#the way he has a hand on the back of Tails' left & his back

[sai-int]

fwb!simon, reader catches feelings- NO. FWB!SIMON BUT SIMON CATCHES FEELINGS.

it's quite simple.

simon comes home from a mission, he's restless, twitching, pacing, can't figure out what to do with his hands.

so what does he do? he knocks on your door, waiting anxiously until you open it and he's scooping you up, hauling you across the hall and into his basically empty apartment, and fucking you into the mattress for the night.

and you're just so good at taking it—whatever he gives you and whenever he gives it. you cry, whine, beg and plead for his cock in all the ways you know how—until you go blue in the face—and simon fucking revels in it. he's all harsh words and degrading names, calling you a filthy slut, his cocksleeve, a fucking cumdump—you name it, he's probably said it.

it's perfect, until it's not.

he's spent months fucking you stupid, night after night. he fucks you even when he's not restless. he fucks you when he's bored, when he's lonely. especially when he's lonely.

simon riley's a gridlocked man. hardly anything ever gets past him, but it didn't take many rendezvous between your thighs for him to forget that.

his mask would come fully off—not just above his lips—and you'd still kiss him breathless, still scream his name until your throat went hoarse. you weren't afraid of everything underneath. if anything, you liked it.

It's not like the both of you frequently exchanged actual conversations, but he could tell by the way you dripped and soaked his sheets even more than you ever had.

after that, he even began to gather enough courtesy to let you get some rest after he fucks you, letting you stay wrapped in his sheets for whatever sliver of the night was left.

you never pushed, and that's what he liked most about you. you always went by his terms because you never really cared as long as you got fucked six ways from sunday.

so, you always left when he woke without a problem. that was the arrangement and you were more than fine with getting a good fuck only a few steps away from your own home.

then even you began to notice the shift.

simon could never fuck you badly, per se. but he began to fuck you more softly. tenderly, as if he was suddenly aware that humans shouldn't be bent in half as long he's had you pinned underneath him in the past. he'll rock his hips into you with similar fervor, but he'd caress you, rather than grab at you. hold your forehead to his, rather than choke you with his thick hands.

then came the praise. god, it's like fucking a completely different man. from one week to the next, you're no longer a slut or a hole, you're pretty girl and angel. it makes your head spin. you try to pinpoint the change and why it happened, but you can't. somehow, you cum twice as hard now.

it all came to an ugly head when he spent the better part of 2 hours between your thighs, moaning and groaning as if you were doing him a service.

now, you weren't going to complain, but love just wasn't in the cards for you right now, and the looks simon was giving you from where he lapped at your cunt were filled with adoration, like he was waiting for you to tell him how good he was doing.

hell, you could see a phantom tail wagging each time his eyes met your own. and after a session that felt more like making love than an explosion of pure lust, you could feel his eyes lingering on you as you slipped your panties back on.

"what?" you hum, not wanting to face him in fear you'd see that godforsaken look in his eyes again.

and you were right, because he's staring at you like he's about to drop to one knee. "nothin'."

you toss your shirt back over your head and steel yourself as you turn to face him.

"simon," you start and he's already hanging on your words, "what's going on with you lately? i don't mean to sound rude but—"

this is it, he thinks. it has to be now, or nothing will change. he's not a religious man, but if he's ever prayed to god for anything, it's for this to become something real.

"'m in love with ya."

one blink, then two. two to three, three to four. you stare at him as you try to piece together what he's saying.

"simon, i don't think you understand—"

"—i do. i do understand and i want ya, bad. so bad, i can't even stop thinkin' bout ya, sweetheart. even when y'not 'ere im thinkin' about ya. everything about y'is perfect, and i don't think i can function without y'with me."

this is the most emotion you've ever seen out of simon and it rocks you to your core. if you didn't know better—and if the lighting wasn't so dim—you'd think he was tearing up.

you didn't know how to break it to him.

[fledgedragonfox]

Token*

You were summoned to a fantasy world. As you are eager to begin your new life as the hero, the summoner explains: "Actually, our party already has one. In fact, you're only here because we need a human member in order for us to be officially recognized as a hero's party."

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

Pre-slash CW: Depressive thoughts, Panic attacks.

Masterpost

"Actually, our party already has one. In fact, you're only here because we need a human member in order for us to be officially recognized as a hero's party." The startlingly tall bird-thing said in an embarrassed tone, his hands(?) wringing the fringes of his robes. Max, standing in his oversized pajamas in the center of a gigantic summoning circle, surrounded by fantastical beings in armor and robes, felt his heart sink. 

All his life he'd felt utterly useless. He’d lost more jobs than he could count, all because of his health. He’d never had a decent relationship, never achieved anything great. Then he felt warmth and light envelop him. He felt himself falling and flying through the space between the worlds. Like being gently led through a waterfall. Then there was the circle, glowing in every color he could imagine. Standing around the circle were a group of fantastical beings. 

There was the bird creature with feathers like a peacock’s. He wore shimmering iridescent robes and held an open book in one hand (Yeah we’re gonna go with hand) glowing the same colors as the circle. To his left was a slender man with a stylized fox mask and nine flaming tails cascading out behind him. On a second glance, Max couldn’t quite tell if what he was seeing really was a mask or not. Then there was a very large man, standing taller than anyone Max had ever seen. His skin was grey and covered in runic scars and tattoos. His eyes glowed a faint blue as he studied Max. 

To the bird’s right was a creature that looked almost human. If not for his long black fingers and too wide smile. He sported an ample belly and stark white hair. Finally the fifth member of their group wore blinding golden armor and stood only a little shorter than the grey man. His skin, what little showed, was covered in deep purple scales. A long reptilian tail swayed back and forth behind him. It only barely disturbed the crimson cape that hung mostly from his left pauldron. He wore no helmet, so his draconic face and ocher eyes were on full display. As was his beaming smile of dangerously sharp fangs. 

“This is really happening…” Max muttered as his bare feet touched the cold stone beneath him. “I’m gonna be a hero!” That’s when the smiles faded and the awkward glances and whistling had started. Then the bird broke the news. They stood in their semi circle around the spot Max had been summoned, and Max stood in his summoning spot, swaying ever so slightly. “What…?” Max whimpered. He hadn’t realized how broken he would sound. But the way they winced told him everything. The bird tried to perform damage control. 

“Well, you see.” He began, fiddling with his book as he spoke, “On this continent every adventuring party has to have at least one human. Usually it’s pretty easy to do that, but our hero is a draconian, and no human from this world would even entertain the idea.” He took a breath, his rambling cut sort by the clawed man. 

“It ain’t too big a deal, an we asked bird brain to find someone who would have a halfway decent ability.” He shrugged with a smile that Max thought was supposed to be comforting. Max was dumbstruck. He felt himself plop onto the ground as his knees gave out, too numb to care. They were arguing with each other, he could hear it. He didn’t look up from the runes to see. There wasn’t really a point. He could faintly feel his body protesting at his treatment of it, which wasn't that just another joy. So caught up in jubilation, he’d forgotten for a moment why he’d been in bed in the first place. Even being summoned to another world wouldn't help that it seemed. 

What would this party do when they realized he was useless? Would they just toss him aside and find some new human to fulfil whatever asinine rule this was? How was he going to survive here on his own? He’d watched enough anime to know how this works. There was no going back for him, he was stuck here. How long would it take these bonafide adventurers to realize that he was just going to slow them down? One of them was even an actual hero, which apparently was just a thing you could be here. Would they just kill him? What about… and what if.. And when the.. And.. but… 

“Breathe.” A rumbling voice broke through the static. It reverberated through his mind and loosened the chokehold his panic had gained on his lungs. “In” the voice commanded, and Max complied, letting freezing cold air into his lungs. It smelled stale, but the scent of spices hung in the air around him too. He held it, waiting. “Out.” The figure beside him said. He let a shaky breath out. Feeling settled back into his limbs slowly. There was an arm at his back, a hand on his shoulder and another on his chest. “In” the figure said, and Max breathed in. “out” and he complied. 

He wasn’t sure how long that went on. They’d stopped arguing. Max beaked through his tangled mess of hair to see four out of five of the group looking at him anxiously. He turned his head slightly only to find the dragon man ( the draconian… the hero) carefully supporting him. His cape was getting dirty. 

