#the big forwards who also have a really high skill ceiling…!

[puckpocketed]

Eric Stephens u are the ONLY sports journalist to ever exist !!!!

[2xplusungood]

Im just gonna say it: My opinion is that recent "rebalances" to minecraft absolutely have sucked immensely lately, namely these two big ones:

Netherite changes: So now instead of simply mining the 24+whatever you need for tools ancient debris, you now also have to obtain netherite upgrades found in Bastion chests, which not only adds what feels like a completely unnecessary step to something that already requires a decent amount of commitment, but now gives the same problem to netherite armor that Elytras have: With limited world sizes, items that can only be collected through exploration are much more finite. Have fun no longer being able to have netherite on public servers becuase a group of the more grind-motivated players already have all the netherite upgrades in the world and have decided to gatekeep them from other people. Either that, or they are super generous with it and hand them out to everyone, which completely INVALIDATES the change's point of making netherite harder to get. In essence, it basically adds griefing potential without making it an overall better game.

Villager changes: This one I've seen coming for a long time now, ever since the Mojang devs hopped on Hermitcraft with Doc and said that villager changes were coming.

In my opinion, the biggest issue with villager trading is the random nature of trades and sitting there breaking and places lecterns to hopefully get mending. I think having a more straight forward way of getting the enchantment you want is a step in the right direction but its still probably the worst possible way it could've been implemented.

First off, you need to find a swamp biome (which holy shit I am so goddamned tired of wandering in random directions hoping to find a specific biome, not becuase I think its cool but because theres some specific bullshit I need from it before I leave it forever)

Then at the BARE MINIMUM, you now have to transport villagers TO that biome. I don't feel like I can stress enough how bad of an idea this is. Moving and transporting villagers is extremely annoying and is downright DISCOURAGED by the game (Lures do not work on them and theres no way to make them follow you becuase they are... you know... supposed to be PEOPLE and not just animals)

It was, however, by no means impossible and could still be done if you really needed to have them somewhere but it was never something you HAD to do to get specific items and if they do not add the two missing village types, you will now.

My next point is that Mojang seems to want to kill any gameplay outside of their views of how to play the game. Like I keep seeing these youtubes parroting the fact that "oh you can build these super overpowered villager breeders and converters to get super cheap trades" without actually answering "how is this a bad thing"

One of the biggest draws of minecraft is the extremely low skill floor but extremely high skill ceiling. A casual player can get all the tools they need to make whatever they like on a small to medium scale, but someone who is more willing to push minecraft to its limits are happily given the tool necessary to do so, regardless of how gamebreaking they can be.

Want infinite iron? Break the game by making a golem farm

Infinite copper: Break the game by utilizing the absolutely absurdly obscure mechanic of zombie reinforcements and then convert them to drowns.

Slime: Making a slime farm in a slime chunk or swamp using mushrooms

Need infinite TNT? Dupe it using coral, a mechanic that is 100% a bug but at this point will not be fixed (For the time being, barring any sudden changes in developer opinion) due to its millions of uses.

The point Im making is that farms not only add a means for getting a ridiculous amounts of materials to make ridiculous buildings that would otherwise take way more time, but also add a whole new layer of gameplay for the insane tech-minded crowd

Zombie discounts however? Somehow they are bad. Somehow, the ability to get cheap trades through a VERY involved process (Either you are manually infecting and curing them like a psychopath or building the infrastructure to automatically infect and cure them like a high functioning pyschopath). Its so terrible how you can... get certain enchantments easier... or get glass easier... or mid tier armor and weapons/tools? Like you don't even get these resources passively like most farms and each villager you bring into your trading hall requires some manner of time investment.

So WHY nerf villagers? Are they the most fun to deal with? Is actually doing this farms the pinnacle of gameplay? Not really, but the answer would be to streamline this process (Being able to manually cycle trades without constantly breaking the workblock would be a good start) and not just take it out back and old yeller that shit.

My tinfoil is that some Microsoft exec found out about villager farms and decided it didn't fit with the kid-friendly brand they've made.

[i3asil]

Dungeon 23 - Day 1 - Full Text?

Sooo, I heard about the Dungeon23 ‘challenge’ ‘game’ and its really cool. You sketch up a dungeon and think of stories and rhyme or reason to it. At least that’s what I gathered from it. Once per day. And at the end of the year, you might end up with a full mega Dungeon. Cool idea right? However I’m not really that great with sketching stuff like that, especially since I feel its still simpler for me to write than to draw, especially at the level of detail I’m thinking of. So here’s my take, I won’t do this every day, real life is awful after all, and I won’t make a sketch for the dungeon either. I will use words to describe each room and the thoughts behind the rooms. Even in DnD I greatly prefer the Theatre of mind over a grid map. Though I’ll always have a grid map handy in case the party really needs one. So here goes! Considering this Dungeon is going to end up being huge, I’m imagining a big adventure taking place only within this dungeon. Which means, that there will likely be its own inhabitants and own ecosphere of sorts within it and it will also be scaling in difficulty over time... meaning we will start with simple stuff for the first room! Our party of brave adventurers has reason to enter the dungeon. What for, you ask? Be it a nearby city that wants a monster within slain, or a guild that wishes for them to loot it clean. The reason is ultimately up to you. In this case, some members of this party had heard tales and children’s songs about this dungeon. Of the many riches and the great vastness within. Supposedly, the entry leads to a whole new plane of existence, explaining its size. However barely anybody is daring enough to set foot into it. And those have? Well, they have not been seen leaving. Intrigued by their sense of adventure they stand in front of it’s gates. A large double door of stone slates, cut into a mountain side. It would take a giant to open them, one would think. After thoroughly checking and double checking their gear and rations, they each place their right hand against the doors. Coarse stone, and slimy at touch. Water would run along the surface and moss already decorated it. As if by magic, the doors opened by themselves, revealing an empty darkness behind them. An audible gulp later, the party walks inside, and once past the doors, they shut closed behind them. Here they were, surrounded by pitch black. Some had night vision and could roughly make out the sizable first room, but for those who didn’t have night vision, the party lit torches from their dungeoneering packs. Once set aflame, everyone could see.  The surrounding walls were of the same stone as the mountain and the doors. Brown and at some places very smooth. Some parts looked like they had been dug out by hand, though most was a natural cave. By pure chance, they heard a sizzle come from their torch. Looking up at it, they noticed that water drippled down from the rather high ceiling. Even a full grown Orc would have no issue standing here. Out of curiosity, or perhaps even fear, a party member turns around and tries to leave. Yet there was no more door. A surprise to all, they didn’t even move from where they entered, how could they have lost track of the door? Was it magic after all? Close together, the party moved forward with weapons drawn, ready for anything that may await them in this room. It was incredibly silent so far, aside from the water droplets running down the walls and the ceiling, and their footsteps which altered between a louder noise as they stepped on stone, and a muffled noise as they stepped on moss. Every sound echoing from wall to wall. Stalactites and stalagmites decorated the room, along with mosses of different shades of green. They could tell some small flowers and herbs grew within the moss, yet they had nobody with the Survivalist skills to really ascertain what was safe to eat, and what wasn’t. Even the water made them curious. After all, they knew their rations would only last a certain amount of time. After that, they’d either starve or die from drought, or they’d need to make use of the resources within the dungeon itself.  In hindsight, it was foolish of them not to bring someone with survival skills along. As big and empty as the room appeared, their vision was constantly obscured by multiple large pillars of the mountain that stood in the middle of the room, leaving gaps between. Each pillar roughly 20-30ft in diameter, while the room itself was roughly 200 feet squared. However, it wasn’t square. It was jagged and although sometimes uncannily even, they could tell that it was so far formed like a natural cave. They were careful to leave ‘breadcrumbs’ of pebbles behind them to orient themselves, and once they walked through the entire first room, they were assured that it was indeed safe. Without enemies, their stiffened shoulders could finally slump down. Walking along the walls, they could tell that they now had a painful choice before them however, There were three narrow paths to travel down into. Which path should they take? Would they be safe? Will they find food? These and many more questions buzzed inside their heads. They simply could not chose, at least not unanimously. They argued and decided to sit down near the middle of the room. Some leaned against a pillar, and others began taking small strolls not far from one another to look more closely at the walls and mosses. Inside this place, they couldn’t tell time. It felt like an eternity and yet it wasn’t.  Someone followed the water veins along the walls and ceiling, trying to see from where it came. Which lead to the right most path. Chances were good that they might end up finding some aquifer that way, along with edible plants. And were there is food and water, the others knew, there must be other creatures too. Near two pathways, another had found small golden coins placed in front of them. The rightmost and the middle path each one. Yet the leftmost path had none. Who had left these, they wondered. None of them, they concluded. So was there someone before them? If so, how long ago? The coins while slightly dusted and wet, seemed rather fresh. Though they had no clue what ‘fresh’ meant in there. It could’ve been hours before them, or perhaps even days. Which brought worry, if whoever left these behind was still alive, would they be hostile or friendly? On top of which, should they venture down the paths that had the coins? Or should they take the path without? What reason did those coins hold for those who had left them behind? Was it to mark off dead ends? Or for danger? Or perhaps they’d already fully explored the area already, and nothing of value was left to find? Also, did they already go down the path that had no coin? Which path would our party have the highest odds of meeting the coin placer? They’d mutter amongst themselves and think with reason and rationality, within a dungeon from all they knew, didn’t even have to follow the laws of physics. After all, the doors through which they entered, had disappeared. Which made them wonder, what if another party entered the dungeon? Would the door reappear? Would the new party even enter into this very same room? With a throbbing headache from all the thinking, they went to sleep, rotating in shifts to keep watch, leaving the issues to be resolved after they wake up, with a clearer mind. -Basil

[bestiesenpai]

Youtuber Nanami

We’ve never seen Hanse and Nanami in the same room before...I’m just saying, the chances of them being the same person are higher than 0...gender neutral reader and no content warnings for this :) 11.8k words

(s/n) = nanami’s screen name

Nanami Kento wasn’t what usually came to mind when one thought of Youtubers. He was a salaryman, wearing pristine suits and going to work at ungodly hours. He had a stern face and rarely spoke about himself unless asked, preferring to keep most conversations short and to the point.

But Nanami didn’t think of himself as a Youtuber. He liked to refer to himself as a home cook who just happened to make videos and post them to Youtube. He had amassed a good two million followers and he didn’t show his face or hands, not even speaking as he cooked.

All Nanami dreamed about when he was at work was coming home and filming his next project. As an avid foodie, he was constantly thinking up new recipes to make. At first, filming himself had been a way of documenting his skills and keeping track of recipes without having to write them down, but as time went on people seemed to become enthralled with him.

“It finally came.” Collecting the mail on an early Saturday, Nanami’s smile was hard to contain as he grabbed the box that was waiting for him. He’d put in an order almost a month ago for this item and as he speed walked back to his apartment, his heart thumped with joy at getting to use it.

“It’s beautiful.” Holding up the cat bread mold, Nanami was itching to get to his kitchen and put it to use. Grabbing his camera, he began to prep his filming space. He was lucky to have such a large east facing window that his dining table could sit in front of and get the perfect light for his videos.

Making sure everything was perfectly positioned, Nanami pressed record and started to add ingredients into his mixing bowl. It was perfectly silent in his apartment, the most ideal environment to film in. Nanami didn’t add any background music to his videos, preferring to let the natural acoustics of his actions shine through.

Waiting for the dough to proof, Nanami flicked through some comments on his Youtube videos. He didn’t really care about what people had to say about his content, he only did this for himself, but sometimes it was nice to see what other like-minded individuals had to say. And he’d be lying if he said the comments about how aesthetic his videos were didn’t make his ego swell a bit.

When the bread was done and popped out of the mold in a perfect cat head shape, Nanami had to bite his lip to stifle a pleased sigh as he turned the camera off. He’d made it a point not to reveal his identity, refusing to let even his whole hand be in a shot and he wasn’t about to let it slip now with a hint of his voice.

“Kento you’ve really outdone yourself.” Biting into a slice of toasted bread with strawberry jam, Nanami smiled fondly at his creation. There wasn’t anything that could ruin this moment for him, not even the sudden knock on his front door.

It was a good thing Nanami was so good at setting up and taking down his cameras and lights, he didn’t want to explain to whoever was on the other side what exactly he did in his free time.

“(Y/N), hello.” As soon as Nanami opened the door and saw you, his next door neighbor, a light blush painted his cheeks. You’d moved in about six months ago into the corner unit next to his and Nanami had been smitten ever since.

“Hi Nanami.” You seemed equally as bashful, waving with a few fingers before tucking your hands behind your back. Meeting his eye for a moment, you let out a nervous giggle. “I was wondering if you’d gotten any mail addressed to me? I was supposed to get a letter from my grandma but I think the mailman might have given it to you instead.”

“Let me check.” Nanami had been so preoccupied with his bread mold that he didn’t bother to check the other mail he’d gotten. Taking a step away from the door, he was about to go further into his apartment but stuttered to a stop. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.” Slowly stepping in and shutting the door, you rocked back and forth on your heels. Nanami was glad you couldn’t look him in the eye otherwise you would have seen the blooming blush going across his cheeks.

He’d wanted to invite you in for a cup of tea and a slice of cake when you first moved in but he wasn’t able to gather the courage and by the time he finally felt ready nearly four months had passed.

“I actually do have it, (Y/N).” Coming back into the lounge room with the letter in hand, he quickly spotted you standing by the dining table looking at the bread he made in awe.

“Oops, sorry Nanami, I didn’t mean to be nosy!” Shuffling back, you took one last look at the bread before turning away. “I just saw the cat shape and got curious!” Taking the letter from him, you looked like you wanted to say something more, but held your tongue. “Well, I’ll be go-”

“Would you like to have a piece?” Nanami blurted out, holding out a hand to stop you from walking away.

“Really, you’d let me have some?”

“Sit down, I’ll pour you some tea.” Pulling out a chair for you, Nanami disappeared into his kitchen and gripped the countertops tightly. A sense of accomplishment washed over him that nearly beat out the bread; he was finally getting to have tea with you.

“Nanami, this is amazing!” Taking a bite out of the jam covered bread, your brows rose high on your face. “You really made this?”

“Mhmm. I got the mold this morning.” Taking a sip of his own tea, Nanami had to fight the smile on his face from becoming too big at seeing you enjoy his creation. He never usually shared with other people, either eating it all himself or giving it to the elderly ladies down the hall that didn’t know how to use the internet.

“Do you bake all the time?” Scooting to the edge of your seat, you almost looked like a child with a hopeful gleam in your eyes.

“I do, I quite enjoy it.”

The conversation began to revolve around food that Nanami had made, his favorites and yours, and then to just general cooking. It felt good to talk about this side of his life with someone, especially you, and the both of you quickly lost track of time.

“I should get going, Nanami, I feel like I’ve taken up enough of your time.” An hour later, you were standing up from your seat. The bread had quickly dwindled as the conversation wore on and there were only a few slices left.

“I enjoyed our talk.” Letting a full smile grace his face now, Nanami walked you to the door. Bidding you a final farewell, as soon as the door closed Nanami leaned against it, pressing his forehead into the wood and letting out a deep sigh. “You did it, Kento.”

Patting himself on the back for several days, Nanami looked forward to the next time he could see you. You’d let slip that you really liked cookies, so the only thing on Nanami’s mind was getting the perfect cookie recipe and making a batch for you.

Over the course of the next week, Nanami made a new cookie every single day. He knew what flavors you liked but he also wanted to try and give you something new, impress you with his skills and see that pleased look come over your face once again.

He also filmed himself making the cookies as well, making sure the videos were the most aesthetic they could be. He didn’t know if you watched his videos and even if you did he wouldn’t want to know, but on the off chance you saw them, Nanami wanted you to love it.

Finding the perfect recipe after a lot of back and forth with himself, Nanami was ready to share a plate of cookies with you. Sliding out into the hall with the plate tightly clutched to his chest, he turned to your apartment.

Nanami was happy you lived in the corner unit, it felt like he got you all to himself despite only having one proper conversation with you. There weren’t other neighbors trying to steal your attention away; it was perfect.

Right as Nanami knocked on the door, a sharp scream came from inside your apartment and he nearly dropped the plate in shock.

“(Y/N)?! Are you okay?” Knocking loudly, Nanami’s body spiked with adrenaline. There was silence on the other end, making him consider picking the lock or calling the building manager.

“N-nanami?” Your voice and body trembled as you opened the door. Quickly giving you a once over, Nanami was relieved to see no physical injuries on you.

“What’s wrong? Why’d you scream?” Eager to get the answer from you, Nanami leaned closer. Squirming a bit, you took a step back and opened the door for him to enter.

“Promise not to laugh, okay?” There was a slight pout in your lips as you spoke and Nanami almost cooed at you.

“I promise.”

“A spider came down from the ceiling and scared me.” Panning over to your lounge room, Nanami couldn’t see any spider. The only things he saw were your furniture and a PC setup off to one side.

“Where is it?” Following you to the desk, Nanami quirked a brow at how impressive the equipment looked. There were two monitors, an expensive looking microphone and a ring light that looked like one he owned.

“Right there!” Grabbing his arm, you flung yourself behind him and pointed at your desk. Right in the middle was a large spider, scurrying back and forth. Balancing the plate in one hand, he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly squished the bug.

“I got it for you.” Folding the cloth back up, Nanami let himself exhale. Having you cling to him had almost stopped him from being able to do anything and he needed all the focus he could get if he wanted to help you.

“You didn’t have to use that, I would have grabbed you a paper towel!”

“It’s alright, it probably would have gotten away if we had waited.”

“Wait!” Grabbing onto the handkerchief before Nanami could tuck it back into his pocket, you gave it a gentle tug. “Let me clean it for you at least.” Nodding, Nanami let it go with no resistance.

Trying not to be nosy, he didn’t dwell too long at your computer, opting instead to follow you to your kitchen. He was pretty sure he saw the title to one of his videos on an open tab and it filled his chest with a flutter.

“What’s on the plate, Nanami?” Your question broke him from his short daydream of talking about his videos with you.

“Huh?” Nanami completely forgot about the plate in his hands, having gotten wrapped up in his own thoughts. Feeling the weight of the plate come back into his consciousness, Nanami cleared his throat. “Oh I uh, I made some cookies for you.”

“You did?” Dropping his handkerchief into the sink, you fully turned to him. Leaning close to the plate, you let out a small hum. “What kind are they?”

“I tried a new recipe out, they’re choux au craquelin with salted caramel cream.” Watching you process the name in your head made Nanami grin. You probably had no idea what he had just said, evident as the dumb nod you gave him.

“Do they go well with tea?”

As Nanami sat at your kitchen table waiting for you to return with some tea, he couldn’t help but look over your whole apartment. It was a simple one bedroom like he had and your furniture suited what Nanami assumed was your taste nicely.

“I almost don’t want to eat one, they look too nice!” Back with some tea, you turned one of the cookies over in your hand.

“If you don’t eat them they’ll go bad.” Nanami teased lightly, taking a bite of one for himself. You let out a little peep and nodded quickly, taking a generous bite of the dessert.

“Nanami.” Gripping the edge of the table, your eyes were blown wide. “This is amazing, I love it!” Whenever Nanami got a compliment, usually from Gojo, he brushed it off and thought nothing of it. But to hear you say that you loved what he made and to see the smile on your face as you take another bite - it made Nanami’s brain overflow with dopamine, a fuzzy feeling tingling the tips of his fingers and warming his chest.

“You really do?” He unintentionally whispers, having to close his eyes lest he stare hearts right through you.

“Mhmm!” Taking a sip of your tea, you giggle a little to yourself. “I feel pretty special too, you made this whole plate just for me.”

You’re special to me, that’s why, Nanami thought in his head, biting the tip of his tongue hard to keep from blurting it out. Looking over at your computer setup once more, Nanami decided to comment on that instead of feeding the blush going up the back of his neck.

“You have a pretty nice setup there, (Y/N). Do you make Youtube videos or something?” Leaning back in his chair, Nanami forced his body to relax and his stomach to loosen up. Now it was your turn to be embarrassed, a sudden shy demeanor washing over you.

“I’m just trying it out, I wanted to see what streaming and stuff was like.”

“Really?” Nanami had to choose his next words wisely, not wanting to seem too excited. “What’s the name of your channel, I’ll follow you.”

“You will?” There was a hopeful lilt to your voice, yet your body language was still hesitant. “I don’t know, I might get too embarrassed knowing you’ll be watching me.” It was Nanami’s turn to join you in being shy. He made a noise in the back of his throat, quickly taking a sip of his tea to cover it up.

“D-don’t be. I want to support you, that’s what neighbors do.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Nanami slid it over to you. “Go ahead and pull up your channel, I’ll subscribe right now.”

As Nanami left your apartment, fifteen minutes later and with an empty plate tucked under his arm, he was thoroughly surprised to know you wanted to start a Youtube channel. He wanted to help you, give you some tips and ways to make the algorithm like you, but he wasn’t ready to give away his secret just yet.

Sitting at his desk that night with his laptop in front of him, Nanami pulled up your channel. Seeing your first video, aptly titled ‘introduction’, he clicked.

“Hi everyone watching.” You sounded and looked so timid sitting at your desk, wringing your hands in front of you and smoothing them out on the wood as soon as you realized what you were doing. “My name is (Y/N) and this is my channel.”

“Hi (Y/N).” Nanami answered back, snorting at his own silliness.

“I’m going to be posting videos of my life, like vlogs and stuff, but also fun cooking videos! I really admire so many people on Youtube that can cook, I want to try and recreate their recipes! I especially like this one, it’s my favorite channel.” A few different Youtube channels popped up on screen and right in the middle and the one you gestured to was Nanamis.

He didn’t hear the rest of the video where you talked about potential upload schedules and other facts about yourself. He didn’t even hear you say goodbye or notice that the screen had faded to black. All Nanami could think about was the fact that his channel was your favorite.

Watching the other few videos you’d posted, a couple short ones of you running errands or showing off some clothes, Nanami vowed to watch every single one of your videos. Despite being pretty active on Youtube, Nanami didn’t watch a lot of videos himself, but your channel was at the top of his list.

For the next month Nanami waited for you to post a cooking video and while he waited he put out a few videos with easier steps, things you could follow along with even if you had little to no cooking skills.

A ping on his phone on a Saturday night had him walking briskly to his computer. You finally posted a video of yourself cooking one of his recipes, a dish he had made for Itadori’s birthday: a strawberry crepe cake.

“Hi, welcome to my kitchen!” Nanami was immediately smitten within the first few seconds of the video. The apron you had on was cute and tied around your waist with a bow and there was a large container of strawberries just waiting to be used.

As the video went on, Nanami openly chuckled at the mistakes you made from being so nervous in front of the camera, like dropping the egg shells into the bowl and dumping too much flour in right after.

“I’m so nervous to flip the crepe over!” The camera was over your stove now where a crepe was slowly beginning to burn in the pan the longer you waited.

“Don’t be scared, you can do it.” Nanami whispered to the screen, biting his lip as you attempted to flip it over. Managing to do it right on the first try, you let out a loud yelp of victory.

“Oops, I better be quiet! It’s like 2am right now and my neighbor is sleeping!” Upon your admittance, Nanami suddenly remembers hearing a small shout late at night a few days ago that had woken him up for just a moment. “He actually said he’d watch all my videos, so sorry if I woke you up!” Crossing your fingers in front of the camera, you went back to talking about the cooking.

Nanami felt special that you mentioned him in a video and now he wished he was awake to try your cake. You put way more strawberries than he did on it, and your whipped cream application was a lot messier and spilled down the sides but that only made him want to try it more.

“Okay, I’m all done! Let’s put a picture side by side and see how I did.” Holding up a photo of Nanami’s cake, you whined a little at seeing such stark differences. “Well mine isn’t perfectly aesthetic, but I bet it’ll still taste good!”

Was it rational to be annoyed with himself for not being awake at 2am on a Wednesday night to eat a strawberry crepe cake with you? No it wasn’t, but Nanami still felt it. He would have to tell you to cook at a more reasonable time the next opportunity he got to talk to you so he could try your food.

Deciding to do just that, Nanami grabbed his phone and called you. He managed to give you his number after subscribing to your Youtube channel, stating that if you ever needed help cooking you could ask him.

“Hello?” He could almost hear you on the other side of the wall.

“(Y/N), it’s Nanami Kento. From next door.” How many other Nanami Kento’s could you possibly know? Not a lot, he was hoping. You laughed on the other end and he could definitely hear it through the wall.

“Hi neighbor. What’s up?”

“I watched your Youtube video.”

“Y-you saw it?!” You made a noise in the back of your throat and a soft whine followed. “God I feel so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, I told you I’d watch your videos and support you.”

“I know, I just- you didn’t have to call me and say it.”

“I don’t like texting.” Nanami smirked, he could just imagine your face right now hidden under your palm.

“Well, what did you think of it?”

“I liked it, you did really well on the cake. But I do have one complaint.”

“What is it?” You gasped loudly, nearly dropping the phone as you wondered what he could possibly have to say.

“I just wish you’d made it when I was awake, I would have loved to try it.” There was a long pause between you and Nanami could hear you flop onto your couch.

“Really? You would try it?” Nanami let out a short hum of approval. “Let me get some more strawberries then.” He could hear the smile in your voice and it made his own lips tug upward.

Ending the call shortly after, Nanami thought about your conversation while he was filming his own video. Gojo had given him a box of fresh peaches as a gift from his recent vacation and Nanami had his heart set on making a peach tart.

Replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, Nanami wasn’t as careful as he usually was about concealing his identity. He couldn’t find it in him to put on gloves to cover his hands when all he was really thinking about was having cake with you from a recipe he had made himself.

When he was editing, he almost threw out the whole video. There were many segments where his hands were on full display and one where part of his arm poked into the frame as well. But the rest of the video was too perfect to completely toss out and unable to cut out the scenes of his hands, Nanami posted it anyway with a dying hope that his viewers wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.

Waking up the day after posting the video however, Nanami was sorely mistaken. He was used to videos going viral and trending for several days, some even getting articles written about them. But going viral for his hands wasn’t something Nanami thought was possible.

The video alone had gotten upwards of 5 million views in just a day and was still steadily climbing. Despite going on all his social media accounts and muting every single word that could possibly have anything to do with him, Nanami still ended up seeing videos and pictures of his own hands on Twitter, with an article about him breaking the internet as well.

And one of the videos he saw had your face in it. Captioned ‘tiktokers reacting to hand reveal’, he felt the need to click on it. What did you think of him?

“So I’ve seen the headlines but I saved my reaction so I could get it on camera.” You spoke hurriedly, wrapped up in a hoodie and blanket as you sat down on the couch, the camera on a tripod across from you. “Time to see the video.”

Nanami waited with bated breath as he watched you watch his video. There were some obvious cuts in the video from where you skipped forward, and right as his hands came on screen your jaw dropped.

“I- I uh-” You were clearly very flustered, slapping a hand over your face and turning away from the screen. “Why is my face burning over some hands?” Laughing in disbelief, you watched the rest of the video and let out a girlish squeal before cutting it off.

Nanami wasn’t proud to admit that he watched your reaction more than a few times, finding an odd sense of pride take shape inside him. You didn’t even know it was him behind the camera yet he was able to leave such a profound impression on you.

With a new and growing fanbase eating up every single thing he posted now, Nanami found it hard to live in anonymity like he used to. Gone were the days of quietly replying or liking comments on his Youtube channel, he now had thousands of comments on all platforms asking to see more of his hands or for him to possibly speak in his next video.

He was eager to know what your opinion on him was now, what you thought of his online persona. You were still making videos of his cooking, your channel having gotten a boost in subscribers from your reaction video, and you sometimes mentioned his channel name.