“There we go,” his voice reverberated through Max’s body “you’re alright.” He reached into a small pouch on his hip and produced a piece of jerky, offering it to Max. He took it with shaky hands and tried to nibble on one corner. “Let’s go somewhere a little more cheery, then we can try this again.” He said, shooting the last part to the rest of his party who flinched as a group. 

Max barely paid attention as he was helped to his feet and let somewhere brighter. It took him far too long to realize that they were outside. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there were two suns in the sky. He was sat on a long, with a blanket thrown over it. The fox-man drew a sigil in the air and created a bonfire from nothing. The grey skinned man was sharpening an impossibly large blade while the clawed man prepared some sort of stew. The rest of the party settled themselves as what seemed to be lunch cooked. The hero sat down on the ground right in front of the log he’d sat Max down on.

“Alright, now how about we introduce ourselves without sending anyone into a panic attack.” He said pointedly. He turned to Max, looking up at the human with a kind smile. “My name is Ardent, I’m a draconian and my class is Hero.” He turned to fox-mask and motioned for him to speak. 

“My common name is Shi.” He said, his mask moving like it was part of his face. “I am from the elf kingdom, and I have trained in the art of pyromancy.” 

“Yo!” the man still carefully preparing stew called out. His grin was filled with oversized sharp teeth. “Name’s Marrow. Ah’m a shade assassin!” He loudly slurped from a small bowl before tossing a handful of herbs into the pot. The grey man grunted as he continued to sharpen his blade. Glancing to Marrow expectantly. The shade happily slurped from his bowl again, sighing contentedly before responding. “That’s Rodus, he’s still learnin’ common. He’s a giant barbarian.” He said, passing a large wooden bowl over to Max. Max sipped it tentatively, before gulping half of it down. The flavors were intense and wonderful, like nothing he’d ever tasted before. After he’d collected himself, he looked to the last member of the group. The peacock was studying his leather-bound tome with laser focus. 

“Hey, your highness!” Ardent called, tossing a bread roll at him. The bird squealed in surprise, flailing all six of his limbs as he tried and failed to catch it. Max couldn’t help snorting in surprise as the peacock’s feathers puffed up in indignation. 

“Would you stop that!” He cried, brandishing the book, “I’m trying to figure out how we can test the cu.. I mean, the human’s, skills!” His feathers puffed up again as he spoke, clearly frazzled. Ardent snickered as the bread roll bounced off his shoulder where the bird had thrown it. He turned to look at Max, still stifling his laughter. 

“That’s our resident magician, Rahdur…”

“Prince…” Rahdur interrupted in a distracted tone as he read.

“Right, right, Prince Rahdur of the Eastern Aarakocra.” Ardent amended, “don’t worry too much about that part, he only makes me use his proper title because I dyed his feathers yellow during a ball a few years ago.” The draconian whispered conspiratorially. 

“I still think you should have gone with red.” Shi said as he sipped his stew,  “We could have matched.” The elf caught the bread roll that Rahdur hurled at him with grace and dipped it into his bowl of stew. Seeing them all interacting like this, Max felt himself becoming calmer and calmer. Ardent glanced at him and gave him the same beaming smile he’d had at the summoning. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. Those thoughts you were having were dangerously dark.” He said. Max’s eyes widened in surprise, but before he could speak Ardent held up a clawed hand. “Don’t worry, I can’t read your mind. My skill is called Empath, it lets me sense the type of thoughts someone is having, and their emotions when I focus.” 

“So this really is like an anime,” Max said, mostly to himself, “everyone has a skill of some kind?” 

“Indeed,” Shi said, “Usually it is reliant on species or class in some cases, but summons are always a bit of a wild card.” 

“But don worry little guy, Rahdur made sure to do some specific summoning to bring you here. Whatever your skill is, it’ll be perfect for us.” Marrow chortled. Max looked down at his still bare feet, now stained and muddied by the ground. Ardent’s clawed hand moved to his shoulder again, his ochre eyes shining in the sunlight, but looking unbelievably sad. 

“Hey,” he soothed, “no more bad thoughts. We summoned you, you’re part of the party now. You can talk to us.” For some reason, despite his thoughts and history of self perceived failure, Max believed him. He looked to Rahdur hesitantly, taking in the arakocra’s concerned expression. 

“I think… your spell went wrong.” Max said haltingly. “I know you just need a human, but you probably couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Max rubbed his aching arms, glancing down at his scrawny form hidden under baggy clothes. “I’m… not well. I’d understand if you just wanted to try the summoning spell again.” He finished with a smile that refused to reach his eyes. They exchanged distraught glances with each other before Rodus rose suddenly. He buried his gargantuan blade into the soil and strode over in two wide steps. The giant knelt and took Max’s face in two of his fingers to look into the human’s eyes. 

“We know.” He rumbled in a voice that Max could have sworn shook the ground. Max was… more than confused. There really wasn’t a word for it. Confusion was simply the closest thing he could think of. Ardent, like the hero he was, came to his rescue. Sitting beside Max and upping an arm around his shoulders. Wordlessly, Rodus moved away and back to his spot, glancing back as he did. 

“We don’t want to overwhelm you, but we knew who we were summoning.” Ardent said. “Getting you here was really killing two… no maybe closer to five birds with one stone. “ Another indignant squawk from Rahdur was ignored as Ardent continued. “Some of it isn’t really our place to say, but just know that we summoned you knowing that you aren’t fully abled. We have a spot ready for you in the caravan, and we aren’t going to abandon you.” Max was crying, he knew he was. But he couldn’t stop. 

“I’m… You wanted… me?” He hiccupped. He looked around the campsite only to be met with genuine smiles and nods of approval. Maybe. Just maybe, this could be home.

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

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You were summoned to a fantasy world. As you are eager to begin your new life as the hero, the summoner explains: "Actually, our party already has one. In fact, you're only here because we need a human member in order for us to be officially recognized as a hero's party."

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (ix)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, groups of people that believe in the paranormal

A/N: im sorry i disappeared i am employed now and also i am depressed. anyway pls lemme know what u guys think i love reading comments and screaming and everything you have to say MWAH. next one is a big one boys

Previous part || Series masterlist

Bucky wakes up to a weary, bone-deep sense of dread.

Not the kind of dread that means a sniper is lurking outside his window. No, this is a very specific kind of dread that sets in suddenly, altogether at once.

He knows exactly what it means. 

You are about to ruin his day.

His eyes flicker open, adjusting to the light filtering through his windows. 

The floor is quiet. Too quiet, almost. 

Alpine is curled on the windowsill, tail flicking idly. But he finds her staring at him already with mild judgment, as if she knows exactly what’s about to happen.

Bucky rubs a hand down his face, exhaling. He doesn’t know why he feels like this, because you’d taken to simply texting him the location these days, and then banging on his door. 

It was routine. He’d come to expect it. Like it, even, the way someone likes mundane sounds such as the buzz of the microwave heating up their lunch everyday. 

Except there’s a sudden, loud slam against his window.

Alpine launches off the windowsill, scrambling away with a hiss. 

Bucky is out of bed before his brain catches up. Years of instinct launch him into motion as he grips the knife under his pillow, pivots toward the sound– 

And sees you.

Hovering. Three stories up.

Waving.

Bucky full-body recoils and it takes everything in him not to launch his fucking knife at the window. 

He glares at you, barely awake, trying to process the absolute absurdity of this moment.

You tap your wrist like a watch, mouthing, "Video shoot."

Bucky turns around and launches a pillow at the window, furiously mouthing back, “I hope you fall.”

You grin.

His furiousness turns to raging annoyance at best. Which, in turn, makes him angry again. 

Just as he’s about to throw something heavier, FRIDAY dims the window until you fade from view. He doesn’t know who FRIDAY is protecting. 

Bucky collapses back onto his mattress.

He contemplates ignoring you again, but experience has taught him that only makes things worse.

Five minutes later, he’s stomping down the stairs. 

Bucky yanks open the car door and slides into the passenger seat.

Wordlessly, he shoves a coffee in your direction.

You blink at it. “How do you know my coffee order?”

Bucky grunts. “Do you want it or not?”

You take it, narrowing your eyes as you watch him chug it like it’s water. “Coffee doesn’t even work on you. Why do you drink it?”

He pauses mid-sip.

You tilt your head. "Do you even like the taste?"

Bucky slowly stares at the coffee like it personally wronged him, because no, he’s coming to realise that didn’t really like it. 

“…No,” he allows slowly. 

“Then why are you drinking it?”

His grip tightens around the cup. He doesn’t have a good answer, so he doesn’t look at you.

“Bought it,” he grumbles. ‘M gonna drink it.” 

“Sunken cost fallacy, right there,” you hum. “You bought it, so now you have to suffer through it. That’s a weird thing you do, y'know.”

Bucky exhales sharply, already done with this conversation. “It’s just coffee.”

“It’s just coffee,” you agree, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “And you just can’t let yourself pick something else. You a glutton for punishment?”

He scowls, taking another sip of the stupid beverage he didnt expect to be having a crisis over in the evening. 

"Whole world of warm drinks out there, Barnes. You ever tried chai? A matcha? You could be a matcha guy."

"No."

"You could be drinking hot chocolate. I think you'd like that. Marshmallows and everything.”

Bucky grips his cup harder.

"Hell, even warm lemonade would be a better choice."

Bucky scrunches his nose at the thought of warm lemonade and chugs his coffee out of spite.

You shake your head. “Whatever. Drink your hot bean water then.”

Silence stretches. The car hums down the highway. The weight of whatever he’s been avoiding lingers in the air between you.

Only five minutes later does it occur to him to ask.

“Where are we going?”

You shoot him a wide smile. “To make you some friends.”

Bucky closes his eyes. “I have friends.”

“You have Sam. And Steve.”

“Sam and Steve are enough.”

“Sam and Steve are legally obligated to be your friends.”

Bucky side-eyes you. “That’s not how friendship works.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Is this another haunted house? ‘Cause if it is, I'm staying in the car."

"No haunted house."

"Then what?"

You drum your fingers on the wheel. "We're going to check out the fastest-growing paranormal club in the city."

Bucky exhales through his nose, mentally preparing himself. 

"What’s the scam?" he deadpans.

"No scam." You pause. "Well, maybe a little scam. But I’m choosing to believe in the inherent goodness of humanity."

Bucky glances at you. “What kind of scam?”

“Maybe you’ll find yourself today, y’know? Maybe you’ll even be a treasured member of this club.” 

Bucky leans all the way back in his seat, shutting his eyes before he has an aneurysm. 

The location is exactly as sketchy as Bucky expected.

Which, to be clear, is very. 

A run-down community center at the edge of the city, sandwiched between a failing laundromat and a storage facility that definitely has bodies in it. 

The parking lot has three cars, two of which are missing doors. The third is a white van with no plates.

Bucky stares at it. “I’m staying in the car.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You can get your organs harvested. I’m not in the mood for that today.”

“We are not getting our organs harvested.” 

“We are about to walk into a situation that requires a white van with no plates.”

You tap the steering wheel. “You’re focusing on the wrong details.”

“Oh? What fuckin’ details should I be focusing on?”

You refuse to make eye contact. “I will not be taking questions at this time.”

A sign by the door says:

WELCOME, SEEKERS OF THE TRUTH.

Bucky points at it. “What the fuck is that?”

“They’re just seekers, Buck.” You unbuckle. “They’re seeking. Let them seek.”

“That’s not what that means.”

“They have over five hundred members in their Facebook group.”

Bucky rubs a hand down his face. “The Boogeyman fan club has eight thousand, so what?”

“Okay, but to be fair— Boogeyman’s hot.”

Bucky stares at you.

You stare back, unblinking.

“Do you want me to respond to that?”

“Only if you agree.”

Bucky inhales slowly, counting to ten.

Still, he gets out of the car. Because he always does.

The guy at the door looks exactly like someone who would be enthusiastic about this kind of thing. Whatever it was. 

Late twenties, cargo pants, black t-shirt, and… a cape. He stands in the doorway like he’s personally responsible for deciding who gets to know the truth.

Bucky is already exhausted.

You, however, are delighted.

“Hi!” you chirp, walking up to him. “We’re The Gra–”

Instead, the guy squints. “Hold on. I know you. You’re from TV.”

“Uh, yeah, he is–” you glance at Bucky, who glares at you for throwing him under the bus, but it’s not like you had been set up for interviews just yet or had any major public saves like the Battle of Earth. You operated on a scale similar to Spiderman until now. The Avengers were really just your first big corporate job. 

“No, I recognise you,” he looks pointedly at Bucky, before narrowing his eyes. “You got no reason to be out here–”

A few years ago Bucky’s shoulders would have tensed immediately, already bracing for the inevitable Winter Soldier comment.  

“Hey now,” you force a smile onto your face. 

“--showing your face in public,” the guy continues, gearing up. 

“Okay,” Bucky says, because he’s dealt with enough of public vitriol to really have it faze him anymore.

You prepare to take a step in front of him, body stiff. “Now let’s not get–”

“After breaking her heart like that? Shame on you.”

Bucky blinks. You also blink, steps halting.

“I’m sorry, whose heart?” he asks, looking between you and the guy.

The guy snaps his fingers.  "You're the one on that show. Love Island, aren’t ya?”

Bucky’s entire soul exits his body.

He blinks. Once. Twice. 

He processes the words and does not fucking understand them.

The guy nods, like he’s just cracked a case. “Yeah. My girlfriend fucking hates you, bro.”

Bucky opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

You, on the other hand, look like this is the greatest single living moment of your life. “Oh my god, Barnes.”

Bucky looks to the sky for help. None arrives.

“What the fuck is a Love Island?”

The guy crosses his arms. “Deny it all you want, man. But we all saw what you did to Lulu.”

“I was literally a prisoner of war for seventy years.”  

“And yet,” you say, eyes twinkling with evil delight, “you still had time to emotionally devastate a woman named Lulu on national television.”

Bucky turns to you, betrayed. “Who the fuck is Lulu?”

The guy shakes his head in disappointment. “Shame on you, man.”

You clap the guy on the shoulder. “You’re so right– what’s your name? Troy? You’re so right, Troy. Bucky here thinks just because he has a pretty face and a rockin’ bod, he can break hearts without consequences.”

“What the fuck is a Love Island?” Bucky asks in despair. 

“Ashamed of what gave you your fame?” You click your roof to the top of your mouth. “People would do anything for the opportunity to be shirtless on a beach for three months–”

“Someone tell me what the fuck a Love Island is.” Bucky drags a palm across his face.

“It’s not you? Oh.” Troy deflates, glancing at you instead. “Are you the one from Love Island then?”

“I wish.” You pull your lips into a straight line. “Some people just aren’t grateful for the chance they’re given.”

“Oh wait. I recognise you, you're from that ghost show.” He brightens up again, wagging his finger at you. “My niece loves you.”

You nudge Bucky in excitement at the news, as if you hadn’t induced fifteen years worth of self-hatred into him twenty seconds ago. “Tell your niece she's got great taste.”

He nods briefly. “So, what are you doing here?” 

“We heard this is the fastest-growing paranormal group in the city. Just wanted to check it out.”

The guy perks up immediately. “Oh yeah! The Ghost’s energy is real strong tonight. Dennis said he’s been slamming Monster Energy all day, so the vibes are there, man.”

Bucky’s expression does not change. “Who is Dennis?”

“Our medium.”

You nod sagely. “Of course.”

“He’s got a newsletter. You wanna subscribe?”

“Gee, I sure do,” Bucky says dryly.

You elbow him. “We wanted to join the club first.”

“Alright,” he chirps. “I’m sure Dennis won't mind. Meeting starts in ten minutes. You can grab your cloaks by the door and head on in.”

Bucky stops. “Cloaks?”

“Yeah, it's imperative to the Ghost that we dress the same.”

“Absolutely fucking–” 

“Don't worry about him, he's only upset that he didn't get to bring his own cloak,” you interject immediately. “It came free with his coffin and some sunscreen.”

Bucky steps on your foot. You give him a small kick.

“Alright, well, you can have ours. It’s usually five bucks each but I’ll let it slide if you sign something for my niece,” Troy says. “If you're filming, please keep the flash off.”

“You got it, boss,” you salute.