On a quiet Saturday at half past noon, Nanami found himself lounging lazily on his sofa with his hair still undone and coffee stains on his sweats. It was uncharacteristic for him to be so lax so late into the day but it was also uncharacteristic of him to stay up past 1am watching the silly little livestream you were doing in your kitchen with muffled giggles he could hear coming through the wall.

Staring at the ceiling and drifting in and out of sleep as the TV filled the silence in the room, Nanami almost missed the subtle vibration of his phone against the coffee table if there hadn’t been a lull in the TV.

(Y/N): hey neighbor are you busy?

The message from you had him suddenly alert and focused, sitting straight up and planting both feet on the floor.

(Nanami): no, I’m not

(Y/N): then…

(Y/N): do you think you’d wanna come over and help me bake something? I’m doing my first Youtube collab and I’m so nervous

(Nanami): I’ll be over in five.

He didn’t even wait for your response before leaping from the couch and bolting to his bedroom. Nanami got dressed and ready in record time, splashing plenty of cold water on his face to wake him up even further before slicking his hair back and doing one last check in the mirror before rushing to the front door.

“(Y/N).” He was knocking on your door exactly five minutes after texting you.

“Nanami!” You opened the door with a smile, a light colored tied around your waist that was stained from previous use. “Come on in!” Ushering him across the threshold, you made a beeline straight for the kitchen.

“So, you’re doing your first collab, huh?” Following slowly behind you, Nanami thought of all the emails sitting in his inbox from brands and other content creators alike asking him to promote their product or work on a video together. He ignored them all in favor of anonymity, but if you were to message him about it, he would answer in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, I joined a discord server full of other cooking Youtubers and some of them asked me to collab with them!” The smile on your face was beaming and the excitement in your voice made Nanami’s heart swell with pride.

“Well then, let’s get started.” Grabbing the spare apron you handed him, Nanami panned over the scene before him. Your kitchen wasn’t a total mess yet, the counters were still relatively clear with just a few bowls out and measuring spoons just waiting to be used. “What’re we making?”

“Ha, well…” Scratching your cheek bashfully, you shrugged your shoulders and looked around your kitchen. “That’s where you come in, I have no idea what to make.​​” Letting out a soft chuckle under his breath, Nanami nodded to himself and took a step toward the cabinets.

“What are the others making?” He asked while idly sifting through the ingredients you had.

“Take a look.” Showing him your phone, you swiped through the messages between all of you. There were multiple different desserts being made, recipe ideas being thrown around, all with a specific theme.

“So, you chose the colors of the rainbow?” Nanami skimmed over the messages where you decided colors and it seems you’d been chosen to do blue. He’d just seen someone else who got red go with a strawberry cheesecake with swirls of deep red mixed in with lighter pink.

“Do you know any desserts that are blue, cause I don’t.” Throwing your head back with a whine, you stared at the ceiling and let Nanami get back to digging through your cabinets.

“What about a blue surf cake?”

“A what?” You parroted, and your owlish blink made Nanami’s lips curl up in a soft smile.

“It’s a blue cheesecake that looks like ocean waves, I’ve made it a few times before and you don’t need to bake it.” He’d actually filmed a video on it about a year ago and it was one of his most proud creations. Quickly typing it into your phone, you pulled up his video within seconds.

“Oh thank god he made one.” Sighing in relief, you watched Nanami’s video with rapt interest. “This is perfect! But I don’t have this stuff, this butterfly tea powder.”

“I do.” He’d overbought for that video and had been stuck with the stuff for ages. Turning on his heel, he mumbled something unintelligible before leaving your apartment and reappearing in less than two minutes.

“You’re just giving this to me?” Raising your brows high in shock, you took the relatively full package from Nanami’s hands and opened it, a small cloud of blue powder puffing out upon its release.

“Yes, I want you to do well on this collab.” Turning away from you, Nanami began to grab the necessary ingredients from your shelves.

“Nanami.” Your voice was a bit low and when he turned around your bottom lip was jutted out into a pout.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re the best neighbor ever!” Clutching the powder tightly against your chest with one arm, you raise the other one and rest your hand on his shoulder. “Whenever you need help or want some tea and cookies, just ask me and I’ll do it!” You were eternally grateful and Nanami could feel the sincerity in your words and the warmth of your hand melting into his skin.

“I’ll make sure to take you up on that offer, so don’t take it back.”

“Never!” You shook your head, clutching his shoulder tightly. “Now let’s make the best damn blue cake ever!”

Standing off to the side, Nanami watched you film your introduction. He felt almost awkward seeing you talk to the camera and talk animatedly about what you were going to make when his own introductions were quiet and calm, slowly panning across his work space and showing what he would be making with captions dotting the screen.

“I also have a friend helping me make this cake, would you like to wave hello?” You glanced at Nanami, fully expecting him to reject your offer but he surprised you by lifting a hand into frame and giving a very brief wave. A little giggle left your lips and you gave him a thumbs up, turning back to the camera. “He’s really good at baking, so with his help hopefully this cake won’t turn out to be a huge disaster.” Laughing to yourself, you waited a few seconds before turning the camera off.

“Give yourself more credit, (Y/N), you’re good at baking too. I bet you won’t even need me.” Going over the ingredients list one last time, Nanami recounted your videos and couldn’t fight a small smirk on his lips. You’d certainly improved but to call you good was a bit of an exaggeration.

“You’re right!” But you were bolstered by his words nonetheless and your chest puffed up with confidence. “I can do this no problem!”

Maybe it was because he was there, or maybe it was because the words he’d said to you before starting had jinxed it, but Nanami was sure any skills you’d learned had regressed severely.

From the first step to the last, there was a fumble on your part. Adding too many ingredients that didn’t need to be there, adding too little of what the recipe actually called for, snacking on the pieces for the crust of the cake and choking on camera from accidentally inhaling a piece - it was almost as if you were trying to appear inept at even the most basic of kitchen duties.

“It took us so long to get here but we can finally add the filling in!” What took Nanami barely 25 minutes had taken you almost an hour to complete. Your apron and fingers were smudged with blue powder and the kitchen was in noticeably more disarray than when you started, clear proof of the trials and tribulations you went through. Silently cheering you on from behind the camera, Nanami held his breath and watched you pour the mixture into its final pan. “Now time to pop it into the freezer and wait for it to set!”

“Time to start cleaning up.” Nanami mumbled to himself as you turned the camera off. Your cooking style was much different than his, pots and pans carelessly thrown into the sink and dirty utensils left on the counter were not things he was used to seeing.

“Do we have to?” You whined as you set the cake in the freezer.

“Will you clean up after I leave?” He quirked a brow at you, a slow smile coming to his face as you groaned and shook your head.

“Alright fine, we can clean up now.” Nanami was already rolling up his sleeves before you could start to speak and your sulky tone made a chuckle come out of him. Flicking on the sink and filling it with water, he could see you gather dishes out of the corner of his eye. It was quiet in the kitchen now without you narrating your actions for the video and Nanami welcomed the silence, it gave him a chance to think about what to say to you next.

“Really, thank you for helping me.” Coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with him at the sink, you let your arm rest snugly next to his as you started to help wash the dishes.

“You’re welcome.” Shifting just the tiniest bit closer, Nanami scrubbed away in silence. Without the constant action and ever present camera turned off, the scene between the two of you could almost be described as domestic, as if the two of you had just gotten done cooking for yourselves and not a Youtube video and now were in comfortable quiet as you cleaned up the aftermath.

“I should think about what to make for dinner, all that filming made me hungry.” The adrenaline from the collab was still high inside you, making your fingers tremble slightly as you washed off a sudsy dish.

“What are you in the mood for?” Nanami was either stupidly brave or just plain stupid for leaning into this domestic feeling by asking you that question. He could be crossing a line by trying to imply he wanted to eat with you, essentially overstaying his welcome now that he was no longer needed.

“I kind of want pasta, what about you?” Glancing up at him, you were glad he wanted to stay longer and the proof was felt on the tingling warmth prickling your entire body.

“Pasta sounds good. Red or white sauce?”

“Red. I have a great wine to pair it with.”

“You’re into wine?”

“Not really.” You giggled shyly. “I wanted to start a series where I pair different foods with wines but I got too drunk trying to film the first episode.”

“I would love to see that video, (Y/N).” Nanami snorted loudly, a smirk on his lips as he dried his hands.

“We’ll have to have a private screening then.” Playfully bumping your shoulders together, you followed suit and dried your hands.

“Yes, yes we will.”

Twenty minutes later and dinner was prepared and served, both you and Nanami sitting at your dining table with full glasses of beautiful red wine with the bottle sitting not too far off in case you needed more. Eating quietly and making lively conversation, the wine in your glasses never seemed to dip, always being topped up until the bottle was empty and you were shuffling to grab another bottle.

“(Y/N), how much wine do you have?” Nanami chuckled, a drunken blush coating his cheeks as he watched you open your fridge. He could just barely see the bottom of a few bottles from his position at the table.

“Y-you don’t wanna know!” You laughed far too loudly for the situation and slammed the door closed, handing Nanami the bottle as you collapsed in your seat.

“Well, cheers.” Opening the new bottle and topping off your glasses, Nanami held his up and clinked it with yours when you held it up. Letting the liquid drip down his throat, Nanami looked over at you from over the rim of his glass. You were already cute in his eyes, downright adorable even, but to see you giggly and drunk with him made his heart swell even more.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Whining slightly, you held your glass up in front of your face while your own face burned horribly.

“Like what?” He chuckled in return, mimicking your gesture.

“Like- like- you know!” Waving a hand around, you turned away from him slightly and took a generous sip of wine. Silence hung between you briefly, words left unsaid on the tips of both your tongues yet the fear of possible rejection - or even worse, regret - permeated your drunken minds.

“I’m just having a good time, (Y/N), is that a crime?” Leaning back in his seat, Nanami laughed to himself. He was definitely embarrassed from being caught looking at you like a fool in love but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

“You like having dinner with me?” Quirking up a hopeful brow, you rest your elbows on the table and shimmy just a tad bit closer. Your knees brushed under the table and the feeling drew you closer with Nanami pulling his chair in just so he could stretch his legs out and feel your feet begin to tangle together.

“I do, a lot.” It surely beat eating dinner alone for the thousandth time this year. The conversation quickly died down with both of you just silently looking at each other with a half lidded gaze, drunken smiles pushing your cheeks up without you even noticing it.

Soon the food ran cold and the second bottle of wine was emptied and you had to separate to take care of the dishes. Pushing Nanami towards the living room, you made him promise to go sit on the couch while you set the plates in the sink and put away the leftovers.

“Nanami, I have some ice cream if you-” Slightly stumbling out into the living room with a pint of chocolate ice cream, you stopped short upon finding Nanami dozing away on the couch with his body fully stretched out and relaxed.

Going up to the back of the couch, you leaned over it and close to his face, taking in every miniscule detail and pore that you could. Nanami was always so poised around you that it was a rare treat for him to relax like this, especially enough to go to sleep on your couch.

“Nanami…Nanami…” You whispered, gently shaking his shoulder. The action earned you a tired grunt in response and Nanami pushing your hand away and turning further into the couch. Shaking his shoulder again, you giggled when he swatted you away.

Returning the ice cream to the freezer, you grabbed a spare blanket and pillow, nearly dropping them both as you stumbled through your apartment. Throwing the blanket over his body haphazardly, you gingerly grabbed his head and put the pillow underneath it.

“Good night, Kento.” Whispering above his sleeping body, you felt butterflies in your stomach looking at him. You tried to stamp down the crush you had on him, reasoning with yourself that a man this serious and composed would never go for someone like you, but it never worked. You found yourself daydreaming about him constantly when you should have been working, fantasizing about having him join you for a meal or perhaps an outing to the city.

Taking one last look at his sleeping form, you drug yourself away to your bedroom to get some sleep of your own. The knowledge that Nanami was just a few feet away in the living room while you lay in your bed kept you up, nervous fits of giggles erupting from you as your imagination wandered.

Waking up some time later with a pounding headache and early morning light coming through your open curtains, you listened for any sound of Nanami still in your apartment. Taking a brief glance at the time, you expected him to have crawled home by now and be nursing his hangover with a cup of coffee.

Heaving yourself out of bed, you walked as quickly as possible to the bathroom and fumbled in the drawers for some painkillers. Downing a couple with no hesitation, you splashed some cool water on your face before finishing up and leaving the room.

“Oh, you’re still here.” Your voice was terribly quiet as your eyes landed on Nanami who was still fast asleep on the couch, completely disheveled with his shirt hiked up to reveal the relaxed muscles of his abdomen. Even deep in sleep he still had prominent abs with the dusting of a light happy trail below his belly button.

Reaching out in a trance, you ran your fingers lightly through his hair, just barely grazing his scalp with your nails. Repeating the motion several times, you worked out any knots he may have gotten during the night and further mussed the tresses.

“Feels good.” Nanami grumbled with his eyes still tightly closed. His voice was impossibly low and groggy as he twisted and turned on the couch. Your fingers went to scratch at his scalp when Nanami’s twisting earned him a tumble right to the ground and a surprised shout sounded upon contact.

“You okay?” Leaning over the couch, you gripped the cushioned backing tightly.

“F-fine, I’m-” Clearing his throat and trying to grab his bearings, Nanami ripped the blanket off him and sat up in a huff. “I’m fine.” As he spoke, he winced, clutching at his head.

“Hungover?” You asked with a small grin. Holding up a finger as he nodded, you made your way to the bathroom to grab the painkiller. “Come grab some water.” Motioning to the dining table, your grin got wider watching him struggle to stand.

“Do you have any coffee?”

Ten minutes later, Nanami was sunk into a dining chair with his forehead plastered to the table. He couldn’t even feel any regret for overstaying his welcome and getting too drunk to go home, all he could feel was a sick churning in his stomach and a throbbing in his head. The coffee had done a good job of waking him up, prompting him to fix his clothes and hair as best he could given the circumstance.

“Here you go.” Setting a plate down in front of him, you tried not to groan as you sat down yourself. Peeling his face off the table, Nanami never thought he could be this happy to see a plate of food.

Barely grunting out a word of thanks, he grabbed his utensils and started eating. His pained stomach slowly subsided, the warm food doing a good job at chasing away any lingering sickness in the back of his throat. It was only when his plate was empty did he realize he hadn’t spoken a single word to you.

“Thank you for the food.” Taking a gulp of coffee, he looked over at your own plate and realized he was still hungry.

“There’s more in the kitchen.” Flicking your chin in that direction, you slowly sipped your own drink as Nanami left to grab more food.

“I’m sorry.” He said once his second plate was empty and he’d already gotten another cup of coffee.

“For what?”

“I’ve overstayed my welcome. By a lot.” Grimacing as he looked at the time, he could just imagine the way you were feeling. Had you been able to sleep comfortably last night knowing he was here? You probably locked the door to your bedroom just to be safe, telling all your friends that your neighbor was drunk and passed out on your couch.

“Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind. It’s just like a sleepover.” Finishing the food on your plate, you pushed it away and leaned your head against the back of the chair. It was quiet for a moment with Nanami idly watching you breathe, and then you spoke again. “Do you think the cake is ready?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” Letting out a snort, you peeked at Nanami from the corner of your eye and laughed a bit more at his bewildered expression. “The cake we made yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah.” Letting out a rough exhale, Nanami shook his head to clear his thoughts. How could he forget the entire reason he’d come over in the first place? Did the alcohol really have that much of an affect on him?

“It looks set, what do you think?” Gingerly placing the cake tin on the table, you worried your lip as you looked over the cake for any imperfections. It looked perfect in the pan but who knew what would happen when you tried to remove it.

“Well don’t keep me waiting.” Reaching over the table to take the cake out himself, Nanami yelped when you smacked him away.

“No, don’t! What if it all oozes out onto the table?”

“We won’t know until we find out.” He wanted to reach out again but hesitated as he saw the twitch of your hand. “It won’t ooze all out, (Y/N), the cake is perfect.”

“How can you be so sure?” Your fingers curled around the tin; you wanted to believe him but knowing your luck it would end in disaster. But the longer you looked between him and the cake, the more you felt the pressure.

“I know because you made it. You’re a good baker, (Y/N).” Finishing the last sip of his coffee, Nanami pointed a finger at you. “Now either you take the cake out or I will.”

“Fine!” With trembling fingers you pushed the cake up from the bottom, painstakingly watching for any possible defects as it emerged.

“See, I told you it was perfect.” Nanami couldn’t help but feel smug at being right. The cake was picture perfect, not a lump or bump or empty spot in sight. The sigh of relief you let out was loud and completely deflated your chest.

“Thank god.” Setting the cake back in the tin, you stared at it from above, disbelief washing over you. “I can’t believe I really did it.” Laughing breathlessly, you straightened yourself up and glanced at your camera. “Guess I should start filming the reveal.”

“I think I’ll be going now.” Pushing himself up from his chair, Nanami gathered the dishes on the table and set them in the sink, ignoring the urge to stay even longer. He had to shower and change clothes, gather his composure and prepare himself for the work week ahead.

“It was nice having you over.” You mumbled, pushing in the chairs and slowly leading him to the front door. Neither of you really wanted this time together to end but it had to be done eventually. Gripping the doorknob, there was a slight delay before you opened the door.

“(Y/N)...” Drawing out your name, Nanami’s feet were stuck in place. Looking into your eyes, the longer he stared the less he wanted to step out into the hallway and back into reality. Digging his fingers into the doorframe, Nanami let his eyes begin to close softly, his vision turning slightly hazy as he aimed for your lips.

Time was moving too fast and too slow. With the sudden approach of Nanami, it was something you’d dreamed about for a long while, wondering what his lips would feel like against yours. But the open setting of where you two were, the sudden slamming door down the hall and noises filtering in from the outside world withdrew you from the moment you’d wanted for so long.

“O-oh.” You hadn’t even realized you’d put your hand up to stop Nanami from coming closer until he made contact. Both of you looked down at your hand in confusion and you turned red for different reasons.

“I’m sor-”

“I’ll see you later.” Cutting you off, Nanami kept his head down to try and save face, save himself from you seeing how utterly mortified he was at getting rejected. Taking a generous step into the hall, he made a beeline back to his apartment.

Unable to say much beyond a dejected and nearly silent goodbye, you closed your door shortly after Nanami closed his. Both of you leaned against the respective frames, Nanami cursing himself for being so forward and making you uncomfortable, and you beating yourself up for stopping him in the first place.

It only took a day for you to finish the video and upload it, adding your traditional flair and special touches that made Nanami smile every time he saw them. Trying to ignore the way you two had parted, he focused intensely on the video and every time there was a cut or jump in he recounted exactly what had happened in that moment that made you cut the clip out, be it choking on some crust or dropping the entire mixing bowl on the floor.

“I’m just feeling burnt out from all this social media stuff, I might take a break from cooking for a little while.” That was the last thing Nanami wanted to hear towards the end of one of your monthly vlogs. He’d noticed a slight downtrend in your content output shortly after you posted the collab video and while he hadn’t spoken to you since that fateful night, he hadn’t gotten any hints that you were feeling this way.

“I’ll still be active here and there, I have some other things already filmed and ready to be uploaded and some sponsored stuff for my Instagram but I just…” The heavy sigh you let out as you tried to find the words to articulate your feelings made Nanami frown. Watching the rest of the video with a heavy heart, he took a glance at the time.

“Let me make something to cheer them up.” He mumbled to himself. Yes it was nearing his usual bedtime and he was typically very strict about adhering to the schedule, but you needed him; or at least Nanami hoped you needed him in some way to make you feel better.

Burrowing around in his cupboards, he grabbed random ingredients and placed them on the counter. When Nanami wanted to make something, especially a baked good, he always had a plan on what he wanted to make. But now he was going off the cuff, coming up with a recipe on the fly and hoping it worked. He also grabbed his filming equipment and set it up, hoping that even if the recipe didn’t turn out well you would still find enjoyment in his videos.

It took him nearly two hours to make a chocolate souffle and he didn’t regret a single second of it. His whole apartment was warm and smelled of chocolate, steam rising and blurring the lense of the camera as he presented them. Taking a deep breath that turned into a loud yawn, Nanani felt proud of himself for completing the recipe even if it was an ungodly hour.

He was nearly a zombie by the time he put everything away and uploaded the footage to his computer but he couldn’t find it in him to go to bed just yet. He wanted to edit and upload the video as soon as possible so that you could have something to watch to take your mind off the hard time you were having.

The rising sun was Nanami’s indicator that he’d been up all night without even ten minutes of sleep, but he could proudly say he pulled his first all nighter for Youtube and finished the video right as his alarm went off. Posting it immediately, Nanami rushed around to gather his things and head out the door before he missed his usual train.

Dragging his feet throughout the day, he collapsed on the couch the moment he stepped through the door. He tried to keep up with his work while also checking to see if you’d liked the video or maybe commented but there was nothing from you, not even a cheeky little post on Twitter or your Instagram stories.

Running a dejected hand through his hair, Nanami pulled himself up from the couch and to the kitchen. Thankfully he was meticulous about being clean so there was no mess from last night waiting for him, easing his mind at least a little bit. Making a quick dinner, he ate over the kitchen sink as he thought of what to do next.

It only took a few seconds for him to decide to make another video at that very moment. Shoving the rest of his food in his mouth, Nanami turned to his cupboards once again, quickly deciding to make cookies as his hand landed on a box of chocolate. Ignoring the souffle sitting patiently in the fridge, Nanami set to work making another dish for you with no plan in the foreseeable future of actually giving you any of them.

This habit repeated until the end of the work week when Nanami had quite literally passed out on his couch after the repeated all nighters. None of his videos seemed to have the impact he wanted them to. You didn’t like or comment, your social media posts were either retweets or sponsored content and you hadn’t posted a new video in a while. He could hear you in your apartment sometimes, talking to yourself or playing music and singing along, so he knew you hadn’t run away.

Waking up in a haze well after the sunset, Nanami felt at his wits end. He was doing everything he could to get you to cheer up without having to face you directly and it wasn’t working. He had a fridge full of desserts he was going to give you at some point and a horde of videos up on his channel you could watch but he needed to do something more.

(S/N): hey, I hope you feel better soon

As Nanami prepared for a shower, he wasn’t in his right mind to care about the fact that he’d just messaged you on Twitter instead of through text like he originally meant. Talking to you through his online persona wasn’t something he really wanted to do but he couldn’t turn back now.

Taking a long hot shower, Nanami forgot about the message he sent you, too wrapped up in finally getting to unwind. Doing his nighttime routine and burrowing into bed, he checked his phone one last time.

(Y/N): hearing my idol say this has made my day so much better, thank you so much T_T

“Your idol?” Nanami chuckled to himself, a light blush coming over his face as he sunk into his pillows.

(S/N): you’re welcome. If you ever want to chat about how you’re feeling or anything, I’m open to listen.

Pushing through sleep to send that final message, Nanami tossed his phone onto his bedside table and promptly went to sleep with a small smile on his face.

Generously oversleeping, Nanami woke up in an overheated, messy pile of blankets. Thankful for the weekend, he took his time coming to his senses and getting out of bed. His hand automatically drifted to his phone, tired mind eager to see if you had responded.

(Y/N): I would definitely love to chat!

(S/N): you called me your idol, I take it you’ve been watching my videos for a while?

Nanami had to ask, he needed to know just how much you liked his content. He didn’t have to wait long for a response, just as he poured his first cup of coffee his phone went off.

(Y/N): I’ve been watching your videos since you first started posting!! Your content is the number one reason I started my own channel

(S/N): I’m really touched, I’m glad I could be such a big inspiration for you

(Y/N): you really are! I admire you so much, you’re so serious about your craft

(Y/N): especially the fact that you put out a new video every day this week! I want to be as dedicated as you someday

While your statement bolstered his confidence greatly, it also put a heavy weight on Nanami’s shoulders. As you chatted more and more, Nanami felt the urge to go and make something else to keep the trend of uploading daily. There was a possibility that you were going to start posting again, you’d said so yourself, and Nanami wanted to make it a reality.

Ignoring the food in his fridge and on the counters that still needed to go to you or be eaten, Nanami pushed himself to film two videos that day. It was hard to make sure everything was perfect twice over but he managed and by the end of the day he was sitting at his computer eating flan and editing the videos.

Taking advantage of the weekend, Nanami pulled another all-nighter and filmed as many videos as he could. He ran himself completely ragged between filming, cooking and making sure to message you back consistently. Your conversation progressed naturally, flowing from one topic to another as if you were speaking face to face with each other. Nanami felt the urge to tell you it was him, that your idol was actually your neighbor, but the memory of your rejection still stung and he held off. You probably wouldn’t like him anymore if you learned the truth, so for now he was going to hold off.

By the time Monday rolled around and his alarm went off in the morning, Nanami had gotten a solid two hours of sleep and was nursing a growing headache. Somehow he managed to edit all the videos he filmed, putting them in a little queue to be uploaded everyday while he struggled through the work week.

Zoning in and out for the whole day, it was a miracle that he managed to come home in one piece. Nanami didn’t remember stepping into his office building let alone getting on the train home. Lacking the strength to even eat a proper meal, he stripped down to his underwear and slept on top of his blankets while running a high fever.

Waking up throughout the night in a cold sweat, Nanami knew when he woke up to the sound of his alarm that he couldn’t go to work. With a heavy head and runny nose, just looking in the mirror made him cringe.

“I look like shit.” His voice was gravelly and thick and he had to clear his throat several times after speaking. Leaving a quick message for his boss, Nanami splashed cold water on his face and went back to bed.

The next two days melted into each other and there were several instances where Nanami went into a coughing fit and was sure you could hear through the walls. With only enough strength to feed himself soup and cough medicine, Nanami was left to suffer alone. He heard notifications on his phone go off and every once in a while he would respond to something you sent but for the most part he was dead to the world.

A knock at the door roused him from a deep slumber in the middle of the day, sweating under a pile of blankets but too cold to take them off. He tried to ignore it at first, but the sound refused to stop and through his muddled brain Nanami was sure he could hear your voice.

“C-coming!” Grunting loudly, Nanami’s usually quiet footsteps thumped against the floor. Passing a mirror in the hall, he was glad he at least had an acceptable top and bottom on before he opened the door. Leaning heavily against the doorframe, Nanami sniffled loudly as he made eye contact with you and drifted downwards to the stack of mail in your hand.

“I uh, I have your mail.” Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you didn’t know where to look. This was the first time you were seeing each other in two months and Nanami hated that he looked and felt absolutely awful. “Nanami? Are you okay?” The concern on your face was outweighing the awkwardness in the air.

“Not really.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders mindlessly. “I feel like shit.” His brazen statement made you snort. Taking the mail from your outstretched hand, he was about to thank you when you suddenly spoke.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes scanned his face and the bad dark circles under his eyes.

“No.” Answering truthfully, Nanami didn’t protest when you made the move to enter his apartment, not that he would have stopped you in the first place.

“Let me make you something, you need to eat properly if you want to get better!” Slapping his mail on the dining table, you pointed to the couch. “Go sit down and relax.” Turning on your heel as soon as you finished speaking, you dug around in the kitchen for something to cook. Dragging his feet, Nanami grabbed a small blanket from his bedroom before returning to the living room and taking residence on the couch like you asked.

“I haven’t- haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while.” Coughing loudly, Nanami ran a hand through his hair. He could hear you rummaging through the fridge and making little noises in the back of your throat.