The guy shrugs. “Meeting starts in ten. You can drink from the chalice and head on in.”

Bucky immediately locks onto that second part. “The what?”

The guy pulls out a black goblet filled with dark red liquid.

Bucky immediately takes a step back.

The guy holds it out. “It’s the Ghost’s essence. Dennis prepares it before every meeting.”

Bucky and you stare at it.

You lean in, sniffing inconspicuously. “What ingredients are in the Ghost’s… essence?” 

The guy shrugs. “Dunno. Dennis just goes into a room, talks to the Ghost for a bit, and comes back with this. It’s different every time.”

Bucky’s stare is flat. “Oh yeah. That’s normal.”

“Here, try.”

Bucky does not move. “I’m allergic.”

“To what?”

“Yes.”

The guy frowns. “You haven’t even tasted it–”

“I’m allergic,” Bucky repeats. “Real bad. Death and everything.”

You nod solemnly. “I already had some.”

The guy blinks. “You did?”

“Yep, just couldn't help myself. Found some around here and I felt the Ghost really call to me.” You beam rather convincingly. 

“I think it’s calling to you again, you should try some more,” Bucky tells you.

“Nope. Had plenty. Gotta save some for the others,” you say loudly, kicking his foot again. “It was great, though. Ghost tastes great��� I mean, got great taste.”

“Well in that case, here’s your cloak and you can head on in,” he smiles at you before turning to Bucky. “You’ll have to pay, though.”

Bucky’s face scrunches. “I’m in the fuckin’ show too.”

“So you are from Lo–”

“I was not on Love Island,” he declares definitely.

“Right,” he drags, like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Five bucks.”

Bucky stares at him. Troy smiles right back.

Bucky grumbles, relenting as he reaches out into his pocket to shell out five dollars.

Bucky had taken the mandatory black cloak with all the enthusiasm of someone being handed a parking ticket.

You, on the other hand, are already swirling yours around your shoulders like you’re about to perform a monologue.

“Personally, I’m not too fond of the silhouette, but it’s fine for a last-minute fit, I guess.” You adjust the hood, pulling it low over your eyes before striking a pose. “Do you think I look cute?”

Bucky blinks. He wasn’t expecting the question. His brain short-circuits almost immediately. 

You tilt your head, waiting.

He cannot figure out what to say, so he simply lets out a grunt. It’s extremely embarrassing. 

"I'll take that as a yes."  

Bucky makes a face. 

Instead, he moves to something else entirely. Flips his cloak over his shoulders, tying it into a perfect, military-precise knot in two seconds flat. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Well, that was fast.”

“It’s a knot. Not rocket science.”

You step in closer, reaching out to tug lightly at the strings of his cloak. “Did you go full Boy Scout at some point? Or was that just, like, a super useful skill in your assassin era?”

Bucky does not move. “Are you done?”

You grin. “Nope. I like being all up in your space. You’re even hotter up close.” 

He immediately steps back.

“Coward.”

“Don’t want you ruining my knot.” Bucky tugs it tighter, then glares down at your very haphazardly tied cloak. “Jesus. That’s a disaster.”

"I was going for a more casual look."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Give it.”

“Oh, so now you want to touch me?”

Bucky freezes for half a second, until you laugh and then it turns into a half-hearted glare. 

Then, without reacting, he reaches out and untangles your mess of a knot with infuriating ease.

You watch him carefully as he ties it. He’s surprisingly gentle, fingers working quickly.

“You’re being very careful.”

“You’ll find a way to strangle yourself otherwise.”

“Is this your version of caring?”

Bucky ignores you.

“Oh, it is.”

“Just– shut up. Five minutes. I’ll pay you.”

Bucky steps back, hands off. The knot is perfect. He gives it a quick tug to test it, then nods.

You stare at him.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You grin, pulling the hood over your head. “I just think it’s adorable that you want me to live.”

Bucky mutters something unintelligible under his breath and gestures toward the meeting hall. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The room is set up like a middle school talent show.

Rows of metal chairs, some folding, some clearly stolen from a diner, all arranged in a rows in front of a small, elevated stage. The stage itself is haphazardly draped with black fabric, trying to give the illusion of magic but mostly looking like a supermarket Halloween clearance aisle.

There is, for some fucking reason, a fog machine in the corner, already hissing out an unnecessary amount of smoke. The whole room smells faintly of lavender essential oils and burnt plastic.

"I gotta say, I expected more," you hum, adjusting your cloak as you scan the room.

“Like what?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Maybe some candles? You’d think they’d at least have, like, a bowl of blood or something.”

Bucky side-eyes you. “Not everything has to fuckin’ theatrical all the time. Just ‘cause you’re floating around 23 hours of the day, scaring the shit out of everyone.” 

You grin. “Oh, so you do think my theatrics are effective.”

Bucky realizes his mistake immediately. “That is not what I said.”

"No, no, I heard it," you smirk, nudging his shoulder as you lean in slightly. "You're saying that my supernatural entrance at your window was extremely well-executed."

Bucky glares at you. “I am saying nothing.”

"You're saying I have a flair for the dramatic. That my execution is flawless. That you—"

Bucky reaches over and yanks your hood over your face.

"Mmph—" You flail immediately, dragging it back. "Rude."

Bucky hides a smile to himself but doesn’t say anything.

You narrow your eyes. “You know, you should consider a little showmanship yourself.”

"No."

"I mean, look at you," you gesture vaguely at him, ignoring him. "You've got the sexy ex-assassin, current caveman aesthetic locked down. I’m imagining a trench coat. Maybe a few monologues in the rain. You’d be unstoppable.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do I have to do to get you to shut up?”

“Put your tulips on my tulips–”

He gets up and moves one seat over, away from you and the heat blossoming on his face. 

You follow right behind him with a grin, satisfied.

Mercifully, something your attention is drawn to the people entering the room before you notice his face flushing. 

The crowd is a mix of true believers and people who are clearly just here for the novelty of it. Some attendees look fully committed, hoods drawn, faces solemn. Others are whispering and pulling out their phones, probably posting about this on some platform.

You, however, are too busy fiddling with your cloak.

"This fabric is trash," you mutter, pulling at it. "What is this, polyester? It’s so staticky."

"That’s the real issue here," Bucky mutters.

"It is when I keep getting shocked," you say, rubbing your wrist where the fabric clings.

Bucky watches you for half a second too long when you tug at it with annoyance, brows pulled together.

Maybe he should’ve been honest earlier when you asked how he thought you looked. 

Instead, he clears his throat and looks away.

More people take seats. 

The atmosphere changes suddenly when a man in his late thirties walks up to the podium. 

He wears a deep purple cloak, slightly different from the ones given at the door. His hair is combed neatly back, his expression calm and composed.

He raises a hand. The murmurs in the room die down almost immediately.

You lean toward Bucky slightly. "Okay, so we have our medium."

Bucky doesn’t respond, but his jaw shifts slightly.

The man smiles. "Welcome, seekers of truth."

A few people nod reverently.

Bucky leans toward you. "You owe me five bucks."

"What?"

"I bet you earlier that he was going to say ‘seekers of truth’ within the first two minutes."

You peer at him. "I don't remember making that bet."

“We absolutely did.”

“You’re just trying to get back the five bucks you spent on the cloak.”

On stage, Dennis continues.

"Tonight is special," he says smoothly. "The Ghost’s energy is stronger than ever."

A few people murmur in agreement.

Bucky leans in again. "If I start screaming, do you think they'll kick me out?"

"Fuck around and find out, babygirl."

Instead of responding, he reaches over and yanks the knot he had tied securely for you loose. 

You glare at it. Then at him.

"If you wanted to take my clothes off, you could have just asked," you whisper. “At least buy me dinner first.” 

 "I hate you."

"You don't."

"I’ve never hated anyone more."

"You don't," you say, tapping his knee lightly. "You like my company, even if it causes you physical pain. That’s why it sucks even worse for you."

Bucky makes a sound that is a little too like a growl. 

The speaker, oblivious, raises his hands again.

Then, with a slow, practiced movement, he turns back toward the stage.

The room settles. The tension shifts.

Bucky doesn’t like it.

Not because it’s weird, exactly– he’s been in weirder places. But because he knows a performance when he sees one.

Dennis moves deliberately. Every step, every gesture, designed for impact.

And then, in a voice as smooth as a radio host’s, he speaks.

"The Ghost moves among us tonight," he says, pacing slowly across the stage. "I felt it earlier. A shift in the air. A whisper."

Bucky leans toward you.

"Did the Ghost also tell him to crank the fog machine to maximum?"

You bite back a grin. "It adds ambiance."

"It adds a fucking fire hazard."

You both glance toward the corner of the room, where the mist machine continues pumping out thick, curling fog.

It’s a lot, and smells faintly chemical and like no fog Bucky has ever smelt before. It spills along the floor, reaching all the way to the back row of seats.

Dennis stops, tilting his head.

"The energy here is special," he murmurs. "Do you feel it?"

A few people murmur in agreement.

Bucky does not murmur.

Instead, he tunes in, watching the room, the way people react. Watching the way Dennis pauses just long enough to let silence work in his favour.

It's polished. Which means it’s bullshit.

You’re half-listening, half-scanning the room. Not just in the way you usually soak in information, but in a subtler way. Like you’re looking for something.

Bucky notices. He wonders if he should ask. 

Dennis closes his eyes briefly, as if receiving a message.

"Some of you are new," he says suddenly, his voice shifting slightly. "Some of you have never been here before. You’ve been drawn here. Led here. Perhaps by curiosity, or fate, or something deeper. Whatever the reason, you are here now."

And then Dennis gestures to the audience.

A few nods in the audience. Someone exhales softly, like they’re already halfway into a trance.

Dennis begins to pace. Slow, measured steps, his fingers twitching slightly as if he’s channeling something.

"The spirit has whispered to me once again." His voice lowers. "I have seen visions."

A murmur spreads through the audience.

Dennis stops. Closes his eyes for effect.

"Dark visions. Visions of the Great Ghost of Nickasta’s past."

Dennis opens his eyes, gaze sweeping the room. "Tonight, we will consult with– is someone filming?"

Every head snaps around, straight toward you and Bucky.

Bucky doesn’t move.

You blink. Then, very slowly, you look down at the camera in your hands.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” You raise your hand slightly, like a student in class. “We're new. The Graveyard Shift here to witness the—”

You dig around in your pocket, pulling out a folded-up flyer, squinting at it in the dark.

"—transformative power of communicating with ghosts."

You fold it back up and look at him expectantly.

Dennis’ smile tightens. "Recording is not encouraged." 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

Dennis stares at him. With just a touch too much hesitation, he says “It disturbs the Ghost from reaching full power.”

Bucky’s head cranes.

"Keep that thing on," he tells you as if you had any plans of shutting it off, before raising his voice. "Why not? Don't you wanna get your message out there? Help people?"

Dennis' clasped hands remain tight.

"It is not my message," he says smoothly. "It is the Ghost’s. I am merely a vessel."

Bucky’s lips press together. "Great. Free publicity for the Ghost."

"Yeah, we're doing pretty well on YouTube," you add, twirling the camera slightly in your hands. "Could be doing better on Instagram, but this guy refuses to go live."

Bucky glares. “It’s not gonna happen. Let it go.”

Dennis’ jaw tightens slightly. His gaze does another quick sweep of the room.

Then, finally– 

"No." He plasters on a tight smile. "You may continue. But know this—some things cannot be captured by a device so primitive as a camera."

"I’ll take that risk." Bucky leans back in his chair, smug, before adding under his breath to you, "He’s definitely scamming."

You snort. "Give him a chance."

"I gave him five bucks."

"And you got a very hot cloak out of it, which your shoulders look incredible in."

Bucky glares ahead.

"What visions were you having?" someone in the crowd shouts, following it up with a strange laugh. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

Dennis claps his hands together, a smooth pivot away from the interruption.

"Ah, yes, the visions!" he announces, voice swelling with importance. "The Ghost has revealed to me a story of great suffering! Of betrayal! Of a spirit trapped! A mighty beast who could not be contained!"

A few people in the crowd gasp, others burst into tiny giggles. Bucky wonders if others were here for the shits and laughs too. 

"How big?" someone in the crowd shouts.

Dennis' eyes light up. He lifts his arms wide, stretching as far as he can.

"He was... huge!" he exclaims, pacing the stage, cloak billowing slightly behind him. "Larger than life itself! And he was trapped, my friends."

A few people gasp softly.

Dennis cries out, "Trapped in chains by the very people who claimed to ‘love’ him!"

Bucky’s face remains blank.

"His mighty beast was strong, yes, but he was misunderstood. He wanted to be free, to live among the people in peace. But no! They took him, they made him fight, and then they... they trapped him!"

Dennis throws himself against the table, inhaling deeply like he’s just been hit by divine revelation. "They made him climb a tall tower!"

He wonders if it actually hurt the guy, all the throwing himself around that he was doing. 

"They paraded him for all to see, mocking him!"

Bucky's eyes close briefly, as if in pain. "Okay."

Mist grows stronger around the room, almost like he’s stuck in a room with a bunch of vapers.

His nose scrunches up immediately, eyes stinging lightly as he blinks.

“What the hell is that smell,” he blows the air in front of him.

“Chemical, with undernotes of sweetness,” you note. “Is that what the Ghost smells like or is it a creative interpretation?”

“It's gonna give me a migraine.”

“Breathe through your mouth, then,” you say, raising the camera up and zooming into Dennis doing… whatever.

Bucky just shrugs the stupid cloak off his shoulders and ties it around his face in a makeshift balaclava.

“I feel it,” Dennis announces, throwing his hands in the air. “It is here.”

“What is?” the crowd cries.

“My migraine,” Bucky answers.

You shove at his knee with yours.

Someone stumbles to their feet. “The beast... the spirit... it’s... it's all so beautiful!”

People around him burst into giggles.

“I can feel it, it’s... inside me!” someone in the front laughs loud enough to drown out the music.

“Yes! Yes! The Ghost is in all of you!” Dennis shouts, pointing. “We are all like the beast, misunderstood and bound by chains, but we must rise above it all—

“I am rising,” the same cloak guy from earlier chuckles, knocking the chair behind him to the ground as he stands up. “I see the Ghost.”

“Oh,” you comment, looking around to see everyone with their hands up in the air.

Bucky's arms stay firmly crossed over his chest as he sits slumped in his miserable little chair, staring at the crowd around him around him.

“Everyone's doing something,” you observe through all the loud laughter.

“I can see that,” he says, noticing that your knee continues to brush against his after you shoved at him before coming to a rest. His throat constricts in a way that makes talking a little more difficult.

He pulls the stupid cloth tighter around his face because whatever the smell was, it clearly was giving him a physical reaction.

“I’m having FOMO.”  

“By all means, do not let them make you feel that way,” Bucky grumbles, in what he thought was a tone dropping with sarcasm.

“You're right,” you say, dumping the camera on him before standing up with your hands in the air.

Great. Now he was responsible for this thing too.

“They tried to tear him down from his tower,” Dennis shouts.

“Who?” you shout back like it’s a fucking improv show.

“The Witch! The righteous witch, walking along her path of gold!”

“What?” you stop immediately. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It’s the pink lady from Wizard of Oz,” Bucky says casually.

You turn to him, eyebrow raised.

“His great beast is King Kong. Tower, beast, misunderstood, made to fight,” Bucky replies. “Nick and Asta are characters from The Thin Man.”

You lean toward him. "What?"

“He’s bastardizing movies from the 20s.”

You squint toward Dennis, who is still in full Shakespearan mode.

"Can you feel the injustice, my children?" Dennis exclaims. "Can you see the Ghost at work?"

You grin. "Are you telling me you sat through movies in the ‘20s?"

"I was alive in the ‘20s, what the fuck else was I supposed to do?"

Dennis continues, "We are all on a journey, a journey just like those travelers in the great dust storm– oh yes, yes, the spirit shows me! We must keep pushing forward, even when the sand storm rages!"

Bucky grimaces immediately. "Grapes of Wrath."

"What?" 

"Saw it when it was released. Thought it was boring as fuck."

You try to stifle a laugh. "You look so young, sometimes I forget you were childhood friends with Adam and Eve."

Bucky glares at you. 