“There sure is a lot of moldy desserts in here.” Looking over his shoulder and into the kitchen, Nanami chuckled watching you pull out some of the desserts he’d filmed and throw them away. They were unrecognizable from when he first made them, all of them having gone bad and disintegrating in their containers. It was a shame he didn’t get a chance to eat most of them, but he was so caught up in filming as much as possible that the thought of having all the leftover food to deal with didn’t cross his mind.

“Hey, how about we order takeout?” Running hot water over a dish that used to have chocolate cake in it, your lip was curled up in disgust.

“Takeout sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later, Nanami had taken more medicine at your request and had a plate of steaming food in his hands, his first proper meal in a very long time. Putting on the TV for some light background noise, the two of you ate side by side.

“I’m glad I came to deliver your mail, I was worried about you, Nanami. I could hear you coughing at night.”

“Sorry.”

“Why’re you apologizing for being sick? It’s not your fault! Just promise me you’ll get better soon, okay?” Giving his shoulder a brief squeeze, your fingers lingered on his body for a few seconds before sliding off. There was a comfortable lull in the conversation for a moment, the two of you eating quietly and fiddling on your phone. Nanami tried not to snoop, but he could see you silently watching a Youtube video on your phone.

“Do you want to watch that on the TV?” He asked quietly, sliding the remote towards you. Giving him a sheepish smile, you quickly put the video up for him to watch as well. Nanami wasn’t surprised that it was one of his videos you were watching, he still had many queued up to be posted, but he was surprised that he didn’t remember a single moment of filming said video.

“Look at the flowers he made on the bread!” Pointing to the screen, you lightly stamped your feet on the floor. “I’m so jealous, whenever I try to make focaccia bread like that it always turns out so ugly!” Nanami nodded along silently; once he was finished with the video for the bread he ate it all in one sitting and had a massive stomach ache.

Grabbing your phone, you tapped away in the comment section of the video, leaving an abundant amount of emojis along with your praising words. Going to Twitter, you tweeted about his video as well and as soon as you hit send Nanami got a notification for the post. His eyes darted to see if you had noticed and luckily you hadn’t, but soon there was a flurry of little dings on his phone.

“Woah Nanami, someone sure is messaging you a lot.” You chuckled and Nanami nearly grabbed his phone off the coffee table and threw it across the room; there was no way that you couldn’t see all the messages were from you. You even leaned forward a little bit to take a peek at who it was.

“Y-yeah, they are.” Fumbling to grab his phone before you could put the pieces together, Nanami had forgotten about the plate of food in his lap and it slid to the ground, immediately beginning to soak into the rug and stain it. Letting out a string of curses, Nanami forgot about his phone and rushed to clean up the spilled food.

Hearing his phone clatter to the ground, Nanami was torn between abandoning his cleaning efforts and stopping you from seeing his phone. He tried to stutter something out, a feeble attempt to draw your attention away as you clearly saw your screen name on his phone.

“What’s this?” You asked quietly, too quietly for Nanami’s comfort. He was still stammering out some excuses, but as you picked up the phone and read your name out loud, he knew it was over.

“I can explain.” His adrenaline was pumping and it was making him begin to sweat profusely. He could clearly tell there was a blush on his face much deeper than the one already there from his fever. Picking up the ruined plate of food, he tried to buy himself more time to try and explain what was happening.

Looking you over, all the excuses Nanami had were coming apart. Every word he could say was falling flat, not just because of his illness but because he found it less and less appealing to try and lie. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, Nanami turned to face you.

“I...I’m (S/N).” Taking the phone from you, he showed you the Twitter messages between the two of you. As he went through the evidence, his social media pages and Youtube channel, he could see your face changing and he couldn’t read your expression. Worrying his lip, Nanami was afraid to ask what you thought of him now.

“This is insane.” You finally spoke after a few minutes, looking down at your own phone. “Who would have guessed my neighbor would turn out to be my biggest idol, too?” Slapping a hand over your face as you came to terms with the realization, you laughed a little. “Oh god, that means you saw my reaction video to your hands.”

“Yeah, I did.” Laughing along, Nanami let out a sigh of relief. You seemed to be okay with what he just told you and there was something else weighing on his mind. “You know, since I’m already confessing to secrets, there’s something else I need to tell you, (Y/N).”

“What is it?” Tilting your head to the side, your brows furrowed slightly in concern. Forcing himself to make eye contact despite the nerves he felt, Nanami let out one short breath before speaking.

“I like you, a lot.” He was surely running the highest fever he’d ever experienced now, there was no doubt about it. He was absolutely boiling, sweating buckets waiting for your reaction to this news.

“Really?” You whispered, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Really.” Based on your reaction, Nanami was steeling himself for a rejection. He should have known you wouldn’t feel the same way, he was a fool for getting his hopes up and reading into signals that weren’t there-

“I like you too.” Yet here you were, slowly weaving your fingers together and squeezing his hand. You refused to make eye contact anymore, too embarrassed from the onslaught of emotions going through you. Squeezing your hand back, Nanami ran his thumb over your skin.

“Well then, when I’m better I’d like to take you on a date.”

“As Nanami Kento or as (S/N)?” You teased, giggling to yourself as Nanami made a noise in the back of his throat.

“You already know the answer.” Finally able to relax in his seat again, Nanami let a big smile overtake his face when you cuddled into his side. “You shouldn’t be so close, you might get sick too.”

“I’ll take the risk.” Looping your arms together, you suddenly sat up. “Hey, Nanami.”

“Hm?” Turning to face you, Nanami’s eyes went wide as you kissed him. Your lips were soft, a pleasant feeling against his that he wanted to experience again and again. Kissing you back, it was a short interaction as he quickly parted to cough into the crook of his elbow.

“(Y/N), you shouldn’t kiss me, you’re going to get sick.” As much as he wanted to kiss you again, he didn’t want to be the reason you wound up in the same position as him.

“I’ll gladly take that risk.” Giving him a peck on the lips and one on the cheek, you resumed your position cuddled into him. “So all that rotting food in your fridge was from your videos?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Next time you want to upload a video everyday, call me, okay? I would gladly like to eat your cooking again.”

“Well you don’t have to wait for that, I’ll cook for you anytime you want.”

“Will you cook with me on my channel?” You looked at him hopefully.

“I’ll think about it.” He would have to make sure you didn’t accidentally expose his identity or your new budding relationship.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Giving him a big hug, you fixed the blanket over the two of you. Nanami wanted to protest and reaffirm that he would think about it, but with the way you were pressed into his side, he couldn’t find it in him.

“Alright, it’s a yes.”

[captains-simp]

Hi can you write a carol fic where carol and fem!reader are exes but reader is also a villain so she constantly pisses off carol just to get her attention 🥳 happy ending too plz

Girlfriends to enemies to yearning enemies to lovers??? Where has this idea been all my life?

1.5k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"She's at it again." Natasha sighed as she watched the TV screen carefully. Carol groaned loudly and hid her face in her hands, not wanting to look up at the screen to see the havoc you had caused.

"Fuck sake, y/n." Tony mumbled but felt a regrettable sense of pride deep down at seeing your latest handy work. Played to perfection. As always.

Stark had been your mentor once. Everything you knew you learnt from him and while he never would have taught you if he knew what you would do with his teachings, he couldn't deny that your skills were unmatched.

You never hurt anyone. Well. You never killed anyone. There was always someone who might have gotten a little battered in an explosion, but it was never your goal to murder. You just wanted a certain blonde's attention.

"Maybe you could-" Steve started but Carol cut him off as she grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch and called out over her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill." She mumbled begrudgingly and left the common room area with a faint glow starting to appear around her.

¤

You swung your legs excitedly as you watched the scene still unfolding beneath you.

The building was still ablazed. Appartments. Shitty shitty appartments. Every one of them had mold growing in the corners, damp in the ceilings, barely functioning heating and questionable water.

The people who lived there couldn't afford to upgrade or even repair their homes and the landlord wouldn't do anything. So you decided to burn it down.

Carefully planned, of course. Most of the preparation had been around securing future homes for those who lived in that shithole. It was a complicated process, especially giving the anonymity of it. But it would be successful. And the landlord? He would be stuck with a bill he should have been paying for a long time, you made sure he couldn't get the ex tenants to pay either.

It was a good day.

You weren't a vigilante as such. Not any more. You had given it a go but you didn't have the tracking or assassination skills of Natasha so you never got any big targets. It wasn't enough. Not when all you wanted was to prove you had the strength to look after yourself and then some. That was what it was all about.

You had worked tirelessly to prove it ever since Carol broke up with you. She had always been fiercely protective. But when insecurities and paranoia started building too high she couldn't shake the distressing thoughts that something could happen to you one day. Something that was caused because you were so close to her. Something she couldn't prevent.

She still loved you. That much you knew. That was what kept you going. You knew Carol wasn't overjoyed at the things you did, there were times you weren't either. But you had to get her back. She was the love of your life and you'd be damned if you gave up what you had the way she had.

It didn't take long for her to arrive. There wasn't anyone else around because while you didn't want to broadcast your location to everyone, it needed to be enough for the Avengers to find you.

"Hey baby!" You grinned up at Carol as she landed infront of you, stoic expression wavering at the enduring name. "How've you been?" You continued in a sing song voice.

"Stop that." She said, not as firmly as she hoped she would sound.

"Rough week?" You asked as you sat down on the ledge and patted the spot next to you. Carol looked around at her surroundings and you rolled your eyes.

"Fine, we'll go somewhere more private." You raised your voice at the last word, hoping whatever camera they had found you on had audio and picked up on what you said. Carol grimaced at the volume but followed you anyway.

"So how is work?" You continued and you strolled down the path next to the blonde.

"I'm not here for a catchup, y/n. But for your information you're making it a pain in my ass." She huffed and you smiled, remembering all the times she ranted about work to you. Now she probably ranted about you to work. Or did she never want to talk about you? Your smile dropped with your stomach at the thought but you quickly recovered.

"So what are you here to do, Captain?" You teased as you got to the bottom of the path and walked a few feet into an old tunnel and stopped to face Carol.

"You need to stop this, y/n." She said firmly. You considered her for a moment.

"Do you think I can look after myself?" You asked seriously.

"Y/n-" Carol sighed.

"Do you?" You continued, wanting to know more than anything. She looked up and considered you too.

It had been a year since she broke up with you, a year that you had changed a lot in. Not just mentally. Your once soft hands were now calloused and slightly red. Your soft smile now held something more to it, something that you had to keep back and locked away. There were scratches and cuts scattered across your body. But really what changed most was that you were alone. There was no one to watch your back anymore.

Despite your efforts to show Carol how strong you were, you were more vulnerable then than you ever had been in your life. Maybe that was why she finally had enough.

"I do. I think you always could." You nodded because yes, that's exactly what you wanted her to understand.

The blonde looked down at her own hands, her eyes flickering to yours every so often. You knew what she wanted. You reached out slowly and gently entwined your rough hands that seemed to still feel so perfect against her own.

"You've really been a pain in my ass, you know that?" She asked and you couldn't help but laugh because that's an understatement.

"So have you!" You exclaimed through a laugh. "You think blowing up buildings is easy?" Carol laughs this time, ready with a come back as always.

"Well for me it's-" You punched her arm before she could finish making her laugh more. God you missed that laugh.

"Cocky as always." You mused and stroked your thumb over the back of her hand. She hummed in agreement, clearly more focused on your movements.

"I'm meant to take you in." She admitted and you weren't quite sure what to do. Yes, you want Carol back. But your goal was always to make her see how capable you were. You had been blinded by the goal and done things she never would have approved on. Carol knew you were strong, but now you might have become someone she can't love. You never thought that far ahead.

"Just...visit me?" You asked hopelessly. She looked up at you and you were taken aback by seeing tears welling in her eyes. You untwined your hands in an instant and reached up to cup her face but felt tears of your own upon seeing her conflicted face.

It was only then that you stopped to realise everything she must had been through in that year apart. The things you put her through.

"I'm sorry." You admitted as tears streamed down your face. "I never meant to- I don't know I thought, well I wasn't thinking." You rambled in shame and Carol brought her hands up to your face too and brought you forward to rest your foreheads together.

"I missed you." She spoke out quietly. "I never stopped missing you, or loving you." She pulled away slightly to look you in the eye and you saw the truth shining back at you.

Then, she brought you closer again, closer so her lips were right next to your own. She stopped to hesitant, wondering if following her heart was the right choice. But when you closed the gap to kiss her she knew it was right. That you could figure things out like you always did.

You kissed her with everything that had built up inside of you for that year apart. The plans, the yearning, the love. All of it. You had waited such a long time to be with her again, unsure if it could even happen, and yet her lips felt as perfect against yours as ever. Like a distance had never grown between you.

Carol pushed you against the tunnel wall as she kissed you back with everything she had. You were everything to her. You always had been and it had never wavered.

When your lips became bruised and breathing became an issue you both pulled away and stood in each other's embrace for you didn't even know how long.

"What now?" You couldn't help but ask.

"We'll figure something out." Carol said as she laced your fingers together again.

"We?" You asked, wanting to pinch yourself to see if it was all real.

"Yes, you and me. Together." You sighed and pulled her closer towards you where you could burry your face in her neck.

"Thank you for giving me a chance." You whispered.

"Thank you for never giving up." Carol whispered back.

[mrs-march-ahs]

Hi! I have a request~ The Evans reactions to losing in any sort of game. Can be board games or video games 😅

The Evans Losing At Games

Headcannons for all, imagines for some!

Cute idea, thank you! I didn’t write much for Jimmy, I’m sorry Jimmy I love you<3

Enjoy:)

Tate

-Clearly a teenage boy who lets emotions build up a lot -Definitely cheats if he’s had enough -If he keeps losing in the same part of the video game and rage quits, it takes him forever to get back into the game - “Ohhhh… I forgot that’s where I let off… fuck it” (quits) -Much better and calmer at playing cards, and generally prefers games were the two of you can talk and he doesn’t have to focus too much

--

You laid on your bed, scrolling aimlessly through social media, and occasionally glancing at Tate playing a video game he hasn’t played in a while. When you started talking about games, and you told him you had it, he nostalgically reminisced how much he used to play it when he was alive, so you set it up for him. Every few minutes, when a red screen would pop up, Tate would sigh, and with every passing death, his sighs got louder and angrier.

After only maybe half an hour of playing, Tate clearly couldn’t take it anymore, and threw the control towards the floor, before stomping over to shut the console and TV off. The sound made you flinch, and you had never seen Tate angry before. Nor his body language nor face showed his emotions, just his actions, and when he flopped by your side, he looked fine. If somebody had come in right now, they would just see two teenagers laying next to each other.

“Uhhh… you okay?”, you ask, before rolling over to face him. You poke at his chubby cheek as he stares up at the ceiling and tease him. “Sore loser”.

“Shut up, it’s your fault. You reminded me why I wasn’t allowed to play this game for very long”.

“Wanna play something else? Together? We could play Dragon Ball Z?”, you ask quietly, before going back to your childish sing-song teasing. “Be nice, and I’ll even let you win a few times!”

Tate looks over at you and huffs, before sitting up and getting the controllers, “Good thing you’re used to begging me for mercy”

Kit

-Least sore loser out of them all -Always up for a rematch -He’s pleasant even when he does win - “Want a rematch sugar? So you can have another shot at beating me?” - “Ah you were close, you’re getting good” - “You’re a good rival” - “If I lose, you can drag me to that Rom Com you wanted to see” - “If I win, we make more babies” -Pretends to be competitive when he’s playing with the kids - “I would say Team Girls vs Team Boys… but that’s not fair, the two of you don’t even stand a chance, right Tommy?” -If one of the kids beat him, he’d act super dramatically to give them as much satisfaction of winning -Laser tag is 34 years before Kit’s time, but if he played something like that, he’d try to let the kids win

--

You ran around the garden and chased a giggling Julia. Because of current financial issues, the power was out, but not wanting to worry the children to much, and not wanting them to ask too many questions, you and Kit decided to make the most of the sun and tire them out before it got dark. Kit, being the big kid he is, suggested playing a tag-like game Thomas invented, where you each get three pebbles each, and try to get each other out by throwing them. Gently. Unless you were throwing them at Kit.

Julia started slowing down when she reached the corner of the house, hoping to hide from you, but you were right behind her, making her turn around and burst out in giggles. When the 5-year-old laughed, the only thing you could see was the missing tooth she donated to the tooth fairy last night. Once you circled all around the house, you come back in view of the garden, and see Julia hiding behind Kit.

“That’s cheating!”, he exclaims, trying to run away from her and toss a pebble in her direction, only for her to do it faster. The second Julia’s tiny rock hits Kit’s tummy and bounced, he put his hands over his stomach and held it like a gun wound. He dropped to the floor dramatically, leaving the two little kids to die of laughter, and you walk over to him, Kit peeping open one eye slightly to see if you were watching him, and then stuck his tongue out to play dead. You picked up a stick from the floor and poked at his chest, making Kit chuckle but quickly hide it.

“Is it dead?”, you ask.

Thomas leans in closer to look at his dad on the floor, before Kit opens his eyes and pulls Tommy to the floor with him, rolling over to be on top of him.

“I win!”, Kit announces, before kissing his son on the cheek.

Franken Kyle

-He doesn’t particularly play complicated games, but he isn’t too patient and gets frustrated with himself pretty easily -If on one of his educational games, he messes something up too many times in a row, he’ll shut off the game and throw the tablet on the bed -He’ll avoid even looking at it -If he loses a tickle fight he’ll sit and whine, straddle you and then tickle you until you beg him to stop -Whines even if he loses at rock paper scissors -He likes colouring and drawing, and because it’s good for his motor skills, the two of you made a really simple game together -You drew out a long snake shape on a big piece of paper and drew lines in between for the spaces -Kyle carefully coloured them in with pencil and with a marker you wrote occasional things like ‘Go back two spaces’ or ‘Go forward three spaces’ -Sweet little Ky would roll the dice, and take his time, pushing his little figurine, which was something like a pencil sharpener or a bottle cap, and counted out the spaces -Got super excited if he won, but wouldn’t mind losing -He would insist the two of you keep playing, and you’re only allowed to stop and go to bed if you end on him winning -Sometimes he would try to let you win so that you could keep playing -Whine and pout if you had to stop playing, and how are you meant to say no to him? -You would have to promise you’ll play tomorrow -You’d be able to slowly make more and more complicated games, until eventually he’d be able to play things like checkers or Ludo

Jimmy

-Lowkey a sore loser -If there were loads of different people playing, he would be a lot more friendly -If he lost, he would still be super annoyed, but just wouldn’t show it -But if it was the two of you, he’d be super competitive -The type of person to flip the board game if he was losing -But he’d apologise straight away and pout if you didn’t want to play with him again - “C’mon let’s play again, I’ll be nice this time” - “Loser gets spanked” -Loves playing games like beer pong

James

-Unpleasant loser but also not a pleasant winner -Bitter compliments if you win at cards - “Well done darling, who would have thought with your high school education you were such a poker master” -Only willing to play the same 5 card games, because if you teach him a new board game he is not familiar with and he loses, he’ll claim it’s only because he’s new to the game -Absolutely infuriated if he loses at Monopoly, since he built a hotel after all -Don’t even bother trying to teach him how to play a video game -And of course - “Only amateurs keep score”

--

“What are you doing, dear?”, James said, fascinated at your little character wandering around a shop, on the screen in front of both of you.

“I’m trying to buy this plant, but I don’t have enough money, I want to see if I can sell anything I have”, you explain, pointing at your backpack filled with items that you can exchange for spare coins.

“Nonsense, darling, why don’t you simply stab the storekeeper and steal what you desire?”

“Because this is Animal Crossing, James, there isn’t a stab button”

Kai

-Kai likes playing video games or board games with literally anybody apart from you -He likes playing with Ozzy because he’s a kid so most of the time Kai can beat him easily -Definitely not the type of person to let the kid win, even if Ozzy is sobbing and Ally asks him to let Ozzy win once in a while - “Winning fairly will feel so much better for him” - “He won’t appreciate success if he doesn’t first taste failure” -Sometimes instead of story time with his troops he’ll play some board games -At first, everybody will keep letting Kai win out of fear -But eventually someone will win, and everybody else will be fearful for them, scared Kai will be angry - “Finally somebody capable, somebody strong, not scared to show their true capabilities” -But if you ask him to play a game with you, he probably won’t -If you eventually beg enough that he will agree to play a game with you, he’ll tell you he’s only playing one -If you win, he’ll be like, “Okay, are you happy now?” - “Finally it’s over” - “I let you win, are you happy?” -But if he wins, he’ll try to get you to play a few more games - “Are you giving up already?” - “Don’t be a sore loser, rise up to the challenge” - “I assumed you wanted to win, not just to play”

- (Kai loses) “See… you have to give a humiliated man a chance to redeem himself in his own ey-”

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 3

McCoy

“I said go away.”

McCoy lifted his head off the bed to glare at his sister who had entered his room.

“No,” Leah said and dropped onto the bed next to him.

“This isn’t fair,” he grumbled into the mattress.

“Tell me about it,” Leah muttered. “But they’re right you know.”

“What?” He pushed himself up in surprise to look at his sister.

“We both know I’d be a better ruler than you.” It wasn’t a brag. It was simply a truthful statement and they both knew it. “But since my skills at leading don’t count for anything, we have you. And you need people skills.”

McCoy was staring at his sister, feeling frustration rise within himself.

“Not everyone is the idiot you think they are Len. And… and I won’t always be here to help you smooth things over. You know they’re already looking around to find me a ‘suitable match.’”

That was one thing he didn’t envy Leah. He wouldn’t have to worry about his parents trying to marry him off or make him a match for a few more years. Though, he didn’t look forward to when the time came.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered angrily. “No control over our own lives just because of who we are. What if we don’t like the people they match us with?”

Leah sighed and tousled his hair.

“I don’t know. We do our duty. Maybe we work at it.”

McCoy rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m… I’m scared,” he quietly admitted.

“I know,” Leah said softly. “You hide it with grumpiness. I’m going to miss you little brother.”

McCoy sat slouched in a seat next to his father. Spock sat straight backed in front of them with his own father. This was it. He was going to be stuck at this boarding school for the rest of the year. And probably the next couple years.

Why couldn’t they all just leave him to be himself?

Leah was right, he knew. He did need to stop automatically thinking the worst of people. He had to unlearn it and be more like the rest of his family. His parents expected much of him someday and he didn’t want to disappoint them.

He looked up at the building as they stepped from the car. It was old and formidable, yet familiar like his own home. McCoy stood up straighter next to his father as the headmaster came forward to greet them. He was nearly as tall as his father now, and Dr. Boyce surmised that in another year or two he would surpass him.

“Your majesty,” the headmaster greeted his father with a bow.

“Christopher, it’s wonderful to see you,” his father replied, pulling the headmaster in for a hug. “You remember Leonard,” he said as he released the headmaster.

“Your highness,” the headmaster bowed, “you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t recall,” McCoy said politely.

“And this is my dear friend Sarek and his son Spock.”

McCoy tuned out the other greetings and looked at the school in front of them again. While it was true his father and Sarek were good friends, Sarek was also head of the security in their household. And Spock was learning well from his father. He wasn’t just a friend to accompany McCoy, he would be McCoy’s personal bodyguard as well.

“I thought we could go over the grounds, before heading inside. Give his highness a tour.”

“A wonderful idea, Christopher,” said his father.

Part 4

Scotty

The morning passed by quite quickly. Everyone was preparing for the arrival of the prince. They decorated the big entrance hall, cooked and baked various dishes, practiced a musical welcome for the new student.

While Robbie was helping with adjusting the lights and cleaning the hall, Scotty was part of the school band.

The school’s headmaster Christopher Pike had suggested for the young Scotsman to join the band. After all he was quite talented at playing the bagpipes. He hadn’t meant to offend the man, so he had agreed. And… to be honest… it was fun. Scotty loved playing.

And there were nice people in the band. Hikaru Sulu - son of an important Japanese business man - who played the violin. He was also a really good swordsman. Pavel Chekov who was part of a Russian oligarchy family. He was an awesome pianist. And, of course, the fairest lass of the whole school. Nyota Uhura. Her mother was a famous opera singer well known in all the universe. And her voice was just as angel-like.

There were more boys and girls but Scotty didn’t know any of them too well. Mainly because they didn’t want to get to know Scott either.

“Hey Scotty, you ready for the big solo?” Hikaru slapped him on the shoulder and Scotty just shrugged.

“Aye, I suppose so.”

“It really is an honor that the headmaster asked you,” Pavel’s familiar accent echoed through the large auditorium.

“An honor? Ha! He just wants to show the king what this school is doing for the community. He needs to make a big deal about there being low status students here.”

The group turned around to face Kati. She was one of the more popular girls, a close friend to Khan… and a highly intelligent augment. Smart… but arrogant.

“Oh shut up, Kati! Scotty is a great musician.”

Uhura stepped closer and moved in front of the Scotsman.

“Yeah well… if you call that music, I am not sure if you really are your mother’s daughter.”

Nyota rolled her eyes and just pulled Scotty along.

“Ignore her,” she advised him but Scotty just chuckled.

“Oh trust me, I do.”

He had learned to overhear what people were talking about him.

“Thanks for defending me though, Ny.”

Uhura gave him a gentle smile before she placed a kiss on his cheek.

“You’re welcome. Come on… we need to practice one last time.”

Half an hour later they were ready. Everyone had gathered in the entrance hall and was watching the door.

Scotty straightened his back. He had to make a good first impression. Or else he’d be in trouble with Archer again.

The murmurs stopped when the door finally opened and revealed five people.

Headmaster Pike. Two Vulcans Scott couldn’t name. King David McCoy… and…

His heart seemed to stop for a moment. Jim hadn’t lied when he had said that the prince was a hot mess.

Neat brown hair, tall figure, a great body.

The only thing bothering Scotty was that grumpy face. The prince didn’t look happy at all.

“Your highness, we welcome you to our school!” Pike opened the ceremony and Uhura and Pavel started with a duet, joined by a choir later on.

Well… that didn’t light up the prince’s face at all.

Scotty was getting nervous. God, if he didn’t like their performance, than his own would be horrible.

His mouth was dry when Pike nodded at him after Nyota and the others were finished.

Scotty cleared his throat… and then he just started to play.

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: Call This The ‘Can This Man Cook’ Section

(….. I don’t think these men can cook 😔)

First post pog :D I wrote a majority of these super late at night, so please forgive and let me know of any mistakes you find <3 Also, it’s a little long lol

Characters: Dream, George, SapNap, Badboyhalo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Quackity, Fundy, Schlatt.

Warnings: None, except for a kinda risqué comment in Philza’s. Oh and I guess there’s mentions of eating meat in case someone wants the warning :3

Song Recommendation: I Love You So- The Walters

Hella fluffy! Hope you enjoy <3

From best to worst:

#1: BadBoyHalo-

Bad is the best at cooking on the server. He is the creme of the crop, absolute top one percent, king shit at cooking.

He can cook, bake, and temper chocolate perfectly, what more could you want?

His favorite to-go recipes are cheesy garlic bread and a special spicy chicken and rice recipe which he typically makes when the boys are over at his house for the night. When he’s with you he goes for something a little smoother, some mulled sweet berry cider with a smoked cod fillet, eaten under the light of candles while you quietly chat about life and your fellow friends. It’s always one of Bad’s most anticipated hangouts, and he’s very careful about planning when it comes to those days.

While he appreciates being complimented on his food or his skills, deep down he wants to have someone to cook and share his knowledge with so the cooking process becomes much richer. He’s cooked for so long and learned so much, but it means nothing if he can’t share it with another person. The moment you come to him and ask him for help on any kind of recipe, he’ll drop almost everything to help you.