Dennis throws his arms out. "Another! Another in the room with us! This mechanical Titan with a heart of gold! They saw him as just a machine, but no, no! He was so much more! The spirit showed me! He was a reflection of the true power within us all—"

"Metropolis," he mutters. “Thea von Harbou's novel."

“Bucky, you fucking nerd.” You tap his shoulder, grinning. “Look at you, busting scams and quoting movies made during the dawn of time. Do you know how hot you are?”

“What?”

“I said, are you single? I’m asking for a friend.”

“Uh huh,” he replies, when the mist pumps into the room.

“I’m the friend.”

“Got that,” he replies, focusing on literally anything else.

Dennis continues without missing a beat. "But wait! Not all of you have followed the spirit’s true path!"

The room goes quiet. Dennis' eyes scan the crowd before he points suddenly.

"You! Yes, you!"

For a second, Bucky thinks he’s pointing at him.

"You betrayed the spirit, didn’t you? You–"

You poke Bucky. "Did you betray the spirit?"

"Only when I felt like it," he mutters.

However, the man in the row ahead of you suddenly lets out a panicked noise.

"I– I needed to go to the bathroom so bad!" he cries. "The line to the club was so long, and the bouncers weren’t letting anyone in, so I just cut ahead–"

Dennis gasps. A few others in the room let out soft, horrified whispers, as if the man had committed a felony. 

"No!" Dennis shouts, pointing like he’s passing divine judgment.

The poor guy visibly withers in his seat.

"You have broken the trust of the divine!" Dennis booms. "You must atone!"

The man trembles. "W-what should I do?"

Bucky mutters under his breath. "Is everyone here on drugs?"

Dennis softens slightly, his voice taking on a careful, patronizing tone.

"The spirit demands retribution," he says. "But the Ghost is merciful. And today, so very generous. For a small donation, you will have the chance to cleanse yourself from the darkness."

Bucky watches the guy scramble for his wallet. "Is he selling forgiveness?"

The man hands over thirty bucks.

"This is literally how the Church split,” he mumbles.

You suppress a laugh. "Did it affect your Sunday plans?"

Bucky shoots you a dry look. "I was born in 1917. The Church split four hundred years before that."

"Oh, right." You nod seriously. "I just assumed you were there when Martin Luther nailed his stuff to the door."

Bucky exhales, pressing the heel of his palm into his temples.

The fog thickens.

Dennis' voice rises. "Everyone quiet! The Ghost is speaking!"

You turn to Bucky. "The Ghost is speaking, Buck."

Bucky groans. "You mean till now he’s been freestyling?"

Dennis throws his hands up toward the ceiling. "I feel it! It is here!"

Bucky’s nose twitches. The smell is stronger now, almost becoming hard to see through– 

A split second later, you both realize.

Your eyes widen. "Is that–?"

"Nitrous oxide," Bucky confirms, standing up.

"Pumping laughing gas into the room, are you fucking kidding me?" you curse. “We need to air this place out.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Bucky turns sharply, scanning the room. He watches as shoulders slump, as people laugh for no reason. A guy near the front sways slightly, blinking like he’s forgotten where he is.

Someone else lets out a dazed giggle.

Bucky’s focus zeroes in on the mist machine, still hissing. There are small metal canisters stacked neatly beside it, refilling the room.

Bucky crosses the room in four steps.

Dennis barely has time to turn and register the movement before Bucky grabs one of the small pressurized canisters, gripping it in one hand.

"Hey! What are you—"

Bucky doesn’t answer, instead throwing it straight through the window.

The glass explodes outward, scattering onto the pavement outside.

A rush of cold air floods in.

The sound shocks the room, pulling some people out of their haze. Others are still too fogged up to react.

Dennis' face twists in outrage. "What the fuck?!”

"Show’s over," he mutters, chucking the second one too.

It slams into the glass and tumbles outside, hissing as it empties into the night.

Dennis looks like he might actually explode. "You’re ruining–"

"You can talk to the great Ghost through your one phone call in jail," Bucky interrupts, brushing glass off his sleeve.

Dennis lets out a furious noise, grabbing the stupid silver chalice from the table beside him and hurls it directly at Bucky’s head.

Bucky barely tilts his head to the side but finds that there’s really no need.

The chalice stops midair. Hangs there. Slowly floats back to the table, settling back into place.

Dennis' rage turns into something closer to panic.

"Let’s not get pissy now," you remark, voice syrupy sweet.

"Fuck you," Dennis snarls.

And then, in an act of desperation, he grabs a knife from the altar.

It’s cheap plastic. It’s definitely a prop. This guy was fuckin’ nuts.

Still, he lifts it like he’s going to lunge at Bucky.

Except his own cloak yanks tight around his arms.

Dennis lets out a choked sound as it wraps, pulling his limbs against his sides.

The curtain behind him rips off its hooks, swirling around him.

In seconds, he’s bound to the chair behind him, like some kind of villain in a medieval play.

The room stares.

You smile, pleasantly.

"Enough," you say, voice cooler than it should be.

Dennis glares daggers at you.

Bucky glances at you, mouth twitching slightly. 

Only then do you notice silence has fallen. 

You look at the crowd, only to find them watching you.

Someone in the back lets out a horrified whisper. 

"The spirit is here."

The crowd erupts.

"Where?" you ask, genuinely confused.

"The Ghost!" someone screams. "It's you!"

You blink. "Oh, me?"

They nod fervently.

A few drop to their knees.

You process this for a moment. Then grin like you just won the lottery.

"Oh, right. Yeah. Of course it’s me." You lift your arms slightly. "Hey, y’all." 

The crowd gasps. 

“Guide us.”

Bucky groans. "Some fuckin’ role model you’ve got there."

You pretend not to hear him. Instead, you do what you’ve seen Wanda do a million times, even though it really did nothing for you. 

You lift your hands slightly. Let your feet rise just a little off the floor. 

The room erupts in gasps.

"Fuck’s sake," Bucky mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

You clear your throat. "Yes, it is I. Spirit of Stick Blasta."

"Nickasta," Bucky corrects.

"Nickasta," you confirm. "I have traveled a long time to be here."

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty millennia."

Bucky watches as you fake-peek through your half-closed eyes.

"I have some wisdom to share," you announce.

The crowd leans forward.

Bucky leans back.

"First!" you bellow. "Do not listen to anyone who stands on stage and says they've got a spirit moving through them. They're lying."

"But you’re doing that," Bucky heckles.

"Except me. I’m legit," you add quickly.

Bucky watches as you subtly flip him off with one of your raised hands.

"Second!" you continue. "Do not pay people for forgiveness."

You pause. "Unless that person’s name is Prosecutor and you’re bored of how long the case is being—"

"Next one," Bucky interrupts loudly.

You wave a hand dismissively.

"Third…" You falter. "I don’t know. Does anyone have suggestions?"

The crowd stares.

Bucky facepalms.

"Right. No suggestions." You clap your hands together. "Meeting adjourned."

The room is silent.

Then, someone whispers, "What… what do we do now?”

You land lightly on the floor again, brushing nonexistent dust off your cloak.

"For realsies, though, I suggest you get any money you paid this guy back. And then sue him into oblivion.” 

Dennis makes furious muffled noises from under the curtain still binding him.

You glance at him.

With zero effort, Dennis gets dragged backward, vanishing backstage.

The crowd stares.

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Everyone out," Bucky orders.

The crowd obeys instantly.

Still dazed, still giggling from the leftover gas, they shuffle toward the exits.

Bucky looks at you. "Are you fine?"

You ignore him. 

Instead, you call after the crowd, "And call someone to pick you up!"

They nod vaguely.

"I already called the paramedics, they'll be here in a minute!" you shout. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

Bucky’s expression tightens.

"Are you fine?" he repeats.

You wave it off. "Oh yeah. It takes way more substances to get me high. All this was covered under the Leviathan Weapon of Mass Destruction starter kit.  What about you?"

"Me too." Bucky shrugs. After a pause, he clears his throat. "You didn’t have to tie him up."

"He was annoying,” you say flippantly. 

"I wasn’t actually in danger."

"I know."

"It was probably grape juice."

"I know."

"I didn’t need help."

"I know."

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. "What’s your play here?"

"My play?" You scoff. "I know this emo lone wolf thing is something you’ve been cultivating carefully for years, but sometimes, people can do things for you and have it not be a play."

Bucky stares. "Like what?"

"Like-- I don’t know– trying to protect you even if you don’t need it." You turn on your heel, hopping down from the stage. "Or like checking to see if you’re still breathing when you’re lying face down on the table."

Bucky does not respond, feeling his fingers get all fidgety. 

 “C’mon,” you tell him, halfway out the door. “We’ve got some explaining to do.”

He clears his throat, rolls his shoulders back and starts behind you.

“We’ve got all the footage. So that should be good." You turn to eye him. "But you know what’ll really help our case? You keeping that cloak on.” 

Bucky groans, yanking at the fabric that hung across his neck like a bath towel. "I’m gonna set this thing on fire."

"You won’t. You are the cloak now.""

"I will."

“You’re still wearing it. I think you actually like it.”

Bucky grinds his teeth. "I’m leaving."

"In the cloak?"

"Shut up."

"I think it makes you look distinguished."

Bucky storms toward the exit.

You follow, grinning the whole way.

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[world-of-aus]

The Thirsty Barrel

Pairing: Bullrider!Bucky x Bartender!Reader

Warnings: Bullrider!Bucky that's it, thats the warning.

Author's Note: Y'all would not imagine how long this piece has been sitting in my documents just waiting to be wrapped up and well I think I may have done it. Writing has been hard, finding a muse has been hard, but with what little comes to me I take it and run. Enjoy my sweeter than Tennessee whiskey bull-rider.

Unsure of where to go after the rodeo? Thirsty barrel was the hottest family-owned spot for great food, great music, dancing, and the greatest eight seconds of your life, or your money back.  

The venue was at its peak in patrons this evening, the crowd stretching as far as your eye could see behind the packed bar where you ran drinks. This was the venues norm when the PBR was involved. The crowd a mix of rodeo goers, professional bull riders, cowboys, and the ever-eager buckle bunnies just waiting to snatch a hat off the heads of an awaiting rider. 

You know the saying, wear the hat, ride the cowboy. 

Well, that statement ran truer then true here. 

At first you had thought the phrase to be a running joke among the cowboys who sauntered up to your bar to run you a line while asking for a refill on their drinks. Though with the fair share of men you saw dragged out by the ever-eager buckle bunny through the bar doors right before last call you had come to learn it wasn’t just a phrase. 

“Can I get you anything else sugar?” You question as you sit the glass shots on the bar, flipping the liquor of her choice in your hand as you pour over each glass. 

The blonde perks up curling a strand of her platinum hair around her finger as she leans up against the bar as to tell you a secret, “actually I do have one more thing, do you know what he drinks?” she questions turning her gaze over her shoulder.  

Your eyes follow her movement, gaze falling on the broad-shouldered rider and his team laughing over their pints of beer you ran them earlier in the evening. You’re not surprised he’s what she’s after, he’s made quite the name for himself not only in the PBR but the thirsty barrel as well. You want to tell her to count her losses and find another cowboy, because that one just wasn’t available. You had sent many women his way and many had left his table tail tucked with no hat on their head, and one less drink in their hand. You know she was susceptible to the same fate as the many woman before her but that doesn’t stop you from pouring what you’ve come to learn is his favorite drink.  

Maybe she’d finally snatch the hat. 

Sliding her shots over along with the added glass you tap the bar, “here you are sugar - holler if you need anything else!” 

Her smile is wide, eager as she grabs her drinks from you, “thank you!” she calls over her shoulder. You linger in the area, watching as she struts her way through the crowded floor, determination in her stride as she zeros in on the bull rider and his team. 

She saddles up to the table cheerful and eager as most buckle bunnies are, the drink you’ve poured being held out to the man on everyone’s sights tonight. Your attention is short lived though as you’re pulled in by a tipsy patron asking for another round. You’re happy to oblige the pink cheeked man as you grab a chilled glass pouring the preferred choice on tap. You send him off with a sweet smile knowing he’ll saunter back with an empty glass before the hour is up. 

You chance a glance back over to his booth then expectant to see the girl saddling her way into the spot next to him, but instead your eyes catch on his awaiting Cerulean blues. There’s a smirk on his pink lips, the chilled glass you just ran in his hand, hat still on his head and not a single sign of the girl you sent his way. He brings the glass up tipping it your way before bringing it to his lips, eyes never leaving yours as he takes that first sip. You want to look away but find it hard, his gaze entrancing as he watches you. 

You’ve never been more thankful for the group that saunters up to your side of the bar than, their giggly group effectively breaking your gaze from his. It’s once again a short-lived moment as one of the girls who's gone pink at the cheeks asks if you can run three shots to the table just behind them, you don’t have to glance over to know what table they refer to. “Sure thing sweetheart we run drinks often to the riders, you’d like me to leave them with a message?” You question as you push their drinks out onto the bar, the one who’s gone bashful on you shakes her head, “no thank you just the drinks, and if I can get you one as well for the trouble?” 

You’re cooing at her as you thank her , “it’s really no trouble for us here at all honey, we’re always running out drinks to the riders but thank you! I’ll get these over to the them shortly.” 

Her group doesn’t linger as they grab their drinks going on their merry way back to the crowded open floor. You pour the three shots out, making sure to grab that extra glass just for you, you would definitely be needing this tonight. 

“Leaving the bar!” you get out as you swing out from behind the area, sliding your way past patrons careful not to spill the liquor in your hands. The crowd parts for you as you come up on their booth, Sam, Steve and Bucky sit spread out deep in conversation, “hiya boys,” you greet drawing their eyes, “got a special delivery for you all courtesy of the pretty ladies at the bar” you grin hand delivering the shots to each one.  

Sam and Steve thank you sweetly, “that’s awful sweet of you, thank you sweetheart and sorry for all the trouble were giving you tonight.” You wave the bearded blonde off, “s’no trouble at all Stevie, expected nothing less when it came to PBRs hottest.” You grin. 

“One of these for you?” Bucky questions having taken notice of the extra shot glass in your hand. Your gaze finds his beneath the brim of his hat, “sure is, courtesy of all the trouble you’ve been giving me,” you tease him, nearly melting under the panty dropping smile he throws at you “boss lets us all have at least one when we’re riding.” You add lifting up the shot glass tilting it towards them. 

Sam whistles low, “you taking on the bull tonight? You grin with a nod, “well I'll be damned, definitely going to be the thirsty barrels greatest show tonight.” 

Your cheeks warm, “it’ll be the greatest eight seconds of your life or money back guaranteed Wilson.” 

“Well here’s to y/n and to the greatest eight seconds!” Steve cheers bringing up his shot glass. The three of you follow suit, the liquor going down smoothly as you tip the shot glass back. Four shot glasses meet the table, a grin kissing your lips as you look over the booth of riders “well gentleman thank you for the company and the drink if you need anything else you know where to find me.” Knocking the table with your fists you turn on your heel intent on heading back to the bar but a hand wrapping around yours stops you from going farther. 

Your gaze follows the hand wrapped around your wrist “need something trouble?” you question. 

A smile pulls at his pink lips, his hand dropping from yours, his body slipping from the booth easily. He stands closing the distance between the two of you. You watch as the hand that held yours goes for the hat that everyone’s been chasing after. Your breath catches in your throat as he pulls it off, flipping it around before letting it fall over your head, his scent encasing you. Your speechless and you know he knows if that smirk is any indication. “For your ride tonight sweetheart.” 

You don’t know what comes over you, maybe it was the liquid courage from the shot you had just chased but the words are out before you can clamp your mouth shut. “You referring to the bull or yourself Barnes?” 

Seems you weren’t the only one who gained courage from the shot, “both,” he answers, “though I surely plan on giving you more than eight seconds sweetheart.”  Sam whistles, Steve claps the table, and Bucky waits for your response with a devilish grin. 

Your tongue runs along your inner cheek, “it’s a good thing I was looking for a ride – meet me after last call.”

[erimeows]

Drunk In Love

Most nights after work, Team Mustang carpools to the nearest bars. 

Most nights, Riza Hawkeye also gets hit on. 

It’s almost routine at this point. She’s young, beautiful, and carries herself with a calm, sharp confidence that turns heads the moment she walks in. Her military uniform, perfectly pressed, only adds to her appeal- there’s something about a service woman that draws men in like moths to a flame. 