Side note; he absolutely carried lunch and dinner for his fellow DTeam members. While Sapnap would mostly take over breakfast, Bad would be hounded by begging puppy looks from these adult men who couldn’t cook and kind of just sigh and get the ‘kiss the cook’ apron ready. It’s not like he hates it or anything, but the endearing factor kinda slips off after a few years of adult men groveling.

(Bad’s hands rest over yours, dwarfing them entirely as he helps you cut the pasta sheet straightly. “There you go!” He encourages, squeezing your hand gently and stepping away, moving back to dice the vegetables on the cutting board next to you. A comfortable silence falls, and with it comes something in Bad’s heart softening. The worries and exhaustion in his mind ease, and he slips into a contented routine of finely chopping and slicing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so calm. There’s nothing that can ruin this- 

The front door slams open. Footsteps walk in and approach the kitchen and you both hear it, 

“Baaaaaaaaad.” Bad cringes, taking a step back.

“Baaaaaaaaaaad, we’re hungry.” Sapnap. 

“Yeah Bad, feeeeeeeed uuuuuuus.” George. 

And then, from around the door frame, a white mask peeks in. Nobody says a word, but you can feel Bad deflate next to you like let go balloon. 

“It’s alright, big guy.” You laugh, grabbing his forearm and leaning up against him. His sad puppy eyes make you smile a little, and you try to reassure him. “We can hang out alone another time. Let’s keep working on the pasta.” He sighs, but still returns your smile. “Yeah, another time.”)

#2: Philza 

Sigh…. he can cook. Not quite as good as Bad can, but better than Quackity. A solid second place. It stems mainly from being so knowledgeable that he just knows and has tried so many different foods, but since he doesn't actually do much cooking, I'm making him a flaky second place.

Doesn’t mind cooking, but doesn’t love doing it either. He’s always focused on so many different things that he’ll forgo eating to keep working on what he’s doing. He mostly cooks for Techno and Ranboo or the few guests (you) they seem to receive. Makes great stew, and even better roasted chicken, is absolutely immaculate when it comes to cooking bird.

He didn’t teach Wilbur or Techno shit! I wish I could say it’s because he wanted to but just couldn’t, but he was literally like “hmm. Im a little busy now, maybe next year” every year!! But, this being said, if you ask him to make something with you or teach you how to cook a particular dish, he will agree to help you. Old age has really mellowed him out, and after certain events, he realizes he needs to stay a bit closer to those he cares about from now on.

He likes sweets well enough, and will always thank you for any gifts you make for him. Along with growing older, he’s had time to lose his pickiness he had in his youth. If he does end up cooking with you, he’ll prefer doing the harder recipes over easy ones. He will lose it laughing if it turns out bad, so don’t worry about any disappointment (his children make up enough of that ^^).

(“Now,” Phil starts, washing his hands quickly as you wait for him next to the cutting board. “Pufferfish needs to be prepared perfectly, or we will die when we eat it. But I don’t need to explain to you how a pufferfish works, now do I?” 

When you shake your head no, he comes up behind you, tarnished wings bound and hair pulled up in a pony tail. 

“The meat of a pufferfish is very delectable, and much better with a glass of wine.” He grins cheekily, “ If this works out well, which I’m sure it will, dinner will be delicious.” 

It falls quiet for a second, and as your hesitantly looking over the fish that may be your last, you gasp when you feel him press up against you back and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be other delicious things to eat as well,” He murmurs into you ear, before leaning back and busting out laughing. Your face feels stupidly hot. Dilfza quest activated.)

#3: Quackity-

Quackity:

Quackity can cook. I know!! I’d say he’s like the third best cooker on the list. And he’s not half bad at baking either.

He likes making up stupid bad recipes and trying them out with you, even if at the end of it the one of you up chucks your damned creations the hour after. Despite his reigning need for chaos though, he knows how to make a decent amount of recipes and strives for praise when he’s actually putting forward effort. He’ll arrange little dinner dates (“A handsome man and his very pretty friend, good food made by yours truly, and La Chona, what do you say, baby?”) and will sit there with a 🥺 look on his face until you tell him if you liked it or not.

He tries to act like he’s unaffected by your words, but even a small, “That was really good.” will make him turn red and giggle like a schoolgirl. He tries to play it off, but it’s easy to tell he loves the complements. Will also never tell you anything you make is bad. You are a deity descended upon  minecraft Earth and he is but your prettiest disciple who will uphold your honor and treat you like you should be treated!!!! But he’ll then promptly choose to help you with and guide you into cooking/baking better ^^; He loves you!

As for baking, he really likes making cakes because of how simple they can be. It helps calm him down when he can just slip into bake mode and follow a recipe and make something nice at the end of it. Speaking of, he also has a sweet tooth, but not quite as bad as Techno does. Any sweets or food you make for him is always eaten, and always held in high regard. Will try to entice you into feeding him 👀👀 so watch out.

(He’s doing it again. You try to avoid looking directly at the dopey lovesick smile Quackity has on his face at the moment, but as you lift the fork up, you get a better idea. 

You look at him (to which he seems to melt a little under your gaze), look at the fork, and then back to him, raising the piece of cake up to his lips. His expression turns flabbergasted and his blush deepens. 

He doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, until you nudge the cake close and flash him a smile. Then it’s like a switch has been flicked; he giggles, blushing, and eats the cake right off the fork. He’s gone back to smiling that silly smile again, this time even brighter, but it’s okay. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest when he begs you for another piece.)

#4: Schlatt-

Another cooker~! He specializes with formal dinners more than anything else, and adores a good steak.

During his presidency, he didn’t cook very often. Quackity and you had to keep him fed through most of it, and the memory of watching you cook in his kitchen while he looked over work papers at his dining table leaves a mark on him, sealing a new crave for domesticity that he hadn’t ever wanted before.

Sometimes he would cook though. You, Quackity, and Tubbo would all gather around and eat together every once in a blue moon, when Schlatt was sober and calm. It feels tense at the table but also not in a way? Schlatt always seems to be chillest during dinner, a mix of the alcohol wearing off and the emphatic family feel that comes with Tubbo, Quackity, and you surrounding him.

He loves cake! It’s one of the few desserts he’ll eat, but you have to watch him closely or he’ll gorge himself of the treat. Indulge him and invite him to make a cake with you, and it will be one of the most interesting bakes of your life. How Schlatt got three eggs to stick to the ceiling is beyond you, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s completely fucking sober and hamming up his own cluelessness. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for him hiding all the other eggs around your kitchen as well. How did he get one on the top of your door without it falling when you opened it? That’s between him and god.

Overall, a good 4th place on the list.

(“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Schlatt says, deadpanned, looking you right in the fucking eyes with an undisturbed egg sitting perfectly straight on his head. 

“Where are the eggs, Schlatt.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Schlatt.” 

“Yes.” 

The container you kept them in is completely empty on your kitchen counter, once full of eggs but now reduced to a desolate husk of its former glory. Speaking of former glories, your president turns around, arms crossed and stands there silently. 

You look around. Theres one in the door handle of in the pantry, another wedged between two slices of bread in your bread box, and- oh god. On the fucking ceiling. Three, stuck to the ceiling, unmovable. After a full minute of dead silence you manage a “What the fuck have you done?”, and Schlatt turns to look. 

“Oh hey. There they are.” Your mind turns into a rock, shatters, and crumbles into dust.)

#5: Dream-

Honestly if you’re looking for edible food that tastes range from ok to good Dream is your man. 5th place.

He knows a lot of ‘depression era’ type recipes just because he’s pretty homeless and his man hunts don’t allow him much time to hone his skills. Stuff like bread or mushroom stew comes easy to him after so many times of having to do it on the run. Bread is the only baking he won’t screw up.

Can cook meat well enough too, but doesn’t really do anything special to it (besides his sauces).

To elaborate: Over the unknown span of his life, he’s acquired these recipes for forgotten and questionable sauces that he’ll store in little jars and leave at your house for you to use. They’re odd, and the ingredients aren’t ever what you think might be edible, but they’re surprisingly tasty none the less. He likes to show you a new one every month or so to keep things fresh.

Pretty general about sweets, but has a severe love for chocolate, especially dark chocolate. Has never had one, but dreams about chocolate cake. It’s high on his bucket list and written another four times over.

One of his favorite things to do with you is bake, mainly because of how ruinous it always turns out. No matter your skill, Dream’s vibes decimates any luck the two of you will have while baking. It’s scientifically proven. You left the cupcakes in for a minute-JUST a minute over what they should’ve been and they came out rock solid. Dream tried to eat one anyway. Best part was watching him try to bite through the shell.)

(He thinks he’s over selling it, half-gnawing on the brown cupcake (it was supposed to be vanilla, he thought) and making stupid growls when his teeth barely break through the surface, but the feeling he gets when you start laughing hysterically next to him wipes away any negative thought he had and fills him with utter joy. 

It's very late into the night, and you’re both a little loopy, but all the while you still lean against him as you giggle, the spot tingling where your hand rests on his arm. 

His heart thumps crazily, before sinking. Oh god. He’s in love with you.)

#6: Technoblade-

Knows a lot, but very little. He can cook the meat perfectly fine, but there’s a difference between being cooked and tasting good. He doesn’t know how to season them. Salt is the bare minimum you get.

6th place ^^; sorry king.

He’s good with potatoes though. I like to think that the countless hours spent potato farming had to account for something. He likes having cheese and butter on them every once in a while, but for the most part just eats them salted like an animal. It’s practically a show to watch him eat a cooked potato in three bites without anything but salt on it.

Big man loves food though, even if he doesn’t eat like it. Steak and cooked fish are high on his list of foods, but only if it’s cooked by Philza. And eventually you fall into his “I trust to eat this from you” category as well, but he has a special place in his heart for Phil’s cooking. Rabbit stew is at the very top.

He also eats a lot, being 6’10 and 200 something pounds of muscle, gotta consume quite a bit to keep him moving.

As for the sweeter variety of food, he’s got a massive sweet tooth. The moment you make him an apple pie or honey candy or anything of the like, he’s immediately enamored with you. Sweet things are hard to come by on the smp, especially with how far out he lives, but it’s a secret weakness of his that is very easily exploitable.

(You’ll be the death of him, he thinks, watching you closely as you trudge your way through the freshly fallen snow towards his house. Your normal pack is lighter than it usually looks, and he worries that you may slip and hurt yourself on the ice before you make it to the door. But still, you keep walking until you're standing at his doorstep, fist raised to knock when he opens it for you. 

You look surprised for a second, and then a grin splits your face and his heart races. 

“I can’t stay for long,” you say, having spent at least 30 minutes to get there. “But I wanted to drop this off for you before you went out to hunt again.” 

Out of the bag, you pull another smaller leather bag and hand it to him gently. It rests heavy in his palm, and for a moment he’s sure it’s ender pearls that you’ve brought him. But still he opens it, and he’s immediately taken aback by the smooth golden candies you brought him. 

“They’re honey candies.” At this point you’re practically grinning. “I thought you might like some while I was making them last night.” 

He doesn’t have to see his own face to feel the deep blush setting in on his cheeks and ears. You…. you’re so…… sweet. You are very…. sweet, he admits to himself, and he is very not attached to you. Not at all.)

#7: Fundy and Sapnap tie.

Fundy- 

Has his old man's cluelessness but is a fast learner. He doesn’t have much time to expand his food repertoire so it’s pretty much the basic stuff that he’s eaten during the war or before that when he was younger.

He really likes cooking though, and will invite you to come cook with him for dinner or lunch if he wants to hang out. When they were together, Dream had given him an old dusty cookbook that had several recipes he hadn’t ever heard of before, so that’s where most of what he tries to make comes from. His favorite to date was a special mutton dish that he asked you to try with him on his last birthday. It was just the two of you, but he had never had so much fun before.

Doesn’t like eating fish however, there’s just some bad vibe he gets when he thinks about cooking one or catching one. (Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Despera-)

Loves sweet berries as treats, seeing as that’s the only sweet thing he grew up with. Not too big on other sweet flavors. Likes honey in his tea though.

7th place cooker, will get higher as he learns more dishes.

(He raises his wine high with a laugh, clinking your glass with it as you both giggle drunkenly. 

The lamb you had cooked together turned out amazing, juicy and tender and flavored with crimson fungus juice. The recipe was from an old cookbook he had, he faintly remembers telling you, hiding the fact that it was Dream’s cookbook that he was given after a particularly nasty argument. 

He doesn’t want to think about him, especially not while he’s with you. Especially not when it’s his birthday. 

So instead he ponders the trip through the nether he took with you to harvest some of the fungi, how the juice was tangy and slightly bitter, but how it had done wonders when basted onto the meat while frying. 

You had looked so happy when you two plated the dish, so proud of him, all in a way that Dream never was. 

Even now, as you tiredly smile at him from across the table, cheeks pink and eyes focused solely on the moment you were sharing, he feels at peace for once. This is what contentment felt like. Oh, how he loves you so.)

Sapnap-

Shame the shit cooker. Ok ok, he’s not as bad as some of the others on this list, but that’s just because he can make a half decent breakfast. It’s not much competition.

Bad has desperately tried to teach this boy some cooking besides eggs and toast, but the only things that seem to have stuck are mashed potatoes and grilled pork chops. Neither of which he even likes enough to make often.

He prefers fish to meat, and would eat any kind of cod you offered to him. Likes smoked salmon a lot, it’s something Bad made for him a lot when he was younger. He tries to recreate the dish, but comes up short and feels disheartened when it isn’t like Bad’s. He’d appreciate any time you took with him to learn how to make the dish, and it wholly sticks to his mind afterwards. He never forgets the experience, and treasures it very closely.

Likes not-sweet sweets. Not bitter per say, but just not very sweet. He likes chewy taffy in particular, but the old lady kind that lasts 60 years but gets hard in 6 minutes after being exposed to open air. Gotta be polite about it too, or he’ll end up embarrassed and pout for an hour.

(He’s eaten 6 of those fucking taffies since you sat down on the couch, completely straight-faced as the two of you of you listen to Dream and George talking. 

At this point you’re completely checked out of their conversation, solely focused on the taffy Sapnap keeps eating. Where does he even get those? How many does he have?? You’ve been friends with him long enough to have seen him pop a taffy every other second of the day. He seems to have a stash on him at all times tucked away, filled with paper-wrapped pastel covered sweets. 

“Want one?” Sapnap asks, holding out a light blue taffy with a little star drawn in yellow dye on the wrapper. 

“What?” Startled, you lean back a bit and realize you had been staring him down as he ate, and flush with how rude that probably seemed. 

“Want a taffy? I don’t mind sharing with you, cutie.” He winks and offers the taffy again. “....” You gaze at the taffy curiously. You’ve never seen him offer another person one of his precious taffies before. Hmm. “...Yes, thanks.” 

You take it delicately, unwrapping the wrapper and taking a bite of it experimentally. It’s very lightly sweet, soft and chewy and surprisingly pleasant. 

Sapnap watches you from the corner of his eye, softly smiling when he sees you eat the rest of it. Glad to see someone else has good tastes around here.)

#8. George-

Meager man makes a meager meal. I said what I said!!! This flatbread boy knows diddly squat, and the only things he can cook successfully are bread and mushroom soup. Which he will make. And that’s all he’ll make. Any food that isn’t that is cooked by either Bad or Dream, and he’s still picky about it.

He’ll make you the soup and bread ladies and gents. I’m not saying they’ll taste great together, but he will definitely make them for you. Anything else he’s pretty critical about, and he doesn’t care much for treats or dessert. He does occasionally like dark chocolate though, which he and Dream will beg Bad to make for them. Soon he begs you to make it for him, and then you have to go ask Bad how he makes it so George won’t complain about how it tastes different from Bads. It’s a weird situation. You make a lot of chocolate. Dream and George linger at your house for weeks on end until you get fed up and shoo them away with a broom.

To his credit, even though he can’t cook much, he’s really proud of his mushroom stew. Any time you let him cook, his go-to is his mushroom stew. He likes to feed you and know that you’re not hungry somewhere, and to top it off he gets to show you his prized dish; not Bad’s or Dream’s stew, but his. He’s cute or whateva…

(George places the bowl down in front you, stepping back and turning to grab his own, before sitting down next to you. He immediately begins to eat, and you give him a half glance as you bring the soup up to smell it. 

It… doesn’t smell that bad, actually. Not burnt, at least. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth. 

Despite all you’ve seen of George’s cooking, this is pretty well made. It’s nice and warm, and the flavors are rich and the mushrooms soft. You choose to ignore the small smile of his face next to you, and keep eating your soup quietly together.)

#9: Wilbur

Wilbur can’t cook for shit. Literally nothing. This man knows apples grow from trees and that animals are made of meat and that’s it.

You think Wilbur made any of his food when he was president or exiled or ever? Not a chance. He ate anything given to him, Tubbo and Tommy absolutely brought this man all the food they could find so he wouldn’t get eat straight trash or starve throughout the presidency. Techno slid him bare cooked potatoes in Pogtopia and he thought “oh this slaps….. this is the pinnacle of food”

Which I know, not really sexy. But! This means that the moment you feed him something a step up from a bare cooked potato he is in food heaven. He especially loves saucier kinds of foods with lots of flavor and spice to them, it’s just so fucking good. Food becomes his kryptonite after you feed this silly man.

With sweets, however, he isn’t that much of a fan. He does like those small lemon creme crackers, and you and da boys are the only ppl he’ll share them with.

(You hear him before you see him. The familiar clambering at your window draws your attention away from the pork you were dicing, and one look over your shoulder shows a disheveled but grinning Wilbur. 

“I hope I’m not too late for dinner.” He jokes, brushing off his pants before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple. Soon after that you hear another set of clambering, and two pairs of stomps reveals one Tommy and one Tubbo respectively. 

“What’s for dinner tonight, mate?” 

“Hope you don’t mind if we join in!” 

You sigh, turning back to hide your smile before they can see it.)

// Hope you enjoyed! I might write a pt2 of this later with some other ppl in it lol we’ll see :3

[dollscircus]

Adenn Baar’ur - Chapter 3

(Merciless Medic)

Summary: Finding an injured Mandalorian wasn’t how you expected the night to end; surprisingly forming a strange friendship with “Big Blue” however he begins to realise that you have a connection with another mandalorian which was unknown to you.

Paring: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader. F!Reader & Din Djarin (Siblings)

Includes: Fluff, Character death and angst.

Words: 2, 419

Chapter 1

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

You dream a lot- no not really. You get nightmares a lot. Mostly memories of the day you lost everything. Mother, father and your brother. Din’s screams filled your mind every night, and that night was no different. You woke up yelling while tears streamed down your face. However, your attention turned to your body. Throbbing ribs and head. A slight shuffling caused you to glance at the person standing near your bed. Blue watched you for a couple of seconds, seemingly stunned.

“Sorry-“ You muttered while wiping the tears, “Maker, that’s embarrassing.” You forced a slight chuckle as Blue approached the cot, which bowed under his weight as he sat on the edge. Reaching towards your face, Blue cupped your face with his hands. His thumb wiping away a tear, you found yourself leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. Letting out a shuddering breath mixed with a wince of pain.

“I’m going to kill that, hut'uun-“ Blue muttered under his breath, but you could barely understand it. As he spoke his hand pulled away, you found yourself missing the touch; you hadn’t realised how touch starved you were.

“Who?” You asked as you turned your attention to your body; mostly your ribs as you waited for a response you lifted the hem of your shirt just enough to see the bruising. The dark purple and blue patch seemed smaller than it should’ve, and the pain wasn’t as bad as you remembered.

“I used some of the bacta- helps with pain-“ Blue spoke, noticeably avoiding your question. You dropped your shirt back down and looked at him. Furrowing your brow.

“Who are you going to kill? What’s a hut’uun?”

“I was attacked because of him- a mandalorian. I was mistaken for him.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out of your lips, it sounded more like a giggle.

“I’ve heard stories of how Mando looks-“ You shocked your head in disbelief, “How do you even confuse you two?” Blue was huge- large and for kriff sake blue! You had to be a real idiot to mistake the two.

“Hell of a first date-“ You chuckled, laughing more at the absurdity of that.

“So, you class this as romantic?” He teased.

“Of course,” You responded in a coy tone of voice, “You saved my life. That’s romantic as kriff.” Your tone was joking but your words seemed to make him sad as you didn’t get a response for a few moments.

“Why do you do this?” He asked however you were unsure of what he meant so you tilted your head to the side, “What you do is dangerous. Helping people who don’t deserve it.” The tone in his voice indicated to you that the last sentence wasn’t referring to any of the people you treat but himself.

“I lost my home. My family. Everything. Bounty hunters took me in. Trust me, they weren’t good people by any means but they saved me. So, my only use was as their medic. So, when most of them were killed. I used the only skill I really knew.” You felt a strike of sadness but shook it off before reaching to Blue’s helmet and touching the cold metal, offering the kindest smile you could, “Don’t feel guilty, mandalorian. I’ve had worse.” That didn’t really help.

A sudden thud from down in the infirmary caused you to jump and suddenly pull your hand away. The distant voice of Aki rang out and much to your horror she was calling your name. You jolted forward in your cot yelping in surprise and also hoping your yelp would drown out her yells. However they didn’t, as she burst into your room her yells drowned out yours.

“Djarin!” Eh, you were glad she didn’t say your first name but this was still annoying. You growled and glared at her, as she stared at the strange sight in front of her.

“Aki-“ You started, you hadn’t even noticed Blue go completely still next to you. “What did I tell you about-“ She threw her arms over your shoulders, it seems she didn’t even notice Blue but she did notice your yelp of pain. Pulling back, she brushed the hair from your face and pet your head like you were a child. Pulling away from her, you frowned at her. It seemed she finally noticed Blue as he shifted on the cot.

“Why is there a mandalorian on your cot?” She asked quickly.

“I’ll explain later-“

Blue quickly rose from the bed muttering something about getting back, a little startled it took a second for you to respond. Muttering your own goodbye. However, before he left it seemed he had forgotten Aki’s presence as he gently cupped your face in his hands and gently touched the forehead of his helmet to yours very quietly speaking;

“Be careful Mesh’la.” Then as quickly as he appeared he left.

Aki and You watched the door for a few moments and when he was out of ear shot, Aki turned to you and gave you a look. It read “What the hell?’ Still annoyed about her leaking your name, you shook your head and dropped back to the cot tired. Saying something about getting more sleep.

You healed quickly and by the time it went dark you were working down in the infirmary with little to no pain and Aki was out on a home visit. You kept yourself busy while ignoring any pain you felt. The night was slow which you were thankful for as you sat down in a chair, letting out a tired sigh as you watched the ceiling for a few moments. Completely in your own world but the high pitched sound of your coms caused you to turn your head toward it and check the massage. You picked up the call.

“Hello? Medic here.”

“I’ve got a quarry injured. Could you come meet us at the edge of town?” You didn’t recognize the voice, his voice sounded weird. Almost distorted- more so than usual on coms.

“Near the cantina?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, could you tell me the state of the quarry?”

“Blaster wounds mostly.”

“Got it. What ship are you in and name?”

“Razor Crest.”

You noticed he didn’t include a name as you both hung up the call. Sighing, you stood up and gathered your kit before taking off. Bidding Aki farewell on the way. The Razor Crest was a beaten up ship, not in a horrible state but as you approached the ship the door on the side began to open with a creek. As it dropped to the floor someone began to walk down out the ship. You quickly recognised the person, the last time you saw him he was younger and dropping you off at Navarro. Uriel hadn’t noticed you yet, paying more attention to a small bag.

“Uriel?” You called out, it sounded kinda like a scoff mixed with a laugh, “You son of a bitch!”

He perked up and looked over to you. His bored expression quickly turned to a happy one and his arms suddenly spread open while happily exclaiming. You approached him and you both exchanged an impromptu handshake, he was an older fella and looked like he had been through hell and back- twice. Most of the time, you were the one patching him up.

“D-“ He started to say ‘Djarin’ but stopped himself, “Kid, you look good! Navarro been treatin’ nicely?” The quick jabbing pain in your rib caused you to scowl.

“You look like shit- and of course it hasn’t earned myself some fractured ribs last night.” Uriel took in a quick inhale through his teeth, you glanced up at the ship frowning slightly.

“You can’t fly for shit- so who’s with you?”

As if on cue heavy footsteps could be heard as the Mandaloiran walked down the ramp, smaller than Blue and his baskar looked a little beaten up. He was silent as he drug the bloodied quarry down to the ramp and dropped him at the bottom. The blaster wounds weren’t very bad, so some bacta patches would do the trick. As you patched the quarry, you mostly kept silent as Uriel rambled on but you were vaguely aware of eyes glued to the back of your head. Mando watched you carefully as you worked.

“Hey Mando.” You started, “How’d you get saddled with this sack of shit?” However the person who answered was Uriel.

“We were huntin’ the same person. Split the bounty 40/60.” Your lip twitched in annoyance as you responded.

“Uriel. I didn’t ask you.” You turned around to face the bounty hunters, “I asked Mando.”

“He followed me until I agreed to split the bounty with him-“ Mando said after a few moments and you could hear the irritation in his voice. You suppressed the giggle as you turned back around muttering something about that sounding like him. As you finished with the guarry you rose to your feet and looked to Uriel. Wanting to avoid Mando’s constant gaze.

“I’ll pay you with something else-“ His annoying cheerful full tone faded when he spoke, “Information.” You sighed, and shook your head.

“I can’t live off information, Uriel-“ You spoke but he raised his hand to silence you, while you too spoke Mando excused himself back into the ship with the patched up quarry in tow.

“These a bounty on you. A pretty sizable one at that-“ You tried to think who would want your head however you couldn’t remember pissing anyone off enough on Navarro to warrant something like that.

“Is it on Medic or Djarin?” You spoke, forgetting you might’ve been in earshot of the mandalorian however the sudden clutter in the ship told you he was too busy to listen in.

“Djarin.” Uriel responded, in a hushed tone. You scoffed, and shook your head side to side.

“Well, she’s dead. You guys made sure of that when you dumped me here- Only you and-“ You paused, thinking it through. It was true that Uriel and one other person asked from Aki knew your birth name. Burton knows. Burton's one crazy son of a- Insane, doesn’t care about anyone aside from himself. You were sure that man would sell out his own mother if the price was high enough.

“Burton took my bounty- Didn’t he?” Your voice trembled slightly, the fear is your expression read as panic. Uriel nodded his head, you spoke again. “Is he on Navarro?” Again Uriel nodded. You suddenly did a 180 and took off running. Uirel called after you, confused but you kept running even when Uriel shouted your first name. You guessed on accident but again ignored him and kept going. Hoping you could get home before it was too late.

Uirel watched you disappear and stood by the ramp for a few moments unaware of the quickly approaching Mandalorian until he firmly grasped him agrasped his arm and pulled him towards him. His modulated voice came through as aggressive and urgent.

“What did you just say?” A little confused, Uriel didn’t respond for a couple of second so Mando shook him while repeating the questions and adding,

“Her name. What did you just say she was?”

“Y/N.” Uriel sputtered, “Y/N Djairn.” He thought that a mandalorian was the least of your troubles right now.

The thing about Burtonis. He doesn’t like getting his hand messy, he never lets a quarry live and never leaves them in one piece. Rather plating explosives and watching them get torn to shreds. Aki was home- Maker Aki was home. Your heaving chest burned as you ran, your ribs begging you to take a break and your lungs working overtime. Each panic breath you took hurt and steps were unsteady.

Seeing the infirmary, you were about to run into it when something grabbed you from behind and held you in place. However your panicked state only caused you to throw your body about to an attempt to break free. Yelling out Aki’s name. You pressed into what felt like baskar. Fighting against whoever was holding you back, you struck your elbow out multiple times hoping to get lucky and hit soft a bit only resulting in hurting yourself. You could hear a voice trying to speak to you but you didn’t listen.

He needed to let go- or else- The place is going to blow and Aki’s still in- The shockwave of the explosion sent you both back on to the floor, dust and smoke dusting the front of your skin as you shielded your face with your face with your arms. You hadn’t even noticed the small bit’s of shrapnel had struck your arms. As the rubble settled, the grip around you faltered and let you drop from your hands and knees. The faint red mist coated the floor and you heard screaming. Your own.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Tag list is open!

[bellakitse]

I've got the remedy

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

+

Derek gets sick with werewolf flu, and Stiles is left to watch over him. Their mutual crushes come to a head.

“Werewolf flu?”

Stiles Stilinski looks at his friend Lydia Martin dubiously as she stands in front of the stove, heating up soup. She’d called as he barely crossed back into the town lines – home on break from school, with an SOS text telling him to get his ass out to the Hale house. That wasn’t the surprising part, even being away at Berkeley didn’t stop the wolfy emergency-related texts. However, he could admit that their dear Alpha had a better handle on things these days, and he didn’t get too many ‘the world is coming to an end; we need your google-fu, Stiles’ call these days.

Not that Derek was willing to call his impressive skills ‘google-fu’ in the first place, no matter how much Stiles insists. Just because the big guy had mellowed out over the years doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a sourwolf.

Lydia rolls her eyes at him, probably because she has explained twice, and he’s still not getting it. “Peter didn’t precisely tell us – “

“What?” he drags out sarcastically. “You mean Peter Hale was vague about something?”

Lydia shoots him another look, more annoyed than the last, and Stiles smiles delighted, riling her up is one of his favorite pastimes. “Yes, shocker,” she says, returning his tone. “And he didn’t call it werewolf flu, but that’s essentially what it is, and Derek has it.”

Stiles frowns, looking up at the kitchen ceiling like it’s going to open up and show him their Alpha. “Is he okay?”

Lydia rolls her eyes yet again, and Stiles is starting to worry for her eyesight if she continues this way. “Yes. He’s just more irritating, if that’s even possible. Werewolves barely ever get sick, so he’s handling it oh so gracefully,” she tells him. The aggravation in her voice makes him wince.

“Where is everyone?” he questions. He knows the pack arrived days ago, him being the last one to come back to town due to a late paper he had to hand in.

“Far away,” Lydia answers as she turns off the stove. “I called Deaton. He said that while rare, the werewolf flu is contagious to other werewolves, so I sent them away because I couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with more supernatural whiny babies.”

Stiles snorts loudly at that. “Can’t Derek hear you right now?”

Lydia raises an eyebrow at him. “Like I care about the big bad wolf?” she asks, her mouth quirking upward when a growl vibrates through the house. Stiles shakes his head, amused. It’s times like this when he remembers why he was in love with her for so long.

“Okay, so why did you call me?” he asks, instantly regretting it when she gives him a bright smile. “No.”

“Stiles – “

He shakes his head quickly. “No, you just said he’s moodier than ever – “

“He needs someone to make sure he doesn’t drown in his own snot,” she says patiently, and the house shakes again with another growl.

“His betas – “ he tries over the huff Lydia lets out.

“Will get sick if they come near him,” she reminds him. “You really want to deal with a sick pack?”

Stiles lets out a sigh of his own as he reluctantly shakes his head. Scott alone used to be such a nightmare when he got sick before his wolfy transformation. “What about Allison?” he questions desperately.

Lydia looks at him like he’s stupid, and he knows why. Even years later, Allison and Derek aren’t particularly close. She’s pack because she’s Scott’s mate, but she’d probably just end up putting Derek out of his misery before bringing him tea with honey.

“You?” he questions in a last-ditch effort, knowing it useless by the way she looks at him.

“What exactly do you think I have been doing the last three days when I should have been studying, Stiles?”

“We’re on break,” he argues.

“You don’t win a Fields Medal by slacking off,” she shoots back with a flip of her hair. “Besides, I’m not Florence Nightingale.”

“And I am?” he asks. “What makes you think that leaving me with a sick and, per your words, grumpier Derek Hale is a good idea? I’m just going to annoy him more than usual, which I’m sure is not going to make him feel better faster.”

Lydia gives him a look that Stiles has come to know as her ‘Stiles, you’re such an idiot’ face. He’s used to it, but he’s not sure what he’s said right now to warrant it.

“What?” he questions when she continues to look at him like that.

Lydia rolls her eyes because it seems irritation is her default setting for the day and starts to make her way out of the kitchen into the living room to gather her jacket and purse. “The soup is ready. Make him drink plenty of water, and there are these herbs Deaton gave us. It’s already brewed. He has to drink that too. Word of warning, he says it tastes like death, so he’s going to pout about it. Make sure he drinks it in front of you. The first day the big baby poured it down the toilet.”

“Lydia, please,” he tries again as she puts her jacket on and heads for the door.

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

Proving that she can be even more unimpressed with him still, Lydia rolls her eyes in a way that makes it seem it’s with her whole body.

“I don’t have time for your panic, so let me lay it out for you,” she says, not waiting for him to speak. “You two talk over the phone all the time. When you and I talk, you end up talking about him, and you get stupidly excited about making him laugh. He softens around you like no one else. You like each other, Stiles, and while it’s amusing for the rest of us to watch this little mating dance of yours, it’s also tedious as hell. Now, Derek has been a pain in the ass the last few days, and I guarantee you that you being here will put him in a better mood. So, I repeat, go upstairs and take care of your man.”

Stiles opens his mouth, but nothing comes out as he tries to process the truth bomb Lydia just dropped on his head. Seemingly taking his silence as an answer, she smiles, pleased with the havoc she has just wreaked, and walks out of the house, leaving him alone with a sick werewolf.

“Right,” he says to himself after a moment, closing his mouth and the door. He heads back to the kitchen, working on autopilot as he serves the soup Lydia heated up, pouring some of the herb-tea Lydia mentioned that does indeed smell like death and some water, placing it all on a carrying tray. All the while, he thinks about Lydia’s comments and the truth behind them.

He and Derek do talk all the time, sometimes for hours, about nothing and everything. He does get a ridiculous amount of joy when he can make the man laugh, and he’d been looking forward to coming home and seeing him, hoping to see and hear that laugh in person. There’s also the undeniable fact that he’s had a crush on Derek since high school, something he thought he’d manage to hide pretty well, but if Lydia’s words were true, then maybe not so much.

He feels his face go hot at the idea that the pack might be aware of his feelings, or worse, Derek. Because even if by some chance he wasn’t aware of them before, there’s no way he’s lucky enough for Derek not to have heard Lydia now.

Every part of him is screaming at him to get back in his jeep and drive home where he could hide under his bed until it’s time to go back to school. Instead, he grabs the tray and starts to make his way up the renovated Hale house. He’s faced scarier things than his feelings since learning about the supernatural, and it’s not the first time he’s been interested in someone wildly out of his league.

It’s his M.O.

Besides, there’s no way he could actually leave a sick Derek alone to be miserable if he can make him feel better. Lord knows the guy has had enough misery in his life. With that in mind, he pushes the door to Derek’s room with his hip, ready to deal with whatever is inside.

What he isn’t ready for is how good Derek looks. Stiles hasn’t seen him in person in months since his last break, and he looks amazing. Leave it to Derek Hale to get some strange supernatural cold and still look like a GQ model.

Derek is sitting up on the bed, and except for an impressive bedhead and unusually flushed cheeks under his scruff, he looks as gorgeous as ever.

“Life is truly unfair,” he whispers to himself, getting a raised eyebrow in return.  “What? Of course you would look this good while sick,” he says with narrowed eyes. Frankly, he’s annoyed by just how beautiful Derek is sometimes. “Can’t be like us lesser mortals who look like death when we have the flu? Do you just have to show us up?”

Derek stares at him for another moment before giving him an impressive eye-roll of his hazel-green eyes. “Why are you the most ridiculous person I know?”

Stiles snorts. “That’s simply not true. You also know Scott,” he answers as he makes his way towards the bed, tray in hand, silently apologizing to his friend for the dig.

Derek’s lips twitch for a second before he schools his features, but Stiles still catches it and celebrates the win with an amused grin of his own. It softens a bit as he sits down on the side of the bed, placing the tray on the bedside table to get a better look at Derek.

He stands by his original opinion that Derek Hale is just way too gorgeous in general, much more for someone sick with a magical flu, but this close, he can see the bit of bruising around his eyes from the lack of sleep. His cheeks are rosy-pink from sickness, and before he can stop himself, he reaches out to press his hand against one.

Derek lets out a surprised sound at his touch that startles Stiles into realizing what he’s done. He goes to take his hand off the werewolf, ready to apologize for overstepping when Derek gives him a surprise of his own by leaning into his touch, his pretty eyes fluttering shut, a peaceful look coming over his face.

Stiles holds his breath as Derek lets out another lovely rumbling sound from deep in his throat.

“Your hand is cool,” Derek murmurs softly, his eyes slowly opening to look at him. “It feels nice.”

Stiles bites down on his lip, feeling his stomach clench when Derek’s eyes drift to them, and he licks his own.

Holy shit, Lydia was right. This whole time he had figured that this was just one-sided. That it was him once again developing feelings for someone who would never return his affections. But looking at Derek now, he sees the same want and longing he sees in the mirror every day.

“Oh, screw you,” he breathes out, tightening his hold on Derek when he tries to pull away. “Nope, you don’t get to retreat now, sourwolf,” he warns him with narrowed eyes, proving his suspicions real by the way he listens to him. “You heard Lydia earlier,” he challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“I have good ears,” Derek grumbles back.

“So you heard her when she said we have feelings for each other,” he says, his heart beating faster than usual with anxiety, and he knows Derek can hear that too. Derek’s almost timid, hopeful expression when he gives him a single nod helps ease that worry as he starts to feel hopeful too. “Only all this time, I thought I was the only one with feelings here.”

“I thought you were the smart one,” Derek murmurs, a small grin playing on his lips when he sputters indignantly.

Stiles huffs loudly, even as he’s unable to stop the silly grin that takes over his face.

“Your heartbeat sounds happy,” Derek tells him softly as he looks down to his chest.

“You like me back,” he answers, letting out an incredulous laugh when Derek smiles at him, not denying it. Instead, he looks at him fondly, causing Stiles’ heart to skip a beat at being the recipient of such a rare and special look. “I’m more than happy right now, Derek,” he shakes his head. Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Derek smiles again, pushing off the mountain of pillows behind him, reaching out for him. Stiles does the same, placing his hands on Derek’s bare shoulders, playing with the edge of his white tank top. His face gets inches away from Stiles’ when he stops.

“Wait – “ he starts as Stiles already shakes his head.

“No, no waiting,” he whines, wrapping his fingers around the material of his shirt, leaning forward. He rubs the tip of his nose against Derek’s even as he tries to close the last inch of distance between their lips. “I have had a crush on you since like junior year, Derek. No waiting, no wasting any more time, kissing now.”

Derek chuckles slightly. This close up he can see Derek’s eyes shining with joy, and Stiles wants to be responsible for that from now on.

“I’m sick, remember?”

“Affects werewolves, not humans,” he mutters as he brushes his lips against Derek’s, sighing at the feel of their softness. His sigh turns into a low moan as Derek gives in, hauling him onto his lap, proving that werewolf flu or not, his strength is still superior.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck as he cradles him between his legs. He kisses him slow and deeply, thoroughly, it being such a long time coming. He sinks his fingers into Derek’s hair gripping it harder than he intended, pulling on it on reflex when Derek gives his bottom lip a bite. The pleased growl Derek lets out against his mouth vibrates down his whole body, making his spine tingle. He breaks the kiss to take a breath, only for it to turn into a gasp when Derek ducks to kiss his way down his neck.

“Totally worth the risk,” he gets out, moaning as Derek traces his moles with his tongue.

Derek laughs against his throat. He pulls back to look at him, smiling widely. “You say that now, but don’t complain later if you do get sick.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, not really worried or caring right now when he’s in Derek’s arms. “If it happens, we’ll stay in bed together until we’re both better,” he answers, his eyes lighting up as he speaks. “Actually, that’s a great idea. Let’s stay in bed.”

He waggles his eyebrows, grinning when Derek huffs, rolling his eyes at him.

“The most ridiculous person I know,” he mutters right as he rolls them over, ignoring the yelp Stiles lets out at the sudden movement.

Stiles blinks up at the ceiling while Derek throws an arm and a leg over him, settling around Stiles like he’s his own personal body pillow.

“What about the soup?” he questions even as he starts combing his fingers through Derek’s silky hair, scratching at his scalp with blunt nails.

“Mhmm,” Derek hums out, his face tucked into Stiles’ neck, already sounding half-asleep. “It will keep.”

Stiles laughs softly, but still, he wraps his arms more securely around the sleeping wolf, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead because he can now, closing his eyes too.

The soup can wait.

[pretchatta]

tripping the light fantastic

The brief was simple: infiltrate an Imperial gala and steal a datachip from one of the guests. Hera's contact had procured them false identities as wealthy socialites as well as providing a description of the target, so all they had to do was show up. Kanan didn't see how this operation could go wrong.

Of course, that was before he knew what Hera was wearing.

Things became a whole lot more complicated after that.

that evening wear series i started in june? i finished it!

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 7.5k words

---

“Hera, the hovertaxi’s here!”

Kanan tried not to sound too impatient as he called to her from the cargo hold of the Ghost, but he was cold.

The thin, silken material of his shirt was cool against his skin, and his formal jacket was doing nothing to insulate him against the recycled air of the ship. Hera had told him he’d be fine once they reached their destination, but they would never get there if she didn’t hurry up.

“I’m coming!” came her muffled shout from somewhere above him.

He heard the clatter of heels against the deck and decided to believe her this time, so he walked back down the extended boarding ramp. The spaceport outside was no warmer, but it was a step closer to the extravagant Imperial gala they would be attending tonight. The impractical outfit had been provided by the same contact who had procured their invitations – or, rather, invitations for the two wealthy socialites they would be posing as.

Kanan waved at the taxi driver to indicate they wouldn’t be much longer and got a flat stare from the rhodian in response. He resisted the urge to rub at his eyes; Hera’s contact had insisted that they’d stand out if they didn’t follow fashion trends, and apparently the big one at the moment was glitter eyeshadow. It made his eyebrows itch.

He heard the sounds of someone coming down the ladder behind him and turned back to face the cargo bay.

“I’m sorry,“ Hera was saying, her voice clearer now she was closer. "The straps on these shoes are so fiddly, I don’t understand how anyone could have the patience to wear them every day.”

"You should have said something,” Kanan called back with a grin. Sometimes she really made this too easy. “I’m sure I could’ve helped, I’m great with my fing-”

He was cut off by the sight of Hera appearing at the top of the boarding ramp, the comment dying on his lips. Silhouetted by the light coming from inside the Ghost, one very accurate way to describe her appearance was stunning.

She was wearing a long, sleeveless dress made of the same silken material as Kanan’s shirt, and in the same deep burgundy colour. The V-shaped neckline plunged almost to her waist amidst the elegantly draped material, which clung to her hips and cascaded down her legs. The hem fluttered around her calves, revealing the impossibly high stiletto heels that were the reason for her lateness. They matched the colour of her dress, which contrasted beautifully against her skin.

Kanan gaped at her as all other thoughts fled from his head. He rarely saw Hera without her gloves, let alone the rest of her baggy flight suit; the combination of the dress and so much bare skin was almost too much for his brain to process.

She began to descend the ramp, hips and lekku swaying, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on him. As she drew near he could see she had applied a small amount of makeup – not much, but just enough to enhance her features, plus her own smear of glitter eyeshadow.

She came to a halt in front of him. “So, how do I look?”

He struggled to find an adequate response to her question.

“Words fail me.”

“That bad, huh?“ She gave him a knowing smile, then gestured behind him. "We should get going before our driver gets bored of waiting.”

The thud-hiss of the ramp closing jolted him back to himself. They were leaving Chopper in charge of the ship while they were gone, something that Hera seemed far more comfortable with than he was.

“Right, yeah, let’s go,” he said, shaking his head a little to clear it. He fell in step beside her as they walked over to where the taxi waited.

As Kanan opened the door for her, his hand automatically went to the small of her back to help her in. He aborted the motion with only inches to spare; her dress was completely backless. He jerked his arm back, feeling self-conscious about touching her bare skin, and managed to turn the movement into offering her his arm instead.

Hera took it with a smile as she climbed into the hovertaxi. Kanan followed, careful to sit so that there was still space between them, feeling suddenly warm despite his earlier discomfort. It was dawning on him that the evening ahead might be very difficult – and not just because of their mission.

Their false identities had them attending the gala husband and wife, and he was glad they didn’t need to start pretending until they got to the venue. He knew he hadn’t been subtle in his attraction towards her these past few months, but there was a line between casual flirting and going too far that he had been careful not to cross. Sometimes he thought he saw flickers of what could be reciprocation from her, but she had never given him any indication that she welcomed or returned his feelings and he did his best to respect that.

He had a horrible feeling that he would be getting awfully close to that line tonight.

When they pulled up to the venue, Kanan played the part of a dutiful husband, climbing out first and holding the door for Hera. She gave him a grateful smile as she took his proffered arm and let him help her out; now that the initial shock of her appearance had worn off, he could see that she was struggling without her usual flight suit and boots.

Their destination was a large private home worthy of the title ‘mansion’. It was made all the more impressive by the way it was uplit in the early evening twilight. Though it was in the middle of a bustling city, a narrow border of immaculately trimmed hedges surrounded the house, separating it from the buildings around it. A short flight of steps led up to the open front doors, warm light spilling out in welcome.

“Ready to put on a show?” Hera murmured from beside him.

Their brief was simple: infiltrate the gala and steal a datachip from one of the guests. Imperial suppliers often liked to finalise business deals at events such as these, and tonight ownership of a large consignment of weapons would be changing hands. Hera and Kanan were to locate the seller and swap the chip containing the manifests and shipping details of the sale with a fake, and then transmit the information to Hera’s contact. The shipment would be hijacked and stolen before the Imperials realised anything was wrong. It put fuel and supplies in the Ghost and took firepower away from the Empire, which made it Hera’s favourite kind of operation.

Unfortunately the guest in question was half the reason for the not-inconsiderable security force that was also in attendance tonight. Their disguises would get them in, but it would take a lot of skill and probably a fair amount of luck to grab the chip and then get out. The longer they could go without raising suspicion, the better.

Kanan turned to look down at her, his expression serious. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Her only response was to adjust her hold on his arm, linking them together more securely. He was happy with this; it struck the perfect balance of apparent intimacy, yet she could easily withdraw if she felt uncomfortable. He led her up the steps and to the doors.

The entrance hall beyond might have been described as small and modest by some. Those were the people this event was no doubt for – by Kanan’s standards, it was opulent.

Smooth blue stone lined the walls and contrasted against the golden tones of the floor. The gentle burbling of running water came from a small fountain in the center and echoed off the high, arched ceiling. Ornamental plants in intricately decorated pots lined the edges of the room, many with colourful flowers in bloom, their perfume hanging in the air. A heavy curtain in a rich, deep gold colour hung at the far end, and the faint sound of music could be heard from beyond.

“May I see your invitations?”

A sharply-dressed man in all black had been waiting just inside the door. Pale, slight and human, he couldn’t be a better example of an Imperial if he tried. That image was only reinforced by his companion; standing just behind him was a stormtrooper, silent and imposing.

Kanan affected a look of polite surprise. He had assumed they would give their cover names, maybe present their falsified chain codes. He flicked a glance at Hera, who was looking expectantly at him.

“Invitations?” he stalled, hoping desperately that her skintight dress might yet contain hidden pockets.

“I need to confirm that you are allowed in,” the doorman explained patiently. “You did bring your invitations with you, as requested?”

“Of course we did!” Hera assured him with a smile. “My husband wouldn’t have forgotten something as important as our invitations. They’re in your pocket, aren’t they, dear?”

Kanan tried to remain calm as he widened his eyes significantly at her. He hadn’t put anything in his pockets before they left, and he was pretty sure there wasn’t any chip or card in there already.

“Are they?” he asked.

Hera’s smile became fixed, and he got the distinct impression she was resisting rolling her eyes at him. She stepped forwards, right up to him, and then one of her hands brushed against his hip. Heat flashed through his core in response to her touch. Her hand continued downwards, slipping into his pocket, as her face moved closer to his. It took all of his concentration to hold still.

“Must we play this game at every event, love?” she murmured. There was a low, sensual quality to her already wonderful voice that only stoked the simmering heat in his gut. Before he could think of a way to respond, she leaned in further and her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. It was only the lightest of touches, but his skin still tingled even after she pulled away.

She waved the two slips of flimsi that had just been in his pocket at him, giving him a pointed look.

“Here they are,” Hera said airily to the sentry, passing him the flimsi. “You’ll have to excuse my husband – I married him for his looks, not his brains. But can you blame me?”

The man gave a forced chuckle and looked distinctly uncomfortable as he gave their invitations a cursory glance. Then he gave them a nod and waved them towards the curtained archway.

Kanan let Hera lead him across the atrium. He shook his head slightly; right now, he needed to focus. They had a job to complete, after all.

“I always knew you hired me for my handsome face,” he joked, quiet enough that the doorman wouldn’t hear.

He expected her to laugh it off as she usually did at his attempts at flirting, to gently remind him of the line that existed between them. Yet again, Hera threw him off balance.

She shot him a small smile as she took his arm. “Well, it wasn’t for your ability to check your pockets.”

He was unable to come up with a response as she led him beyond the curtain.

The gala was in full swing on the other side. A huge ballroom stretched before them, towering columns of more pale blue stone holding up the arched ceiling over a curved white dancefloor. The music came from a live band at the far end, and guests in gowns of all colours swayed and twirled over the dancefloor in time with the beat. Precious gemstones glittered under the soft lights, along with shimmering makeup and body paint akin to the eyeshadow Hera and Kanan wore.

Those who weren’t dancing were talking and mingling around the edges of the room. Small droids wove between them, carrying trays of drinks and canapés. Hera snagged them each a drink from a passing droid and they began to slowly make their way through the crowd.

Kanan caught snatches of conversation as they passed, mostly inane chatter with the occasional obsequious flattery or plain flaunting of wealth. He knew without a doubt that every single person present cared only about themselves; the whole event was a sickening display of the extreme inequality that was not just present but practically encouraged by the Empire. He almost felt disappointed that this was a stealth mission and not an opportunity to cause chaos.

They completed their circuit having managed to make only minimal interactions with other guests, and found a space to stand in. The part of the crowd nearest the entryway moved too much to allow them to survey the whole room effectively, so they ended up next to one of the columns about halfway around the dancefloor. It made watching the entrance difficult, but they had a decent view of the rest of the ballroom.

So far, none of the guests present were the person they were here for. Kanan didn’t have a description of their target but Hera had told him they would have a golden sunburst emblem displayed prominently on their outfit. The riot of colour made spotting something that would normally be so distinctive difficult, but they had both been looking and were yet to see the sunburst.

The curtain moved and Kanan craned his neck to see who the newest arrival to the party was, but the ladies’ matching black dresses held no additional colours.

“Let’s dance,” Hera said suddenly from beside him.

Kanan turned to stare at her. “What?”

She was scanning the rest of the room anxiously. “Everyone else seems to be having at least one, and I don’t want to stand out. Plus, we’ll have a better view of the entryway from the dancefloor.” She dumped her empty glass onto a passing droid-table and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

Kanan barely had a moment to put down his own half-finished drink before she was dragging him towards the dancefloor.

“But I don’t know how to dance!” he protested after her.

It earned him a sceptical look over her shoulder. “How can you not know how to dance? It’s easy, just follow my lead.”

She found them a space amongst the twirling couples and turned to him, still holding his hand in one of her own. He briefly noted that they did in fact have a great view of the entrance from here, and then she stepped in close and his attention narrowed to only her.

The heels brought Hera’s face high enough to be very close to his; her breath ghosted over his cheek. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, and through the thin material of his shirt he could feel her fingers were still cool from where they’d been holding her drink. He didn’t know what to do with his other hand, and in his indecision it hovered awkwardly.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Here,” she told him, releasing his shoulder just long enough to place his hand on her waist. His fingers brushed the soft, bare skin of her back and he had to resist the urge to touch more. His whole body felt suddenly very hot.

“Now try to follow my feet with yours,” she murmured.

It took Kanan a few moments to register her words. He could feel the heat of her body radiating through the thin silks of their clothes, and the sweet smell of her perfume filled his nose. He wanted to either push her away or pull her closer; it was agony having her so close, and yet not close enough.

Hera started to move, leading the steps of their dance, and Kanan’s brain struggled to keep up.

“Kanan,” Hera hissed as he stumbled, almost standing on her foot.

This wasn’t working. He needed to focus, or they’d start drawing attention to themselves.

Kanan took a deep breath and cast his mind back to a place he’d sworn he’d never return to. He wasn’t touching the Force, not quite, but it still felt wrong to call on the old meditation techniques. He felt the wash of calm sweep through him as he emptied his mind and regulated his breathing. The Force hummed in response, so close and so ready for him to take it, use it, draw strength from it. But he held himself back from going that far. All he needed was to ground himself.

Emotion, yet peace.

How ironic that, after years of denying his past, it was the Jedi code that he most needed now.

Kanan ignored the irony of his predicament as he followed the movement of Hera’s feet carefully, trying to stay in time with them without getting underneath the sharp heels. Fortunately the steps were simple, and it wasn’t long before they settled into a rhythm.

He managed to keep it together as they slowly traversed the dancefloor. Between focusing on his breathing and on Hera’s steps, he had no awareness of anything else; the contact could have been dancing right next to them and he wouldn’t have noticed. But their cover remained intact, and Hera had eyes sharp enough for both of them.

Once Hera saw that he was keeping up with her, she experimented with something different. She released his shoulder and spun away, still holding his hand. Her dress flared out around her calves as she moved, revealing more of her smooth, slender legs. Her eyes sparkled with the joy of the dance. Kanan’s heart skipped a beat; she was breathtakingly beautiful.

She twirled back into his arms and he took another deep, grounding breath. He wasn’t sure if it was weaker from the dancing or if he was just getting used to it, but her perfume wasn’t as overwhelming now. This whole semi-meditation thing was getting easier, too; maybe he should try it more often.

“I still can’t see the target,” Hera murmured in his ear, and his concentration broke. That low, lovely voice would always be his undoing.

Fortunately, his feet seemed to have memorised the steps and didn’t need his brain to continue moving.

“Maybe they’re not coming,” he replied lightly, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

“No, this contact has never been wrong before. They’ll be here.” She sounded confident in her assertion, and Kanan really wasn’t in a position to argue.

“Though, if they take much longer,” she continued, “we should check out the buffet table.”

He felt an amused grin spread over his face. “You’re hungry?”

“Starving. I meant to grab a ration bar before we left, but getting ready took longer than I expected.”

Something about her admission made affection swell in his chest.

“I think this dance is almost over,” he said, hearing the song start to wind down and trying to hide his relief. “If you want to keep watch I can go find you some food.”

If she was lucky they might have Gruuvan Shaal kebabs, or even some meiloorun. His mind had already drifted to thoughts of what Hera might like to eat as he started to take a step back, but then her grip on him tightened.

“No – wait – I think that’s them!”

Hera’s arms were suddenly steel, holding him in place as she craned her head over his shoulder. Kanan felt frozen in place.

“Where?” He tried to turn to see for himself.

“Don’t look, just keep dancing,” she hissed. “I’ll try to move us closer.”

The band started up the next song, a slower one with a different beat. Hera let go of his hand to place both of hers on his shoulders. Somehow, she was now even closer than before.

“Put your hands on my back,” she murmured, her lips barely an inch from his ear. “Keep following my steps.”

He did as he was told, his short-circuiting brain incapable of anything else, both hands splayed against her bare skin. It was warm under his palms but he resisted the urge to stroke his fingers along her spine. She had moved closer to him so that her chin rested on his shoulder and her chest pressed against his. The silk did nothing to hide the curves of her body; combined with the touch of her bare skin, it would be easy to imagine there were no clothes between them at all.

Don’t think about that, he told himself sternly. He wondered if Hera could tell he was feeling a lot warmer than usual. He tried meditation again, hoping it would cool the flush in his cheeks, but it was harder than before.

Hera led him in the new dance, slightly easier than the previous one. It was slower and had fewer steps, so it wasn’t long before Kanan could let his feet continue for him. There were more distractions with this one, however; as well as Hera being much closer, every now and then the tips of her lekku would brush the backs of his hands. Whenever that happened it was like the light touch was igniting sparks over his skin. The meditation didn’t seem to be as effective now; he worried that at any moment his hands would start trembling.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” Hera whispered. Kanan felt her breath over his earlobe.

“Her?”

“Mikkian, middle-aged, blue skin. She’s got the golden sunburst on her shoulder; she’s definitely our target.”

He felt Hera slightly change the angle of their movement, guiding them across the dancefloor. The steps lengthened and Kanan needed to focus harder to follow them. If anything, the distraction helped.

The band began the final cadence of the song, and Kanan found himself desperately hoping that Hera would let them stop dancing. Maybe even step outside for a minute. Fresh air would be good.

“She’s going somewhere – this is our chance!”

A moment later Hera had slipped out of his arms and was moving away. It took his mind a few moments to catch up, but by then she’d taken his hand again and was leading him off the dancefloor.

With Hera gone, clarity returned to his mind in an instant. They were on the job now: hunting an Imperial for tactical data.

This, he could do.

They were on the other side of the dancefloor to where they’d started, and slightly closer to the curtained entryway. Kanan caught sight of the mikkian woman walking around the edge of the room, staying close to the wall. The sunburst was an oversized brooch on one of her shoulders, contrasting elegantly with the deep purple of her velvoid dress. She reached another curtain and, after a quick glance over her shoulder, she slipped through and disappeared on the other side. Kanan caught a flash of an ornate archway like the one they had entered through and guessed it led to the rest of the mansion.

Hera was still leading him after her, weaving around a table that was in their way. Something caught his eye and he reached out a hand to snag it as they passed, slipping it into his pocket. They reached the curtain that clearly marked the area beyond as off-limits to gala guests and Hera paused, turning to meet Kanan’s eyes. He nodded to indicate he was ready, and she wordlessly pushed it aside so they could follow the mikkian through.

Beyond was a grand-looking hallway. A lush strip of carpet ran down the center and ornately framed paintings hung along the walls. Kanan caught a flash of blue head-tendrils disappearing around the next corner, but Hera was already in pursuit. He wasn’t sure what Hera’s plan was when they reached her; pretend to recognise her and pick her pocket? Knock her out and rob her, hoping no-one would find her before they could get out? Whatever it was, he was ready to follow his captain’s lead.

Something caught his eye, and Kanan nudged Hera. She glanced up at the hidden security cam he indicated and tapped her temple, then winked. It took Kanan a moment to understand, but when he did he nodded with the dawning realisation. There were some types of glitter that scattered light in such a way that it scrambled any sensors trying to detect it; their eyeshadow was not just a fashion statement, but a way to conceal their faces on any security recordings.

Rounding the corner, they found the hallway split as a staircase led up to the next storey of the house. Hera silently pointed to a recent scuff in the thick pile of the carpet on the lowest step. Between the soft surface and the still-audible music from the ballroom their target had the advantage of stealth on them, but there were other ways to track her.

They ascended the stairs in a crouch, but needn’t have bothered. As they reached the hallway at the top they saw a door just finish closing. As quietly as they could, they crept to the door, past more doors, curtains and paintings. Hera was reaching for the handle when Kanan felt rather than heard a presence at the foot of the stairs.

He stiffened.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered to her.

She quickly glanced around. “In here!”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him behind a heavy, floor-length curtain opposite the door the mikkian had gone through.

It turned out to be covering a small alcove housing some kind of ancient relic displayed on a stone plinth. Hera shoved him into the back of the alcove, wedging herself between him and the plinth and twitching the curtain closed again behind them. It was thick enough to let in no light, so they were cast into darkness.

When Hera didn’t move back, Kanan realised just how little space there was around the relic and its stand. It felt like every inch of Hera’s body was pressed against his, warm and soft and utterly maddening. It didn’t help that, in the dark, all of his senses seemed heightened to compensate for the lack of sight. His mouth felt suddenly dry.

He heard the muffled sound of several sets of heavy footsteps on the carpet, and then the soft swish of the door opening and closing. The sweet scent of Hera’s perfume was in his nose again, though this time there was something else underlying it, something familiar that made him think of home. That was strange; he didn’t have a home. Not beyond the Ghost, if that even counted. Muffled voices brought him back to the present situation, a man’s and a woman’s coming from the room behind the door and another one, nearer but tinny, as though it came through a comm.

“This must be the hand-off,” Hera breathed against his ear, and Kanan had to work to stop his knees from giving out. “Sounds like a guard outside the door.”

“What’s the plan?” he managed.

There was a brief pause as she thought. “On my mark, we stun the guard and then two in the room. I’ll grab the data, you keep watch, and then we get out of here.”

“Got it.” He gave a small nod, forgetting that she couldn’t see it. “Wait – we don’t have blasters.”

“I do.”

She shifted against him and then something warm and soft that felt suspiciously like skin brushed against his hand. He snatched it away like it had been burned

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Getting my blaster,” she replied in a calm whisper. “The only way I could conceal one in this dress was with a thigh holster.”

Oh. Okay. Just her leg. That was all it was, just her bare thigh pressing against his hip from where she’d hitched the dress up. Which he’d just touched. His heart was in his throat.

“On three,” Hera whispered, shifting again as she resumed standing on two feet.

“One.”

Kanan felt the hard edge of her blaster against his shoulder as she brought it up to a ready position.

“Two.”

He reached out a hand, ready to pull the curtain back.

“Three.”

Kanan whipped the curtain aside and they burst out of the alcove. Hera squeezed two shots off at the single stormtrooper standing guard, and Kanan was at the door before they finished hitting the floor. It swung open, and Kanan dived into the room beyond.

He caught a brief glimpse of a pair of startled faces and made a split-second decision to go for the man. He was tall, human, and dressed in the crisp, dark uniform of an Imperial naval officer. A swift blow to the head sent him reeling as Hera shot a stun blast at the mikkian. Before the man could recover, Kanan had stepped to the side so Hera could take him down too. It was all over in seconds, the only sounds having come from Hera’s compact little blaster.

He turned to congratulate her, but Hera was already on her knees beside the mikkian patting her down for the datachip. Kanan strode to the door instead, hauling the unconscious trooper inside before stretching out his senses for signs of anyone else approaching.

A prickle at the back of his neck told him that was sooner than he’d have liked.

“Hera, we’re about to have company,” he warned her.

“Hang on – wait, I think it might be inside–”

His ears caught the soft thumps of heavy boots coming up the stairs.

“Hera!”

“Got it!”

There was a click sound and he glanced back to see the mikkian’s sunburst brooch open in Hera’s hand, revealing a hidden chamber with a small datachip inside. Unfortunately, his next look to the hallway outside showed him a pair of stormtroopers cresting the stairs.

“Hey, you!” one shouted.

Kanan cursed as they started to raise their weapons. He ducked back into the room as a pair of plasma bolts hit the doorframe.

“Time to go!” Hera was already on her feet behind him, and he let her push him aside as she stepped up to the doorway with her blaster ready. She darted out just as the bootsteps reached the door; two shots later and both troopers were on the floor, unconscious.

Kanan grabbed her hand. "They'll have called for help; run!"

He half-dragged her in the opposite direction, continuing down the hallway and away from the scene they had created.

“There goes our stealth,” Hera panted from beside him.

They rounded a corner and found the hallway continued ahead, though there were also stairs leading upwards to one side. Kanan shook his head and led Hera so that they stayed on the same level; they wanted to be going down, not up.

“If we can get back to the main party, we can lose ourselves in the crowd,” he said to her, a plan for their escape already forming in his mind.

No doubt it would not be long before someone discovered the five unconscious bodies they had left behind, but they wouldn’t have a description of who to look for. As long as they weren’t caught anywhere they shouldn’t be there would be no reason for anyone to assume they were anything other than genuine guests.

“Good idea, but first we need to get there,” Hera pointed out somewhat breathlessly.

There was another corner up ahead, and if Kanan’s sense of direction was leading him true they should be on the other side of the ballroom now. If the mansion was somewhat symmetrical, then just here –

“There you go,” he panted as they turned the corner. "Our way back."

At the other end of the hall was a staircase just like the one they’d come up. They raced forwards.

Kanan only got a flicker of warning, but it was enough. He skidded to a halt and flung out an arm to stop Hera just as the tinny sound of a communicator reached them from the stairs.

“–assaulted guests and took out three troopers. Do not let them escape. Repeat, all squads to the Clovis wing, at least one attacker–”

The now-familiar sound of boots on carpet was coming up the stairs.

Hera tried the handle of the nearest door, but it didn’t budge.

"It's locked!" Hera hissed.

Kanan looked for an alcove like the one they had hidden behind before. There was a matching one here but it held no ornament, only an empty plinth, and so there was no curtain to conceal them. There was no way they’d be able to run back around the corner before they were spotted, and standing here, out of bounds and out of breath, looked far too suspicious for them to be simply wayward guests. After all, what else would they have been doing?

The white tops of a pair of stormtrooper helmets came into view on the staircase.

Kanan had an idea.

“You can forgive me for this later,” he whispered, pushing Hera by the shoulders into the alcove. He desperately hoped she would; it was a terrible idea, but it might just work.

This space was no larger than the one on the other side of the house. His chest pressed against hers as he yanked the tie out of his hair. His other hand still held her blaster which he offered back to her. She took it automatically despite the confusion in her eyes, but he didn’t release it, instead guiding her to hide it under his jacket as he raked his free hand through his now-loose hair.

The stormtroopers had reached the top of the stairs; they’d be spotted any second now. Time to sell it.

A brush of his fingers tilted her chin up towards his face.

“What–”

Her words were cut off as he bent his neck and kissed her.

Time seemed to stop the moment their lips met. The world fell silent, the only sound his heart pounding in his ears, straining after their sprint through the mansion. His awareness shrank to Hera and only Hera. She had frozen against him, though only a moment ago he’d felt her breathing just as heavily as he was. Not that he was breathing any more; time had stopped.

It was a simple kiss, a press of his lips against hers. It was nothing. It was everything. It was Hera.

And then she kissed him back.

He knew it was just the surprise wearing off as her brain caught up to what they were doing. He knew she was just maintaining the cover he’d hastily created for them. But that didn’t stop how right it felt.

The hand still on her wrist gently stroked its way up her arm to her shoulder, while his fingers under her chin caressed the soft skin of her neck, down, until they brushed along her collarbone. Her breath hitched in her throat and her lips parted ever so slightly–

“Hey!”

Time snapped back to full speed as they broke apart. The stormtroopers had reached them and one was pointing a blaster at Kanan’s chest. Well, it would be more accurate to say both of them, as there wasn’t much space in it.

Kanan was breathing again, even more heavily than before, and he knew exactly how he looked with his tousled hair and the startled, almost guilty expression on his face. What he'd intended as a charade had become all too real as his mind was still reeling from the kiss.

“Oh, uh, sorry–” the trooper faltered and pointed the weapon down. “This area’s off-limits to guests.”

Kanan simply stared at him blankly. Of course it’s off-limits, that’s why we’re here.

“There’s been a security breach,” the trooper tried again, “you need to go back to the main ballroom, sir. Ma'am.” He nodded at Hera while managing to not look directly at her; Kanan got the impression that if his helmet had been off, they would have seen his face steadily turning red.

“A security breach?” Hera repeated in a breathy, Ryl-accented voice. Smart; the confident woman she’d been at the door had helped them to get in, but now they needed to be unassuming and easily dismissable.

Kanan sighed. “Just as I was starting to enjoy this event,” he muttered, loud enough for the trooper to hear.

“We need to secure the area. Please move along.” The trooper gestured towards the stairs, but he was already moving to walk past them and his companion was a few more steps ahead.

Kanan stepped out of the alcove but kept one arm around Hera’s shoulders, keeping her close and allowing the hand that held her blaster to remain concealed under his jacket.

“I hope nothing has been stolen,” Hera said worriedly, still with the accent, as they began descending the staircase. “Our host was telling me earlier, he has quite the collection of old Clone Wars relics here. Very valuable to thieves.”

“Probably what the breach is,” Kanan said confidently. “I’m sure they’ll catch the thief.”

They reached the foot of the stairs and he glanced back over his shoulder; the troopers were out of sight. They’d done it. Around the next corner the archway that led back to the ballroom became visible, the music growing louder with every step. Hera made no move to withdraw her arm and stow her blaster.

“That was a nice bit of quick thinking,” she said, back to her normal voice though she kept it carefully neutral.

Kanan couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more time to warn you. Or, y’know. Ask.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stopped to let him pull the curtain aside, the noise of the music and the guests reaching full volume and washing over them as they re-entered the party. “It worked, and now we’re back to being just two more guests.”

“We’re not out yet,” he reminded her. “C’mon, our best shot is probably right out the front door.”

They weaved through the crowd, Kanan still with an arm around Hera’s shoulder as they made their way slowly back across the ballroom. It almost felt strange that the party had changed so little in their absence, but they couldn’t have been gone longer than half an hour. The band were still playing, the dancefloor was still in full motion, and people still clustered around the edges engaged in conversations.

They reached the curtained archway to the atrium feeling much like they had during that first circuit of the room when they’d arrived. No-one gave them a second glance, too engrossed in their own affairs to spare a thought for two people they didn’t recognise. In a place like this, that meant you were unimportant, which suited Kanan and Hera just fine.

A few scattered guests were lingering around the pool as they ducked around the curtain into the atrium. One of two wafted folding fans at themselves, trying to cool off after dancing. Kanan and Hera were completely ignored as they walked past. The open doors loomed ever closer, along with the freedom that lay beyond.

They were just passing the doorman when his stormtrooper bouncer spoke.

“They’ve accessed the surveillance footage from the halls – the intruders are disguised as guests," he said, his voice tinny through the helmet's comm. "One human and a tail-head. No-one can leave until they’ve been found.”

“Uh oh,” Kanan said softly. The exit was mere steps away.

“Hey, you!” the doorman called over to them. “Stop there!”

Kanan swore.

“Run!” Hera shouted.

They took off as one, tearing down the steps to the street beyond. Blaster bolts hit the hedges as they reached the end of the path and rounded the gateposts, breaking into a sprint. Or, at least, Kanan did; Hera cried out from behind him. He skidded to a halt

“These kriffing heels – I’ve twisted my ankle!” She was still trying to hobble forwards, though at nowhere near the pace she could normally manage.

Behind her, stormtroopers were starting to pour out of the mansion.

“Okay, new plan!”

There was no time for anything clever. Before Hera could protest, he scooped her into his arms and started running again.

To her credit, Hera adapted to her new situation immediately. She still held her blaster in one hand, and as he carried her away she took aim over his shoulder. She wouldn’t be able to hit anything with any accuracy like this, but he knew exactly what she was doing; her shots sent the stormtroopers scattering for cover, allowing him to increase their lead on them.

He darted into an alley. Adrenaline was allowing him to run with Hera in his arms, but it would only last so long before his muscles would register their strain. Now, with no-one watching, was the perfect time to execute part two of this improvised escape.

The Force had been waiting all evening, hovering just next to his awareness, and now he finally drew on it. Kanan leapt, higher than he would have even unladen. He landed on the flat, permacrete roof, and with the Force flowing through his body he was running again.

With no more targets to shoot, Hera's arms encircled his neck, holding on for dear life. Kanan raced over the rooftops, leaping from one to the next over the oblivious pedestrians on the streets below. He’d already oriented himself and was heading to the spaceport. One of the perks of travelling like this was that he could do so in a perfectly straight line. Even if the Imperials tried to shut down the port they’d have to take the long way around to get there.

The scream of a twin-ion engine gave him warning, and he dropped back down to another abandoned alley a few streets over from the spaceport’s entrance. The TIE swooped overhead, searchlights coming on as it entered the zone the Imperials calculated they would still be inside of. Kanan smirked triumphantly.

“Well, that’s one way to save on the taxi fare,” Hera said as he set her carefully back on her feet. He didn’t quite let go of her, aware that she was putting most of her weight on only one leg.

He huffed out a laugh between panting breaths. “Don’t start counting on rides for supply runs.”

She grinned at him. “Of course not, you have a terrible luggage allowance.” She elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

He pretended to look affronted. “Well, if you want your spacious cargo hold back I suggest we get moving.”

Her eyes lingered on his face a few seconds longer, her smile softening with a fondness that echoed in his chest. Then her expression turned serious as she looked towards her injured ankle and took a tentative step onto it. She let out a hiss of pain, but managed to limp to the other side of the alley.

“It’s not too bad,” she said, seeming to find it easier on the way back. Then she started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Kanan asked, confused.

“The whole op was actually not too bad.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?”

“Sure, we were seen, but they didn’t get our faces," – she gestured to her eyeshadow – "neither of us got shot, and we got what we came for. By our standards this was almost a perfect run.”

He joined in the laughter. She had a point; for them, it was pretty good.

“It’s just a shame we weren’t able to get any of that food,” she added wistfully.

Kanan felt a flash of guilt, even though it wasn't his fault. He'd said he would bring her something to eat, but then they'd been distracted by the appearance of their target. He remembered their pursuit of the mikkian, how Hera had immediately been focused on their mission as she'd led him off the dancefloor.

“Actually…”

Kanan reached into his pocket for the item he’d swiped earlier that evening. They'd passed right by the buffet tables on the way to the curtained archway and until that moment he'd forgotten he had in fact kept his word to Hera.

He presented the meiloorun to her with a proud smile.

She gaped at him for a moment, staring between his face and the fruit in his hand. Then, her surprise softened to something he couldn’t quite read. It wasn't just gratitude; there was a warmth to it, an aching fondness in her eyes. She took a step forward, grabbed him by the lapel–

And kissed him.

For a second he was frozen with shock, one hand holding the meiloorun and the other hanging by his side. Then his mind caught up with what was happening, his arms slid around Hera, and he kissed her back.

It was the same as their kiss earlier, and yet it was also different. It was still Hera, her presence filling every one of his senses, but this time there was nothing held back. Her mouth parted easily against his, her tongue gently tracing his lower lip. His free hand caressed the bare skin of her back, his fingers softly stroking up her spine. She shivered against him.

When she pulled back an inch to breathe, he felt like he was floating.

“Definitely a perfect run,” she corrected herself in a whisper.

He gazed into her shining eyes with awe. It’s always perfect with you, he wanted to say. You’re amazing, you look beautiful tonight, I would do anything for you.

Instead, he kissed her again. Her lips were soft and eager against his.

She already knew.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love on the Line - Part 6

A/N: It’s finally here!!!

MASTERLIST      P1         P2           P3          P4          P5

Henry Cavill x Reader

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: heartache, language, angst, a pinch of lovey dovey fluff, cliffhanger 

*****************************

“Ohhh myy god…it’s official. This is the best burger of my life, hands down.”

What could easily be perceived as orgasmic music delightfully made its way to his ears. Seb chuckled studying the beautiful girl across from him admiring her combination of burger grease, ketchup, and mustard staining her chin. Y/N was too lost in the delicious meal to notice Seb gleefully watching her. In an instant his hand wiped away the condiment catching Y/N by surprise. She smiled bashfully blushing.

“Told you I knew a place.”

She sighed genuinely happy in them moment; “I could die a happy girl tomorrow because of this sweet, juicy perfection of a burger. All thanks to you.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“And how did you run across this wonderous joint? Kinda feels off the beaten path.”

“Well, when you fly as much as me you learn to ask around. I never trust the internet when it comes to what I put in my body. I like to know what and where the locals scavenge for a tasty meal.”

“You continue to surprise me …I admire your style, Seb. Original, classy, and you no doubt just about charm the pants off any person who walks your way.”

“Is it working now?” He flashed his most flirtatious smile devouring another sweet potato fry.

Quick on her feet, she shot back with wit and attitude; “Should it be?”

“I gotta say Y/N, I’ve never been happier to wake someone up on a plane until I met you.”

“Damn, you’re suave, Seb. Fucking suave.”

Her eyes bulged from their sockets at her crude choice of words; “Shit, I’m sorry. Ah, fuck.”

His laugh flew through the air like wind on a crisp fall evening; her cheeks flushed.

“I’m not usually such a sailor. Guess you bring out the best in me.”

“I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I kinda like that I fluster you if I’m being honest.”

“So smooth. Are you sure you’re not from LA?  I get the sense that’s a requirement in these parts?”

He shook his head in stark disagreement; “Nope, sorry to disappoint you. Just a common foreigner.”

“And a handsome one at that.”

Shocked at her boldness, Y/N stared down at the remnants of food moving her fries as a distraction from his adorable gaze.

“I haven’t felt this at ease in …well I can’t remember. It’s nice.”

“Couldn’t agree more. I never actually asked what brings you here?”

Seb nervously scratched the back of his head; “Uh, work. Like I said, I travel pretty frequently. Hollywood is a hub of sorts for me. What brings you here?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the hint and pry later. Well, I’m a writer and some big exec wants to discuss the rights to my book series. So, yeah.”

“Y/N, that’s amazing! Are you secretly a super hero, part of the Avengers maybe?”

“Hahah, flattery will certainly get you far. No doubts there.”

“You’re too kind, Y/N. I’m definitely far from perfect.”

“Good. Perfection is overrated. Flaws are attractively imperfect. I mean at the end of the day we’re only human.”

“Consider me intrigued. I’ve gotta stop by a bookstore and check you out now!”

“Oh, hush! If you must know, I try to keep a low profile. So, uh, how long are you here for?”

“A couple days. I’ve got a bit of free time after my meeting tomorrow and thinking of hitting some trails while I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, LA is cool and all, but kinda suffocating. I try and maintain my distance if possible.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir. The hustle and bustle of London is the literal definition of overwhelming. Countryside getaways were my one true savior. Sometimes London feels like an overpacked sardine can just waiting to explode.”

“So why did you stay?”

Y/N bit her lip trying to keep quiet. She hadn’t once though of Henry since meeting Seb. The lump in her throat appeared by just the mere mention of her subconscious. A part of her wasn’t ready to reveal the ache left beneath her exterior.

“Friends and family. What else ties a person to one place?”

“Love? A relationship?”

His coyness was flattering. She gave into his curiosity.  

“Are you asking if I’m single?” Her feigned expression was enough to send him into a fit of harmonious laughter.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on your answer, I guess. Part of me believes you’re too good to be true which usually means taken.”

“HA, no. Relationships and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Ah, sounds like heartbreak hotel is just around the corner….”

“I recently got out of a long-term relationship. So, to answer your question; Yes, I’m single and so not ready to mingle.”

“Are you assuming I’m hitting on you?” His shocked appearance made her question their entire encounter and if she’d been reading the signs wrong all along.

“Well, good thing I’m only here for the coffee and platonic company, hm?”

Seb raised his mug in salute as her stress magically melted away; “Break-ups suck. But allow for a real opportunity to see who you really are. Pain can be a bitter reminder of sadness and strength.”

“Wow, philosophizing so soon into our newly found friendship? A man after my own heart!”

Y/N playfully placed her hand over her heart, smiling for particular reason.

“How about if you’re interested and only 100% positive you aren’t sick of my company; we do dinner or even drinks? Whichever the lady chooses.”

Seb motioned in jest. Y/N tried to remember the last time she’d felt so carefree unable to pin down an exact memory. For far to long Y/N trapped herself in a fog allowing Henry to rule over her even when he wasn’t physically there. It had to stop, she had to quit placing him on a pedestal if she had any luck of moving on from their failed love affair. One torturous long minute passed as Seb’s nerved ramped up.

“Shit, I’m that weird dude, now. Forget I asked and let’s chalk it up to an amazing afternoon as strangers who leave this diner and head back to our own separate lives without consequence?”

Again, Y/N was speechless contemplating what she truly wanted to do next.

“First things first, stop blubbering, you seriously are ungodly handsome. And on second note, our chance meeting was unexpected but kinda sorta awesome. I’d love to see you again. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt so free…and don’t even get me started on the belly aches due to your comedic skills.”

“Damn, a woman that speaks her mind. Are you sure you’re not in politics?”

“Nope, never, no thank you. Sooo, it’s a date?”

Seb furrowed his eyebrow in pleasant surprise; “You said it, not me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes; “Yeah, yeah. What do the kids say nowadays…. YOLO?”

“Yes, and please never say that again.”

A napkin holder was placed strategically resting against the window sill. Seb signaled to their middle-aged waitress; “Pardon me, do you have a pen handy?”

“Course, darling. Anything for ya.” She winked dropping the pen on the edge of the checkered table leaving them to privacy. He scribbled his number on the grainy piece of paper and slid it her way.

“I’ll leave the ball in your court and pass the privilege of reaching out to confirm details.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead? Obviously not in Romania.”

“What fine establishment do they have you shacking up in?”

“Chateau Marmont. Long story short, my publisher fully embraces and understands my introverted nature and love of historical hotels. Call me an oddball.”

“Oddball.”

They snickered like school children slowly understanding their time was coming to a close. A power, a force of sorts gravitated Y/N towards him. He felt the same way.

“I happen to think women who especially history buffs are so incredibly magnificent. I haven’t met many as beautiful as you.

Their flirtation skyrocketed like flicks of fire firing between them.

“Knowledge is like your super power…. also, intelligent women are a complete turn on.”

She swatted his arm smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

“Come on, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off.”

He offered his hand helping Y/N to her feet. She lingered a second too long. With Seb a couple steps behind her, she missed the clinch of his fists and Seb’s reddened cheeks.

---The Next Day---

No luxury was forgotten as Y/N observed her decadent hotel room, but no matter how comfortable the memory foam or high thread count sheets, Y/N tossed restlessly the whole night. Her anxieties attacking her mind at every possible angle. Worry engulfed her clutching on her own insecurities. Her fear? 

That she’d walk into David Fincher’s office and leave very humiliated and very far from home. Henry’s ghost loitered just out of reach. A ghost can be many a thing; a memory, a daydream, a secret, but most times, a wish. Old or new. But that was the past, memories she must let go of.

Y/N stared at the ceiling wishing her bed to open up and swallow her whole finally dozing off to her temporary dreamland. But sunlight painted the walls like a colorful painting. She stretched and moaned at the sensations of her waking bones.

Making her way to the bathroom, Y/N’s phone chimed forcing her to circle back towards the obnoxious device.

Seb: Buna dimineata prietene! (Good Morning, friend)

Y/N: Romanian? So early in the morning. How dare you sir?

Blinking dots ran across the screen as Y/N waited impatiently for his witty response.

Seb: Never too early for greatness. As they say in the theater, break a leg! But not an actual leg because I might be looking forward to our date. Okay, good luck with the meeting!

Y/N: Thanks for the good juju. Same to you! Call you later.

She unconsciously rubbed at the tender swell in her chest, the fluttering in her belly kicking wildly. Butterflies. It’d been ages since she’d been this excited and it surprised Y/N. Maybe she was ready for something more…Y/N shook her head ridding herself of such silly thoughts. She knew better than to rush full steam ahead.

    ---Later that day---

The fourteenth floor was decorated to architectural perfection. Every space had its purpose and the décor elegantly stylish.  There she stood in the presence of cinematic greatness! As Y/N was about to pinch herself, she heard an echo of a name. Looking up, she searched for the unknown voice before landing on an enthusiastic figure waving her direction.

“Y/N! So nice to finally see you in person. I’m Meg.”

“Meg, so glad to put a face to a name. Thank you for having me.”

Both women walked down a hallway lined of glass walls smiling at those who looked up.

“David has talked nonstop about your series. So much so that I ended up devouring your books in three days. You’re freaking brilliant!”

“You really think so? I worked my ass off to get it through any publishing house. I was on the verge of chucking my ideas in the trash and getting an actual job that paid real money if it wasn’t for a last-ditch effort.”

“I’ve blocked off a thirty-minute window before his next meeting begins. He’s booked back-to-back today but by no means feel rushed. He hates when I push him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Her head bobbed nonchalantly taking notice of the stunning scenery from the 17th level.

“Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Best of luck, Y/N.”

Meg knocked; “Come in!”

“David, this is Y/N.”

“Thanks, Meg. Close the door behind ya, we’ve got loads to discuss.”

David extended his hand towards Y/N’s shaking firmly. Y/N reminded herself to breath and to quickly find her manners.

She stuttered trying to remember common speech causing David to laugh aloud.

“Ms. Y/N, you okay?”

“Yyess—just a tad shell shocked. I mean, I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with the David Fincher. Unbelievable, really. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You wrote one hell of a series that I trust can be transferred stunningly over to the silver screen where it can be fully appreciated. I’ve never seen someone mold together so many genres with such ease yet adding a layer of complexity. You, young lady, kept me guessing every twist and turn. That doesn’t happen too often if you catch my drift.”

“I-I, it’s just nice all those late-night writing sessions and waiting tables paid off. I’ll have you know I was on the verge of giving it all up and going back to school.”

“So, let’s get down to details. My team and I have come up with an offer that is totally open for negotiations.”

David slid a piece of paper into view. Y/N stared at the parchment gob smacked. Her jaw fell open at the written proposal.

“Holy shit.” Her eyes snapped up at her vulgar language; “Shit! I don’t mean to be impolite.”

“Ha, it’s a bit flabbergasting upon first glance but I promise you I want to do everything in my power to make this work for both parties.”

“Am I…am I reading this correctly?”

“Indeed, $10 million for the first two films, advancing to an additional $13, $15, $17 million for the last three. Of course, aiding us in the writer’s room to make sure we bring your story to live through your eyes. This will undoubtfully increase book sales across the board, I’d say upwards of $60 million if all goes accordingly. Also, I didn’t forget about making you an executive producer.”

“You’re kidding me, riight? Am I dreaming?”

“You’re gonna be a big deal once the tabloids get their sticky fingers on this. I mean this is going to skyrocket you to the likes of Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins status. I mean, I had to outbid Peter Jackson just for a chance at directing this masterpiece. Darling, you’re all Hollywood can talk about right now.”

“Wow, I’m, uh, seriously grateful. I guess I’ve been shacking up in London far too long. I don’t really read celeb gossip so needless to say I’ve been in my own bubble.”

“A huge thank you goes out to Henry Cavill for pitching the initial idea. He helped get the recognition you deserve. Nice fellow, that one.”

Momentary shock came over her face, mouth still agape; “He—Henry had a hand in this?”

“Most certainly. He was the one who brought it to my attention. Of course, he mentioned the desire to work with me was motivation enough, but genuinely, he seemed passionate about the project.”

“I-I had no idea.” Switching gears as fast as possible Y/N trotted forth; “So realistically, when can we get the ball rolling?”

“Once the proper documents are signed and stamped, we’re good to go. If negotiations aren’t necessary, I’d say within the next month or so we can start casting calls, booking air fare, figuring out destination shoots, getting a manuscript going. It comes together faster than people think. How about this; you mull it over, call whoever you need, and get back at me in the next couple of days. Sound good?”

“Sounds more than good! I think I’ll be forever be in your debt, Mr. Fincher.”

“Please, call me David. We have a long road ahead of us that has truly stoked a fire in me, all thanks to you.”

Her nerves triumphed pushing Henry to the back of her mind. Y/N had bigger fish to fry.

“May I be frank with you, David?”

“By all means.”

“As you probably know Henry’s my ex-fiancée. Is it true you’re possibly considering him for the lead role?”

David looked around quizzically composing himself.

“I figured we’d have to address the elephant in the office. Yes, I was aware and I didn’t consider him to be malicious. He’s a genius actor and I figured it was worth a chat. But if you’re worried about anything, just say the word.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize his successes. I agree, he’s an untapped actor full of surprising talent. I’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Rest assured he isn’t even in the country. Believe he’s still galivanting about London.”

Silently pleading to change the subject, Y/N snapped out of it as quickly as she flew in to.

“This is a dream come true. I’m really looking forward to working with you and bringing my story to life.”

The squeaky hinge of the door alerted her to Meg’s foreboding presence. Taking a cue, Y/N stood up shaking David’s hand beaming like a child on Christmas Eve.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N. Until then, enjoy your stay. Venture out. You’ll find LA isn’t all plastic and bullshit.”

“Oh, thank god. For a second I was getting nervous.”

“Haha! Meg, next appointment here?”

“Yes, he’s right around the cor--.”

“Y/N?”

She searched for the familiar voice unable to pin it down.

“Seb!? Wha...what are you doing here? I thought you had that big meeting today?”

“Uh, I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Sebastian nervously scratched his neck. Bewildered and thoroughly confused Y/N pushed on; “Wait a minute…. Are you an ...?”

“Actor, yes.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Wait.”

“Holy shit. You’re Shirley Lovecraft. Catchy pseudo name. So, you’re the brains behind this witty madness. What an interesting turn of events if I do say so myself, a happy one.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Kinda embarrassing.”

“Don’t. A perfect afternoon with someone who wasn’t using me for fame or money? Did I mention you look breathtaking today?”

Her cheeks fumed with heat stirring her butterflies back to life. Seb’s hand stilled on her waist unwilling to let go as they continued gazing at the other.

“Earth to Seb?

Seb broke eye contact first glancing over at David. Y/N was too busy memorizing the glimmer of his cobalt blue eyes.

“Yes, ah! So rude of me. Hello there, so great of you to squeeze me in. I appreciate it.”

He directed his attention towards Y/N once more leaning close to the shell of her ear; “Still on for drinks later?”

“Definitely.”

His wink sparked a jolt to her core leaving her weak in the knees. Somehow, some way, Y/N mustered enough confidence to walk without tripping. She glowed the whole walk to the elevator. Y/N pressed the button too lost in thought to hear the quiet ding of arrival strolling straight into a hard chest. Enormous hands grasped her shoulders; “Oh! Apologies Ms.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying atten—oh shit.”

Only one particularly charming British accent that could send a chill down her spine, one very distinguishable voice indeed. 

“Y/N?”

Time froze icily still.

“What the fuck? Henry??”

~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:  @thedeadhearted @giveusbackourbucky @henry-cavill-obsessed  @onlyhenrys @omgkatinka @thereisa8ella @threeminutesoflife @homewreckingwreck @gemini0410 @maan14@bluegalaxyprime @sofiebstar @whyyykitkat @encounterthepast  @readermia @ly-canthropewrites @scorpionchild81 @henrythickcavill @snowbellexx @stephartrave @agniavateira  @cap-barnes @henryfanfics101  @mary-ann84 @westcoast-nightowl @poledancingdinos  @justaboringadult @peakygroupie  @nalathefirefly @vikingsbifrost @bloodyinspiredfuck @moderapoppins @cooldiva1234 @icedcoffeeismythang @titty-teetee @summersong69 @kaatelyyynn @missursulacalmet @michelehansel @iloveyouyen @shyshu @star017 @raynosaurus-rex @radkesgirl83 @starrynite7114  @wheretheriversrunintothesea @i-love-scott-mccall  @darkbooksarwin @ellieseymour70 @designerwriterchic @studywithrosie01 @dangerouslovefanfic @lebguardians @crazybutconfidentaf @hen-cavill  @cavill-sass @oh-for-fic-sake @icedbottles @buckysgoldenheart @brexrif @gryffindorwriter @laketaj24 @foxyjwls007 @lawsofthejungle @henrycavillfanpage @kaboogie21 @fangirl199812 @gothicninibalor @qualitynightkoala @strictlybuckybarnes @toomanyfandomsshreya @hersilencescreams-blog​ @viking-raider​ @sesamepancakes​  @madbaddic7ed​ @fuckoffbard​ @funfickgirl22​ @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @hoeforhenry​ @henrycavills-babe​ @abschaffer2​ @loving-this​ @one-of-those-fanfiction-blogs​ @lovelycavills​ @beck07990​ @bokillylovesloki​ @michelehansel​

[gr0vndz3ro]

Prove Your Worth

Ceo!Bakugou x Reader(NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, slight bondage, slight degradation, dirty talk

Word count: 3,968

A/n: My friend gave me this idea because she really wanted to see a ceo bakugou and this is how I imagined it would happen but also im a hoe for some ceo sooooo. I enjoyed this a little to much so it turned out longer than what I expected that's what she said. Also I have had to rewrite this so many times because my computer is stupid. I’m also going to be taking requests for other characters in the BNHA fandom. This was my first smut so I hope y’all like.

You stood in front of the two daunting glass doors, a lump growing in your throat as you hold onto the intern paperwork. You’re in your third year and at the Sports Festival you were finally able to make it up to 2nd place. For the first time you had more than 50 offers, a LOT more. You knew that in order to become a successful hero you were going to have to try to get in with a Pro. You were surprised to see an offer from one Pro let alone two. Deku . . . and Ground Zero, shuddering at the thought of the intense Hero. 

You take a step forward and pushed open the door, looking around the lobby and spot the receptions desk and walk over. A lady with short pink hair is typing away at the computer.

 “How can I help you there?” She said without looking up or even pausing her ferocious typing. It had honestly caught you off guard as you were just going to wait for her to finish.

“I’m Y/N L/N, the 3rd year from UA, and I was here because of the offer I got for the internship?” you hand over you hero license and show her your school I.D. She takes both cards and looks at them. You glance down at her name tag as she continues typing in the computer looking up the information, noticing that it says Mina. Wasn’t she in the same class as Deku and Ground Zero, as a matter of fact all of Ground Zero’s old high school friend group work at this agency.

“Alright it looks like in here you have a meeting with the big guy for 1:00. He’s in a meeting right now and he should be out soon... hopefully. If you head to the top floor there is going to be a waiting lounge to your right once you get out.” Mina says, interrupting your thoughts. She gestures to the elevator and flashes a quick smile.

“Thank you so much” you smile back to her and head over to the elevator. Once you enter you notice just how many floors there are. I’d expect nothing less from the Number 2 hero. You click on the top floor and make your way up. Once the elevator hits the top floor you spot the waiting area and make your  way over

. ~time skip~

The meeting Ground Zero was in went over schedule to say the least. It was currently 2:30 and you were still sitting in the lounge. Mina had even come up for her lunch break to keep you company once she found out the meeting was going over. Maybe I’ll just go with De- your thought was cut off by a door down the hall being opened.

 You quickly stood up and fixed your skirt and looked at who exited the room. You soon recognized them as the Pro Heroes Deku and Ground Zero themselves. They start to walk down the hall towards where you am standing, still in conversation. Once they make it to where you was the green haired man notices in there and turns to you and smiles.

“You’re Y/N, from the Sports Festival right? I’m sorry I wasn't able to make our meeting this morning, as you can see now, something had come up. I do hope to reschedule and talk to you about joining my agency for your internship. You’re very talented with that quirk of yours.” Deku says to you. He then turns back to Ground Zero and says, “I really hope you change your mind Kacchan.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that you damn nerd.” Ground Zero glares back at the him at the nickname. Maybe it’s an inside joke? Deku chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh yeah, sorry about that Bakugou. I do hope to hear from you though.” He turns away from him and back to you “And you too.” and with that he headed to the elevator. While watching him walk away you hadn’t even realized that the angry man that was once in front of you was no longer there. You look around to find him when you hear

“Oi are you coming or what?” come from the direction of where the two heroes had originally came from. You scramble to grab your stuff from next to couch and rush over to where he was holding open the door. As you walk in you mumble a thank you to which he only replies with “Tsk-” and then go to stand in the middle of the office. It was very spacious with all black furniture and state of the art technology. The office was surrounded with ceiling to floor windows that covered the three walls that lead to outside. A door was off to the left that lead to his rap-around balcony that you could sort of see due to the half open blinds.

 “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take a seat?” Bakugou says while seating behind his desk, grabbing a file that was put off to the side. You take a seat in the chair in front of his desk, placing your bag on the floor next to your feet. Looking up you can see him going through what you believe is to be your academic file. You take the moment to look at who you could possibly be interning with. He was quite handsome... and by handsome I mean fucking hot. His blond hair was slightly messing from what you could assume was from his prior meeting and was starting to fall in front of his deep crimson eyes. He slightly bits his lip focusing on the paperwork in front of him, those same intense eye darting back and forth. Your eyes start to travel down his torso to see that his black button up had the top few buttons undone. Then to his arms seeing that the fabric on his sleeve is tightly accentuating the muscles trapped inside of them. Hell the whole shirt was tight on him and you can’ t tell if it was because the shirt was a size to small or he was just that built. His hands start flipping through the file and you catch him lick his finger to help turn the page. You shouldn’t find someone flipping a paper this attractive but seeing the way his long fingers curl around the page sends a chill down your spine. You start thinking about the things those hands could probably do, and you press your legs together so that you can try to ignore the warm feeling that was starting to build. I have to be professional! Behind him you could see a discarded tie and a suit jacket that was probably on him at some point of the day. I wonder how intense his last meeting had to be in order for him to start stripping. What would have happened if it had continued? You’re interrupted by your thoughts once again by him speaking.

“So it looks like here that your first year in the Sports Festival you only had made it into the calvary battle, your second year you had only made it passed the first round in the battle tournament and then this year you finally managed to place 2nd. While I will say you’ve improved a lot, how do I know that what you did this year at the Festival wasn’t just a fluke and that you are actually talented enough to be one of my sidekicks?” He places the file down on the table looking up at you with one brow quirked. You pause in shock but shake out of it, not to sure why you were shocked though, he’s the 2nd best hero so of course he’d only accept the best in as his sidekick. You looked down at your lap but quickly brought it up when you heard him clear his throat.

“Well I-I think t-that it shows just how m-much I have improved over my time at UA and h-how much I more I could improve at your a-agency.” you stutter under his intense stare. Get it together! I press my hands together and hold the edge of your skirt trying to calm yourself.

“Yet I’m not the only company you’re interested in interning with am I?” He questions you while standing up from his desk. As he walked around to front of his desk he continued talking, “Your first choice was with that damn nerd. So tell me, why should I take you in if your showing such interest in him?” He sits in front of you on the edge of his desk. You took a deep breath in so that you could get your next sentence out with some form of confidence, even if you had to fake it.

“I actually was originally only interested in trying to get and internship here, as I think that I would be able to develop my quirk and fighting skills better here. But it wouldn’t have been smart to keep my options so limited so I made sure to check out his agency as well, seeing as he’s the Number One-” you quickly got interrupted by a loud slam causing you to let out a squeal.

“Don’t- Fucking- Say- It. It’s bad enough I gotta hear it all over the news and from the idiot himself. I’m not going to be hearing it again and that gonna be your only warning.” Crimson eyes glare into you. You swallow the lump in you throat and squeeze your thighs harder together, suddenly getting very warm. He takes in a deep breath as to calm himself down. He pauses before going to ask his next question. 

“Can you explain your quirk a little bit” he looks back, running his hand through his hair, waiting for you response.

“Oh yeah. My quirk is called Atmokinesis. I’m able to control weather but after some intense training I’m starting to be able to work on the individual elements that go into each type of weather. So far I’m really good with lightning, water and air but I think I struggle most with the raw power behind fire, which is why I thought it’d be really good for me to intern here seeing how good you are with controlling your explosion quirk.” you explain to him and you see him start to smirk at the indirect complement.

“Well you fucking got that right.” he scoffed “What made you want to become a hero?” he asked. It sounding like these where prewritten questions used on everyone who sat in this chair. You laugh a little and respond

“I feel like my reason is the same as most. When I was little I was obsessed with All Might and I always told my parents that I was going to be just like him. They pushed me toward that dream and helped me along the way. Although I will say when All Might had to retire I think is when I made up my mind for sure. I knew that the world was going to need more heroes out there to replace the symbol of peace.” I smile a little thinking back to the fond memories of my childhood. and continue “but then again I guess he’s sorta been replaced huh? Seeing as how Deku has such a similar power to the great hero-”

“I thought I fucking warned you about talking about him” your eyes snap to his crimson ones as you realized what you had said. The anger on his face prevalent from hearing about the status of his rival.

“I-I’m so sorry I-I didn’t mean to I swear I had just forgot about-” 

“Shut up” His voice cuts you off. You look down at my lap hoping to avoid his gaze. I just blew this interview. He leans up from his desk and walks over to your chair.

“Stand up, I’m going to show you something” his voice much deeper than It was just moments before making your knees week. You look up at him in confusion but realize he was probably kicking you out. You stand up, your head hung low as you go to reach for your bag when you’re stopped by his hand grabbing your wrist. You go to look up but when you do he starts leading you toward the door. As you go to start apologizing again he stops you both at a display case that was next to his door. 

“What do you see” He lets go of your wrist and takes a step behind me so that I can get a proper look at the case. 

You look and see a key to the city that is given to each of the top 10 heroes, A few trophies for various achievements and a lot of medals from his time at UA. On the wall next to the case you could see various newspaper clippings from major accomplishments he achieved. Top ten most successful 20 year old's, his first appearance in the newspaper, his first solo debut, and many more including some of his most difficult wins.

“What you see there is the work of a real hero not some god damn wanna be you got that?” you jump as you feel his hot breath against your ear, you shiver as chills cover your arms. You turn around to face him and start backing up when you notice how close we are.

“I’m really sorry sir, I really didn’t mean to bring Deku back up, I had just gotten carried away and I-” you look back when your back hits the wall next to the display case. But your head quickly whips back around when you feel heat in front of you. You let out a gasp as his hands slam on the wall on either side of your head. His head dipping into the crook of your neck.

“You better listen to me now. The only name that’s going to be coming out of those pretty little lips of yours is mine... you got that princess?” your eyes widen when you hear his request. His lips trail along your neck the warm sensation making you whimper. He continues moving around as if looking for something.

“I don't understa-” a moan slips out as he kisses a certain spot on your neck. You feel him smirk against your neck as he found what he wanted. His hands move front the wall, one finding there way to you hip, the other to the door right next to you and you hear it click. He locked it. He moved back up to you ear and growled

“Don’t think I didn’t see you earlier, checking me out and squeezing your thighs, this is probably exactly what you were thinking of, isn’t that right. I want you to tell me what it was that was going through that dirty little mind of yours.” your body shakes and you’re left there speechless, but you try to pull yourself together.

“I was thinking about your h-hands and how your long fingers curve a-and the things you could do with them.” you stutter as you feel his hands travel further down and start to hike up your skirt as you tell his about your lewd thoughts, his hands assaulting your thighs, sliding his rough hands up them toward your now throbbing core. You let out a moan when his thumb rubs against your clothed clit, damp with your own slick.

“Look at you, soaking wet just thinking about me. dirty little slut. I haven't even done anything to you yet you’re all ready for me.” He pushes aside your underwear and runs his finger up your core, gathering it all on his finger. “so fucking wet” he groans against your neck more to himself.

He digs his finger knuckle deep into you causing you to gasp but it’s quickly cut off by his mouth meeting yours. His tongue entering you mouth to prove to you his dominance. He slowly starts pumping his finger in and out, catching you by surprise when you feel his second finger stretch you out. Every time his finger enters you, you can feel him curl it up too hit your spot. A breathy moan leaves your lips as you feel a knot start to build in your core.

“Fu-uck Bakugou” you let out as you feel the tingling sensation start to take over your body, your hands traveling up to his hair so you could have something to grab onto.

“Call me Katsuki” He smirks at you increasing his speed of his assault on you, knowing how close you are. Just as you felt yourself almost come undone he pulls his fingers out making you let out a whine at the loss of contact. You felt so empty and you knew you needed him to fill you up.

“P-please Katsuki I need you” you mewl moving your head to his jaw, kiss down to his neck stopping right underneath his ear. You pause when you hear him let out a groan. You start to lick and nibble at the spot needing to hear that sound come out of him again. “I want to feel you fill me up”

“Fuck that's it, jump” His hand on the back of your thighs. You do as he says and jump, rapping your legs around his hips, his hard on pressed against you. You shuttered at the size of it, even through his pants you could tell just how big it was. You brought your mouth back to meet his as your tongues battle for dominance, this kiss so much more passionate than before.

He walks the two of you over to his desk placing you down on it. Your hands make their way from his hair to his shirt to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. You place your hand on his chest feeling his muscles while his hands move up from you thighs to the edge of your shirt. You comply with his silent demand by taking of your shirt while he undoes the clip on your bra causing the garments to fall to ground. He pulls you off the desk.

“Turn around for me” You look him in the eyes, confusion all over your face. “Did I fuckin stutter? Now be a good girl and do as your told.” you immediately turn around, feeling his hands go to the zipper of your skirt pulling down, taking his time to squeeze your ass as he passes it. His hands suddenly leave your body as he whispers in your ear “There you go, close your eyes and don't move okay babygirl.” 

You hear his foot steps leave you and you hear rustling from somewhere in his office. It goes quiet and you were about to open your eyes when a pair of hands grab your wrists and pull them behind your back. You open your eyes as you feel a soft fabric get tied around them. You turn around to see Katsuki wrapping his discarded tie that you saw earlier. Him biting his lip focusing on knotting it tight. You feel him put his hand on your back and push you against his desk. Pressed against your back his breath hits your ear.

“I want to hear you beg for me, I’m going to have you screaming for me to stop. When I’m finished with you, you’re not even going to remember that damn nerd’s name, I can promise you that.”

He roughly pulls down your underwear and goes to remove his own pants and boxers. You hear ruffling of plastic and look back to watch him slide on a condom, slick running down your legs as you get a view for how massive he was. He aligns his tip with your entrance rubbing it up your folds gathering your juice.

“So wet, just for me”  he groans as he pushes himself inside of you. You let out a loud moan as he fills you up, your eyes tearing up as he stretching you out. “F-fuck you’re so tight Y/N”

“P-please Kat-suki move, I-I need more” That aching feeling returning to your core. 

“Ask and you shall receive” He pulls out of you and then slams back into you, only slowly moving at first before picking up his speed. His hips hitting your ass as he fill you out, every thrust making your knees week. All you wanted to do was run his hands through his hair, run them down his back, hold his arms, touch every inch of him, but his tie restricted you adding to your neediness. You whimper as his hand comes down on your ass, a warm sting traveling across your cheek.

“I-I’m getting cl-close, can I please t-touch you?” Barely able to form your sentence due to the pure pleasure overwhelming your body.

“I don’t know if a dirty slut like you deserves it” He lets out an almost animalist growl.

“I promise I’ll behave j-just P-PLEASE” the last part of your sentence coming out louder from him slamming into you hard and stopping.

“Well when you say it like that..” His hand moves to your wrists untying them while still giving you shallow thrusts. You aren’t even able to wrap your head around how he’s still able to keep up such a pace. You’re taken out of your trusts when he flips you over so you can now see his flushed face, hair sticking to his forehead as he stares into your eyes. You are quick to throw your hands into his hair and connect your lips. Tongues fighting for dominance as you pull on his hair at the nape of his neck making him let out a deep moan. He presses you back down against his desk and slams himself back into you. Now it was your turn to let out a moan. You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing his to get deeper in you.

“F-FUCK” He slams into your G-spot hard and you know that at this rate you wont last long. And by the way you clench around him, Katsuki knew that too.

“Oh you like it like that? Fuck- filling you up like this? You take me so well princess, it’s like your pussy is made just for me” He’s kissing your neck desperately wanting to hear you scream out his name.

“Ooh Katsuki I’m-” the intense heat building up in your core becoming almost to much.

“Cum for me baby girl” he purrs into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive neck. Hearing his deep voice say that sent you over board, Lightning shooting up from your toes to your core, spreading out from there. A loud moan leaves your mouth as euphoria rushes over your body. His trusts start to get sloppy watching you fall apart beneath him.

“F-fuck Y/N” He groans out your name as he comes undone as well, his seed spilling out into the condom, feeling the warmth through the thin plastic.

He pulls out of you as you both attempt to catch your breath. He leans down to you mouth giving you a kiss, much different from earlier sending butterflies to your stomach as you feel the passion in this kiss instead of just lust. He breaks the kiss to remove the piece of plastic and put on his clothes and you do the same. You start fixing your hair as you stand infront of where his desk is flustered by what just happened. You look up, your eyes meeting his crimson ones as he smiles at you. You return a shy smile back at him before looking toward the floor. He walks over to you and lifts your chin up with his finger. A smirk on his face as he says

“Your internship starts on Monday. Don’t be late.”

[demoneyesanddamagedsouls]

Sparring Partners

Chapter Two: Preparation

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on the first Chapter of this fic, I hope you enjoy this one just as much. I’m aiming to post a new chapter each week, not sure yet how many chapters this’ll have yet. Feedback and comments as always are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Slight Language, mentions of food and canon-typical violence

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CHAPTER TWO: Preparation

You both leave the conference room minds reeling from all the information that was just given to you.

As one of the younger agents at Statesman, being chosen as a potential candidate for Champ’s position was a real honour. It showed that Champ really thought highly of you and your skills. After 8 years of working as an agent, going on your fair share of dangerous and difficult missions, taking a bullet more than once, and now training the new recruits with Tequila, you knew you had worked your ass off to get where you were.  However, even with all this experience it paled in comparison to some of the more senior agents, some with 10 or more years under their belt. Hell, the person you were up against had been on the job for about 15 years, making a name for himself as one of the most fearsome agents that Statesman had to offer. You knew for a fact that Whiskey had been hoping for this position eventually, it had been something he mentioned to other agents that you heard in passing. At the top of his game and at the height of his career you realised, this cowboy was going to be one hell of a challenge to go up against.

Whiskey mulled over this new mission and Champ’s offer over and over in his mind. He wasn’t particularly surprised that Champ had propositioned him as a potential candidate for this position, he was one of the most senior agents at Statesman. Probably the closest in age to Champ and with the extensive experience he had it seemed rather obvious, but Vodka? You were still so young, in your mid 20’s the world was yet to break your spirit. Mind you, you had that bossy tone down packed. He chuckled to himself. He was hesitant to admit but you had a certain leadership quality that you didn’t see in most of the agents here. Most were contented to follow orders and carry out missions as asked, but you always had your own way of doing things, always taking the initiative. He supposed you had a fresh and young perspective that Champ must see as endearing. He however, found your constant need to take charge rather infuriating. You always seemed to think you knew best and even if you were correct, more often than not he was resigned to admit, it was still frustrating as you always seemed determined to show him up. He knew you were going to be a challenge, so determined to prove yourself, and a damned good agent to boot. Fuck this is going to be harder than he thought.

Both of you walking in the same direction out of the room, neither of you realising the other is turning to walk in the opposite direction. Both too caught up in your own thoughts you collide into each other your head smacking into Whiskeys chest. Quickly recoiling from the unintentional contact your rub your forehead with the palm of your hand. “Dammit Whiskey, watch where you’re going for Christ’s sake.”

“Well jeez Vodka how am I supposed to avoid you and that ego inflated head of yours?” He scoffed, eyeing you up and down.

You scowled at him, “You think I have a big ego? Have you looked in the mirror lately Whiskey? You and that cocky ass grin of yours have got a lot of nerve talking about my ego.” Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn and storm away from the narcissistic cowboy.

“If you liked my smile so much you should have just said so… sunshine.” He calls back to you as you walk away. You could practically hear the smirk in that smooth as silk southern accent.

What an absolute dick. He knew exactly what he was doing when he spoke to you like that. It infuriated you. The way his southern drawl echoed in your ears, his words dripping like honey, they way he called you those stupid little pet names. Everything about Whiskey drove you up the wall, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Fuckkkk…” You growled to yourself as you stormed into your office your heeled boots clicking angrily through the hall. Why does he always have to be so intensely irritating? You needed to get that stupid fucking smirk out of your head and get prepared for your new op. Slamming the door shut and sitting down, you start reclining in your office chair taking a deep breath and relaxing. Whiskey’s scent had lingered on your clothes creating a cloud around you after you had slammed into his chest. Inhaling the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood, a soft oaky smell, your breathing began to slow and calm. You would never tell him but that was one thing you did unfortunately enjoy about Whiskey. He always smelt good. Why did he always have to smell so damn good? Shaking your head to clear your mind of any remaining thoughts of Whiskey you leaned towards your desk and opened your laptop. This was going to be a long night…

***

Pushing the door closed with your heeled foot, you stepped into your apartment and sighed. You were exhausted. Checking your watch, you realised it was now 10 minutes past midnight. Swiftly moving to the bedroom, you flopped onto your bed groaning as you flipped yourself over and pulled off your boots, quickly changing into your pyjamas. Finally laying back down in bed you stared up at the ceiling running over the research you’d done over the course of the afternoon and evening, and the plan you had organised for tomorrow. You had spent the afternoon working, collecting copious amounts of information on CleanPlanet and the history of their company. It seemed that they were attempting to pass as an almost ‘mom and pop’ style family-owned business “Dedicated to the bettering of the planet and all the people who inhabited it.” What a load of rubbish. You had uncovered multiple articles from smaller news publications questioning the companies credibility, some families of recently passed away individuals even coming forward and accusing the company of foul play in the deaths of their relatives. CleanPlanet was owned and run by Howard Jacoby and his wife Constance, two very well-off socialites and academics who were every bit as snobby as they appeared in pictures. At least you wouldn’t be dealing with them directly thank goodness you hated dealing with high society types, that would be Whiskey’s issue.

There was a particular video that had caught your eye whilst combing through their internet presence, a TedTalk style video starring the one and only Howard Jacoby. He was speaking about how the planet was struggling with things like overpopulation and pollution, a speech which sounded eerily similar to Professor Arnold’s work, the man who had assisted Richmond Valentine and encouraged his plot to wipe out most of the planet. You shuddered at the thought. Either way you and Whiskey would get to the bottom of this. If the company and its owners were planning on anything like what Valentine had tried to execute then you needed to figure it out quickly. Deciding you’d brief Whiskey in the morning about your hunch, you set your alarm and curled up in your soft cotton sheets. Looking out your bedroom window at the twinkling of the city lights, your head sinking slowly into your pillow. You drift off into a restless sleep, anxious of what tomorrow would bring.

***

You arrived at Statesman the next morning rubbing your eyes. Your sleep had been restless, anxiety of the coming days keeping you from a comfortable evening. Pushing the door to your office open you hear a chipper voice behind you. “Well mornin’ Vodka. You ready for the op today?” You turned to see Whiskey standing in your office door frame, leaning his broad shoulder against it with a large smile plastered across his face.

Rolling your eyes at his unnecessarily wide grin, “And what’s gotten you in such a fabulous mood this morning?” You say with an exasperated sigh as you drop into your office chair with a small thud. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth his smile somehow grows larger as he pulls out the arm that was behind his back forward as he saunters into the room. Holding a large paper bag, which as soon as you spot the smell hits your nostrils. Fresh pancakes. You look at him with sudden excitement and surprise, your mood instantly lifted and the last feeling of tiredness leaving your body as you inhale deeply.

“I thought I’d bring us some breakfast to get us in the right headspace for today. I also thought we should probably trade what we found out yesterday during our research to make sure we’re both on the same page…”

“Oh, so this is a bribery breakfast huh?” You questioned as you drag your eyes away from the mouth-watering food on the desk in front of you, finally taking a proper look at Whiskey for the first time this morning. The first thing you notice is that he is not currently donning his regular black Stetson, a rather big change from his usual cowboy appearance. Instead, he was showing off his thick, brushed back hair, his wireframe Statesman issued glasses resting on his strong nose, obscuring his dark brown eyes. He was wearing a gorgeous grey checkered suit with a white dress shirt underneath, a casual yet striking look on his glowing tan complexion. It was a very nice change for the cowboy. He cleans up well, you thought. Your gaze flicks up and you notice Whiskey’s cocky grin once again. He must have thought you were eyeing him up, not that you weren’t but you weren’t about to let him know that. You roll your eyes at him trying to keep his knowing smile at bay. “So, what are you after then Whiskey?”

“Well sunshine, since you always seem to know everything, I thought I’d get your run down on things this morning before we both head out to our separate ops today.”

“Ahhhh there it is, the usual candour I’m used to from you cowboy. I was worried when you showed up this morning with a kind gesture that I wouldn’t be enjoying any of that snarky wit I have become so accustomed to.” You look down at your computer and notepad, focusing on the research notes you had made last night in somewhat of a delirious, fever dream state. “Alright let me have a look…” you trailed off.

Whiskey sits down across from you at your desk pulling the steaming pancakes out of the paper parcel you had brought this morning. Setting up the two meals Whiskey observes you, wearing a pair of simple black high waisted work pants tapering at your waist, a simple white blouse tucked into them, the buttons undone just low enough to show off your neck and the top of your chest. He darts his eyes back up to your face, so you don’t catch him staring, nose scrunched up in concentration under your matching Statesman glasses as you palm through your somewhat excessive amount of research notes. He lets out a light breath of amusement seeing you like this, confused but copiously prepared, it was a nice change of pace from your usual so certain self.

Looking back up from your notes as you find what you were looking for you see the small meal containers opened on the desk, filled with pancakes with a small pot of maple syrup on the side. Turning your focus back to Whiskey you begin to go through what information you’d gathered that you thought was pertinent to the both of you. You ran through the notes you had made, both of you working your way through breakfast, Whiskey chiming in occasionally with a mhmm and a nod here and there. “One thing that kept bugging me last night was that Ted Talk type video of Howard Jacoby… talking about the human race being a plague on the planet that needed to be cured so the earth could thrive again…”  you trial off as a look of concern crosses your face, “It was really eerie and reminded me a lot of that professor that assisted Richmond Valentine in his attempt to have the world turn on each other.”

“Well, it seems I missed that video, that sounds mighty concerning…” Whiskey trails off, leaning his elbow on the side of your desk slowly pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Wonder what their testing at those new hospital facilities of theirs then…” He turns to look at you, the same worry sparkling in his eyes.

“My hunch is that they must be testing something similar to what Valentine did, something that can affect extensive groups of people on a large scale. Something that would be easy to distribute and spread, but obviously more related to the medical profession because of the labs…”

“Maybe some sort of virus or infection?” He chimes in.

“Seems more than likely… I guess we’ll find out more today. Speaking of…” You glance down at your watch realising it was almost 8:30am. Still so early for your tired demeanour, but almost time for you to both be heading off. Ginger had organised a cover story for you last night and sent in for a ‘staff transfer’ so that you could get into the CleanPlanet facilities and gain access to the hospital quickly. You needed to get to the bottom of this puzzling situation fast, especially as it seemed to be becoming more concerning by the minute. “I think its time for us to head off.”

“Seems it is.” Whiskey nods and swiftly packs the remnants of breakfast back into the paper bag, throwing it into the bin beside your desk.

“So, you know what my, rather detailed I might add, plan is but you have yet to share how you plan on approaching this op.” A slight leer in your voice, aiming to provoke him. “Care to share… cowboy?”

“If you must know, Vodka,” he drawls, the civilised tone from earlier gone in a heartbeat as the two of you pick up your bags and make your way down the hallway to the elevator. “I will be posing as a one of multiple wealthy investors eager to take a tour of CleanPlanet’s new business acquisitions. A high society gentleman looking to expand my portfolio into areas I have true passion for you could say. As it so happens, it seems that Howard Jacoby is searching for some people who share his vision and have a healthy wallet.” His voice dripping in sarcasm, for this type of persona was so unlike himself. A charmer by nature his honeyed voice had made many a lady fall victim to a one-night stand, but a high society man he was not. Whiskey cleaned up well, but he was certainly a working-class gentleman with a love for simple living.

“Well, your certainly dressed the part.” You say as you eye up Whiskey admitting to yourself that he was pulling of the sleek look. You shake your head clearing your mind of the potential minute attraction forming, focusing once more on where you were going. Stepping into the elevator and tapping the basement level button, you continued. “You definitely look like a pretentious asshole.” You say, chuckling to yourself as the elevator started to move.

Suddenly Whiskey was directly in front of you looking you up and down. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been eyein’ me up little lady.” He says, voice velvety smooth. Pinned down by his gaze you suddenly feel cornered, claustrophobic in the small metal space. You feel your face begin to heat up with an incriminating red tint, uncertain whether it was from anger or something more primal, you quickly sidestep his imposing figure. The elevator dings and you swiftly exit the elevator, “You wish cowboy.” You respond, a quick exhale escaping your mouth as you calm your racing heartrate. Why was he trying to rile you up before such an important op? Why does he have to be such a cocky arse? Eyeing him up? He’s got to be kidding. He’s the absolute last person on the planet that you could ever be attracted to. He does nothing but irritate you. He may be attractive, you begrudgingly admit, but you certainly were NOT attracted to him.

You hear him chuckle behind you, “Did I touch a nerve there sunshine?” he drawls behind you as you both head towards the garage where Ginger would be waiting. Rolling your eyes in anger to yourself, you choose to ignore him. Responding would only make him continue.

Pushing the doors open to the garage you see Ginger talking to one of the mechanics. As she hears the doors swinging, she turns to you quirking her eyebrow, seeing you seething with annoyance. “Everything alright here agents?” She says, confusion evident in her tone.

“Fine Ginger,” your voice comes out strained attempting to mask your irritation, “So what have you got set up for us for the next few days?”

“For you Vodka I’ve organised this ID card so you will have access to the basic areas of the hospitals but there are higher clearance areas which I wasn’t able to duplicate. You’ll have to figure that out when it comes to it.” She hands you a small ID badge attached to a clip which you then hook onto the belt loop on your pants. “I’ve also got small earpieces for the two of you to keep in communication while inside the facilities. They’re undetectable but very effective so try not to scream while wearing them if you can.” She passes you both the tiny in ear tech piece.

“Thanks Ging.”

“Now for you Whiskey,” She pulls out a small wallet and a set of car keys, “Here’s a new wallet with your cover identity and some cash to show off of course.”

He chuckles to himself pulling out his new drivers’ licence, “Introducing Duke Silver!” He smiles and bows towards you and Ginger. You roll your eyes again, scoffing at his ridiculousness.

“And… If I can finish, Duke.” Ginger continues giving Whiskey an exaggerated frustrated look, “Here is your new automobile.” Handing him the keys she gestures to a car sitting behind her. A brilliant turquoise blue Shelby Cobra 427 with white racing stripes down the middle.

“Alright… Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Whiskey dashes over like an excited child to admire his new personas gorgeous ride.

As Whiskey admires his new toy you turn to Ginger, “What do I have the luxury of driving to ‘work’ then Ginger?”

Passing you the keys she gestures to the car behind Whiskey’s, a slightly beat-up silver Toyota Corolla. “Sorry hon, you unfortunately need to blend in as a semi-broke medical student.”

You sigh, clutching the keys in your hand. “Thanks Ging.” Walking over you pass Whiskey, still ogling his own ride, making your way to the new car you’d be enjoying for the next few days. A far cry from your own beautiful red Mustang you sighed once more. The two of you hop into your cars and adjust the inside to what you need, throwing your bags into the back seat. You look over at Whiskey and slump into your seat, incredibly jealous. “That looks like one fun car to drive…” you mutter to yourself, green with envy. “Lucky bastard.”

Whiskey revs his engine excitedly, “Thanks darlin!” He shouts to Ginger over the loud purr. Turning to you he winks, bringing your irritation back with full force. “Have fun at ‘work’ then sunshine. Talk to you later!” His voice ringing out across the concrete as he drives off, the garage doors opening as he takes off out of the facility.

“I guess I’m off too then, see you later Ginger!” You smile at her as you close your door, taking off after Whiskey ready to face whatever the day would bring.

*******************************************************************************************

Permanent Tags:

@hrk-fic-recs  @misslexilouwho  

[blushingbaka]

the weight of a question;

|| summary - tamaki isn’t sure what possessed him to meet with you, but he finds he doesn’t really mind your questions

pairing: tamaki x journalist! reader genre: fluff length: 2.4k

✰ a/n: ahhh this literally has no right being this long... i was just kinda in my tamaki feels, and my brain decided to produce this lolol. the important takeaway here is that tamaki is a precious flower that deserves all the love and appreciation <3

Every second that Tamaki stared at that little red blinking light, his anxiety seemed to increase. He was all too aware of the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and his hands seemed permanently latched onto his thighs. Despite the mocking presence of the voice recorder, it was much easier to look at than the eyes of the person in front of him. As a hero, Tamaki has begrudgingly accepted the human interaction that comes along with it, but he’s never been one to engage in it when it’s unnecessary. This situation should have been avoidable, so the painful knot in his stomach seemed to ask why he’s here.

“Suneater-sama?” your melodious voice caused his ears to twitch and the grip on his thighs to tighten. You’re the reason he’s here. He’s ignored several requests for interviews before, so he can’t quite figure out why he accepted yours. Maybe you have some kind of persuasion quirk? No that’s ridiculous. He shook his head trying to rid himself of these useless thoughts.

“Uh Tamaki is fine” he managed to force out. Hearing you use his hero name made this whole interaction seem more formal, and that only increased his nerves. He willed himself to glance up at your face. Your lips stretched into a wide smile, but he couldn't bring himself to look directly into your eyes.

“Okay, Tamaki-san” his name seemed to fall out of your lips so easily, and his heart jumped inside his chest. He wasn’t sure which name had less effect on his nerves. He’s glad now that you offered to meet him in a cafe. It’s not loud enough to be disruptive, but the quiet chatter of those around you makes it easier to not be so flustered in your presence.

“How about we start with something easy?” You hummed glancing down at your notebook. You mindlessly took the tip of your pen between your teeth, brows furrowing, and Tamaki felt warmth rush to his cheeks.

“When did you decide you wanted to be a hero?” You rested your elbow on the table, palm cradling your cheek. Your attention was now fully on him rather than your notebook, and his tongue suddenly felt heavy in his mouth.

“Ever since elementary school I guess” he muttered, but remembering the voice recorder he realized he should speak louder. It would be embarrassing if you called him claiming you couldn’t make out any of his words, and then he might feel obligated to do this whole awkward ordeal over again.

“Yeah in elementary school.” He said again firmer and even leaned up a bit.

“Oh, wow” you leaned forward as if your curiosity was piqued, and he wondered then if he looked into your eyes if it lingered there as well. “At that age were you already thinking about how you could use your quirk as a hero?” There’s a genuine interest in your voice, and Tamaki felt his shoulders relax a bit. If someone was listening in, they might have thought this was a casual conversation between friends and not some romanticized interrogation. Your presence still prickled his nerves, but your voice was almost comforting. So a little bit more relaxed he was able to recount his childhood dream of becoming a hero and the small fantasies he entertained about what his future self would look like.

“I kind of had ridiculous expectations though. I think I would… I mean my younger self… would probably be a bit disappointed” he chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“You think so?” You asked incredulously. “You went to the best hero academy in the country, where you were also known as one of ’The Big 3.’ Even as an intern in high school, you did pro-level hero work.” Tamaki’s eyes widened, surprised by your resolute tone.

“Well, Mirio was always the epitome of what a hero should be” Tamaki anxiously shuffled his feet, trying to dismiss your earlier statements. He half expected you, being a journalist, to push your point further, but you relaxed back in your seat, hand still cupping your cheek.

“Mirio... that was the childhood friend you mentioned earlier. You two kind of took your hero journey together, no?” You had a small smile on your face like you knew this was something he could easily talk about. He realized this assumption was correct as the words now flowed easier. He hardly fumbled over his words as he explained how hard Mirio worked in his quirk training, how positive he always was, the pillar he was to people, and how he actually gave Tamaki his hero name.

A feeling of satisfaction leaked into Tamaki when he accidentally caught your eyes and saw the sparkle of realization in them. “So that’s where Suneater comes from!” You wore a gleeful smile, and Tamaki felt his heart squeeze. He supposed it was your facial expressions that led him to accept your request for an interview. Tamaki often avoided looking at peoples’ faces, finding their expectant expressions daunting, but something about yours was endearing to him.

When you had approached him on patrol, he had pulled his hood a little lower, but you had tilted your head cutely to the side to find his eyes, resembling a puppy. You had smiled so brightly when you greeted him that he could hardly comprehend the words you were saying. It was only when you said the word ’interview’ that he realized you were using him to get in contact with Fat Gum or the popular intern Red Riot. He had been so confused when you insisted you wanted to interview him, and the hopeful glimmer in your eyes just somehow left him dazed. If it wasn’t for the piece of paper you had handed him with the cafe’s name and meeting time, he wouldn’t have even believed he agreed to it.

“I still don’t really get it” he found himself mumbling out loud. His stomach flipped when you do that adorable head tilt again, wrinkles forming in between your brows.

“Get what?” Your voice was soft and curious.

“You said you wanted a story about a rookie hero that will inspire the next generation, but I can think of several others that would serve that purpose better than me” faces flitted through his mind. Faces that inspired smiles and adoration wherever they go. Tamaki Amajiki didn’t think his face belonged with theirs’.

This time you leaned forward on both elbows, interlacing your fingers. You brought your hands up to your face gently pressing your index fingers to lips, which were slightly puckered in thought.

“I guess to me, you were the obvious option” your words came out slow like you were carefully thinking about what to say. He doesn’t mean to, but he instinctively let out a huff of disbelief. Your face didn't falter however and you continued speaking.

“I mean no one can doubt your amazing skills” you chuckle. “But there’s more to it than that. Despite the fear of inadequacy and failure you must feel inside, you approach every situation with calmness and resolve. I think that your presence makes citizens feel secure, and I think your insatiable desire for perfection can inspire future heroes.” your eyes were previously trained on the ceiling, but fell back to his, crinkling in a smile. “Mirio was right, you know? You are bigger than the sun, and people can’t help but notice you and feel awed by your presence”

Tamaki was so shaken by your words, he just stared at you, frozen in his seat. “You… you’re delusional” he finally coughed out, fighting the desire to cover his ears, which were undoubtedly red at the tips. He adverted his eyes, but in a few seconds, they were back on you, hearing you release a throaty, genuine laugh.

“You’re really stubborn Tamaki-san” you giggled, amusement laced heavy with your tone. “Don’t you hear how many people cheer your name?” Tamaki didn’t understand why you were so insistent on convincing him of his own greatness, but he did know if this conversation continued, he would get so flustered he wouldn’t be able to form a single word, much less a coherent thought.

“Don’t you have another question?” His voice came off harsher than he had meant it to, and he glanced up to spill out an apology, but your smile was still as wide as ever.

“Of course. Why don’t you tell me why you first decided to intern with Fat Gum?” you switched the topic with ease, and eventually, Tamaki found himself relaxing again.

It wasn’t until the soft golden glow of sunset settled over your features that Tamaki realized how long he had been talking to you. You had wrapped things up, however, and was now packing up your things, your conversation no longer being recorded.

“Thank you again for meeting me! I hope I didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable. I really just find you amazing, and I think it’s a shame you hide yourself in the shadows.” For the first time, it’s you who looked nervous, fingers toying with a napkin, and eyes cast downward. A warmness filled Tamaki, and he smiled fondly at you, even though you didn’t see that.

“Of course I’ll send you the article before I publish it. That way you and your PR agent can make sure it’s satisfactory. My agency has contact with Fat Gum’s so I’ll be able to get it to you that way.” your shyness evaporated, and Tamaki realized how strange it was to hear your professional tone. You had seemed so comfortable talking to him all afternoon, and Tamaki found himself forgetting the purpose of your chat. A feeling of dread fills him when he realized this may be the last time he talks to you. You were simply doing your job after all, but why is he disappointed now that he didn’t ask you any questions?

As you both stood up, Tamaki couldn't stand the thought of a farewell leaving your lips so he clenched his fist in an attempt to extinguish the doubt that weighed down heavy on him.

“Maybe I should still give you my phone number in case you have any more questions?” if he could find the courage to say those words, he could find the courage to see your reaction, so he forced himself to look you in the eyes as he spoke. Your eyes widened, and your mouth opened only to close again. Tamaki was scared his gaze was too intense because you looked down, fingers nervously toying with the strap of your bag, but a small smile worked its way onto your face.

“You better be careful opening that door Tamaki-san. I’m too curious for my own good, and might start asking you selfish questions” you teased, eyes glancing back up to meet his. You chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for his response, and Tamaki’s stomach flipped at the small action. He wanted to see more of your facial expressions. Next time you talked, he promised himself he would make a conscious effort to look into your eyes. He didn’t want to miss any emotion that flitted across them.

“I’ll allow yours if you allow mine” he bravely declared, and a smile tugged at his lips as he relished in the jubilant expression his words elicited from you.

-----------

The sight of your wide expressive eyes became something Tamaki would look forward to, and he never would have guessed there would come a day when he would stare into them so closely, his own forehead touching yours.

“Good morning” you lazily interlaced your fingers with his, a soft smile on your lips. He intertwined his legs with yours and pulled you closer with the hand that rested on your hip. He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips not sure he would ever get his fill of you.

“Morning” he replied huskily, sleep still coating his voice. Neither of you made an effort to move, contently basking in one another’s presence. Tamaki felt so at ease with you, and his words hardly had any time to weigh on his mind before they slipped out to you.

“I have a question.” He whispered, nose brushing against yours.

“Okay... there’s no reason to be shy now” you teased lightly. Your hands moved to the nape of his neck, your fingers instinctively playing with the tips of his hair. Your soothing actions stoked a warmness in him that he had become addicted to. This question should weigh heavier than any other he’s voiced before, but he knows he had a much harder time asking you where you wanted to eat on your first date. So much has happened since then, and it still wasn’t enough.

“Will you marry me?” There is no falter in his voice or hesitation, and your surprised expression stirred pleasant nostalgia in him. Your eyes were wide, and you opened your mouth before closing it again at a loss for words. It was just like your expression that day in the cafe.

“Tama are you serious?” You still stared at him in disbelief, sleepiness long gone from your features. There was a glimmer of hope in your eyes that Tamaki found himself drinking in gleefully.

“My questions typically are” he assured you rubbing a circle into your hip. A delighted noise escaped your mouth and you pulled him impossibly close chanting the word yes into his neck. Now of all times is when Tamaki’s embarrassment kicked in.

“I didn’t really mean to ask you this way. I had a whole dinner planned for us later this week, and Mirio is keeping the ring until then, but it just slipped out. Gosh, you really deserved a better proposal than this. It’s not roman-“ but his nervous rambling was cut off by your lips firmly pressing against his. When you pull back, Tamaki could see that your eyes were swimming with tears and adoration. You gently cupped his cheek, swiping your thumb across his cheekbone, and he leaned into your touch.

“It’s fine Tama. It was perfect actually.” He rolled his eyes at your statement, eliciting a chuckle from you. You pressed a quick peck to his nose before settling comfortably back into his arms, your head resting against his chest.

“Don’t be so stubborn. I said yes didn’t I?” You planted another kiss to his collarbone. In response to your question, he simply hugged your form tighter and pressed a swift kiss to the crown of your head. Yes, you did say yes, and a feeling of warm content washed back over him.

[starsword-library]

The monster said their master awaited in a chamber deeper into the cave, so Verona went ahead in the given direction. It was frankly, a boring investigation so far. The so-called graveyard didn't actually have graves or any sign of ancient civilization, at least not where Verona could see it. Perhaps those were hidden deep under the dark waters that surrounded the pathways she walked on. Not that she cared, it was actually better to go through just a boring cave instead of some creepy ghost town.

What truly mattered is that the huge gate at the end of the path was very out of place. It was intricate metalwork, where she hadn't seen a scrap of metal so far, and decorated with art in relief. While her vision was good enough in the dark, she picked up a glowing rock under her feet to illuminate and examine the details.

The bottom seemed to depict people, perhaps an army given their weapons and armors. There weren't many features to try and determine their species, though it stood out to Verona that they didn't have fins nor tentacles nor any features common in the aquatic people of the planet. Much like Verona herself they had only two arms and two legs, and something like hair, but no ears atop their heads, not to mention warlions would never depict warriors like that, all that equipment was dishonorable to them. Yet here one of the soldiers' weapons was the centerpiece, so big it was likely represented out of scale.

It was an odd weapon, like a spear, with several sharp ends instead of only one, spreading out in different directions. It was raised above the soldier's head, against... something. It was massive and Verona couldn't make out much of the shape, only that it had claws or tendrils or whatever those sharp things were turned against the army, so it was likely their enemy. From where the odd spear pierced it ran a crack, farther and farther up to the top of the gate, so high Verona couldn't see, tearing the enemy's image in half.

The chaotic shape of the crack was much like a lightning bolt, which got Verona's attention. Was that really a spear, or a lightning rod? She had no idea what a lightning rod even looked like, but they had come here to investigate a myth about thunderstorms, so it would be promising if the scene depicted was related.

Unfortunately that was as far as her thoughts went, she had no clue what that image was trying to tell. She almost wished Chrys was there, they were the artsy one who knew how to interpret stuff. At the same time Chrys was a rod of all kinds of trouble so she was glad they agreed to stay where it's safe this time.

...As she thought that, she turned to take a good look around and confirm they hadn't sneaked in after all. With friends like that who needs to be wary of enemies. But the cave looked as empty as always. Well, Cheryl was probably watching over her, but Verona had no hope of besting her stealth skills, and it was her actual job. If that master monster (monster master? whatever) stood past this gate, it was they likely hoped to trap her within the chamber as soon as she came in. She had to believe Cheryl would find a way to get past that and back her up.

Done with the observation, she took a step forward and attempted to open the gate. It was heavy and felt stuck for a moment, before sliding to the sides slowly, and to her surprise flooding the cave with light much brighter than the glowing rocks around.

The chamber was a well-lit room, white lights on in the high ceiling behind transparent panels. The floor was still made of the same round dark blue stones, though their glow was dimmer, while the walls and ceiling were a mix of rectangular slabs of the same material, golden metals panels and the occasional tube or wire twisted in weird directions. There were also several golden pillars in that same supposedly-a-lightning-rod shape spread evenly through the room, and in the center of it was...

Not a monster, but a nightmare and a ghost.

A little sister, looking just the same as when Verona last saw her.

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