Roy hates it. He hates the way they look at her, the way they hover too close, hoping for a flicker of interest. He hates how they stumble over clumsy pick-up lines that never work and leer like they’ve earned the right to her time. She always rejects them, firmly enough but still kinder than they deserve, and it never affects her and Roy’s dynamic. But still, every time he watches it unfold, something ugly coils in his chest. His throat tightens, his jaw clenches, and his stomach knots itself into something unbearable. He wonders, when women flirt with him in this setting- or when he goes on ‘dates’ with his informants, does Riza feel the same way? And it’s a question that he quickly pushes to the side, because either answer comes with its own set of issues. 

He can’t figure out why it all bothers him so much. Or maybe he already knows and just refuses to admit it. 

Tonight is no different. 

Riza sits beside him at the bar, her chair turned away from the counter so she can face the room- a habit born from years of vigilance. She never lets her guard down, not even here when they’re supposed to be relaxing. Meanwhile, Roy sits properly, facing forward, but his eyes keep flicking to her, drawn to her as if by force. 

A man that’s not nearly attractive enough for someone as beautiful as Riza is standing on her left. He’s been ogling her from across the bar all night with a group of buddies and they stupidly encouraged him to hit on her even though she’s clearly far too good for him. The thought makes Roy sick with something he doesn’t want to dwell on. 

“Hey, there, can I buy you a drink?” The man says, resting his elbow against the counter with a cocky grin and a hunger in his eyes that makes Roy’s blood simmer. 

“No, thank you,” Riza turns him down immediately. Roy lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

Usually, this is where the men say they understand before turning and retreating like mutts with their tails tucked between their legs. But this one is a little drunk and his friends are across the crowded room, even more drunk than he is as they cheer him on. 

“Oh, c’mon, just one drink!”

Riza shifts uncomfortably. Her shoulders tense. A tell that her ever-lasting patience is already starting to thin. The man’s second attempt is loud enough that the rest of the team notices, too. At this point, it just depends on who moves first. Maes is sitting on the other side of Roy, surveying the situation- and Havoc and Falman have both fallen silent to observe as well. Even Fuery and Breda, who are across the room, have stopped to look. But Riza, if pushed, will move before any of them will most of the time. She doesn’t really need them at all. Roy has seen her send men twice her size flying like they weigh nothing when they get a little too frisky. 

“Really,” Riza says, her tone much sharper now. Her impassive gaze has turned into a sharp glare. “Leave me alone.”

But the man still isn’t deterred. 

“Don’t be so uptight. Just one drink, and we can see where it goes from there.”

Riza’s hand drifts to her holster now, fingers twitching as she holds the man’s stare. Roy knows that she can easily handle this by herself, and would probably prefer to do so, but he finds himself emboldened enough by the jealousy (ah, so that’s what it is) that courses through his veins to intervene. 

He stands from his barstool, placing a gloved hand on Riza’s shoulder. He glares at the man standing across from him, who glares right back. And Riza just watches them, stuck in between. Roy is so close to her now that he can smell her cologne- cologne, not perfume- wafting off of her, and in that moment, he finds himself wishing that they could be this close all the time. 

“Back off of my lieutenant,” He finally says, the words coming out far more possessive than he means for them to.

The stranger raises an eyebrow and smirks right back at him. 

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll light you on fire,” And Roy won’t- probably- at least not with both Riza and Maes here to stop him from doing so, but the peculiar threat is enough for the guy to take a step back and cross his arms over his chest. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m The Flame Alchemist,” Roy answers, flashing a smirk. “Care to test out that title?”

Everyone in Amestris has heard of him, so of course, the man’s expression shifts the moment he hears the words leave Roy’s mouth. He takes a step back, wary. 

“Whatever,” He grumbles before retreating back to the booth he came from, a scowl on his face.

Seconds later, he’s dragging his drunk friends from the booth and leaving the building.

“You didn’t have to do that. I was going to shoot at his feet if he kept that up,” Riza says, but she can’t hide the amused grin that takes over her face at just how fast the man retreated under Roy’s threats. “But thank you anyways.”

At that, Roy turns back to her, beaming at the approval. Embarrassing. Maes is sat next to him, laughing his ass off at the display, but Roy doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he meets Riza’s eyes and offers her a soft smile.

“Anything for my lieutenant.”

Riza turns back to her drink, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile stays, growing larger as she peeks at Roy from her peripheral. When their gazes meet again, she laughs.

And Roy swears, he’s never been so conflicted. On one hand, being around her just makes him so… Happy, as of late. On the other hand, he doesn’t like that he gets jealous over her. But of course, he’s been consumed by that selfish sort of feeling since they were kids. He wants to spend time with her, for them to stay by each other’s sides. He doesn’t want her to look or laugh at anyone else the way she does with him.

And he doesn’t want to think about it any further. So, he sits back down in his barstool and orders a shot, ignoring the way that he can feel her honey-hued eyes on him. 

~

Whenever they go out, Roy never drinks too much. At least not when Riza is there, and while it’s mostly because he wants to keep his composure in public, it’s also for a more… Unsavory reason.

The first time he got drunk enough to stumble out the door of the bar- after four shots- Riza insisted on taking him home, and though the memories are foggy, he remembers enjoying them. So, the next time they went, he drank three shots- enough to be decently drunk but still able to remember some of what happened. After that, he started limiting himself to two, which is only enough to get him buzzed, but he always acts a little more drunk than he actually is in an attempt to get Riza to take him home.

And she always does, half-heartedly scolding him about how he drinks too much before helping him into the passenger’s seat of the car and driving him home. She’ll help him back out of the car, walking him into his house and tucking him into bed before inevitably leaving. It happens multiple times a week, to the point that Roy has problems going to sleep if she isn’t there to tuck him into bed.

It’s pathetic. It’s wrong. The morally righteous part of him feels bad for taking advantage of his lieutenant’s protective, caring nature to satisfy his emotional needs, but at the same time… He can’t help himself. He needs her around, and he’s too scared to simply ask her to come home with him. So he does this instead. And it’s not quite as good as the things he won’t admit he fantasizes about, but it’s enough for him.

Tonight is the same as many of the others- he drinks two shots, Riza doesn’t pay attention and assumes he’s had more, and he uses the minimal acting skills he has to convince her that he’s drunk enough that he can’t drive. 

He’s perfected the act, especially lately; a slight slur in his words, a well-timed stumble, a heavy-lidded gaze that hints at inebriation but never quite crosses into absurdity. It’s enough to fool his subordinates, enough to warrant Riza’s steady hands on his body to keep him upright, enough to ensure that she’ll always be the one to take him home.

And so, the pattern continues.

“Alright, sir, let’s get you home,” Riza sighs at the end of the night, looping an arm underneath his armpit to secure his weight against her strong frame.

Breda snickers into his whiskey at the sight.

“Man, the colonel really can’t hold his liquor, can he?”

“Apparently not,” Falman sighs. “He’s been getting hammered every time we go out for a while now. Should we be worried?”

“I don’t know… I hope it’s not that deep, but it’s really not our business either way,” Fuery trails off with a small frown, glancing between Roy and Riza with worried eyes. 

Havoc takes a drag off of his cigarette, exhaling a puff of smoke as he stares at Riza.

“You’re a saint, Hawkeye. If I had to drag his drunk ass home every night we went out, I’d quit. I don’t even know why you bother coming anymore, knowing that your night is going to end with a drunken bastard of a colonel in your passenger seat.”

Riza rolls her eyes at them, but says nothing as she guides Roy out of the dimly lit bar and towards her car. The drive is short and silent, just as it tends to be. Were it anyone else, Roy would be uncomfortable, but silence with Riza has always been easy in a way that makes his chest feel warm.

When they get to Roy’s house, Riza helps him out of the car like she always does. Roy feels a sad, nervous weight on his chest, knowing that their time like this together is about to end- that in just a few hours, they’re going to be back at work, in uniform, acting like a colonel and his lieutenant. Roy shouldn’t be so upset. That is what they are. But a terrible, undeserving part of him wants more. Wants her.

No, that’s a ridiculous thought. Roy immediately pushes it to the side as Riza leads him to his bedroom. 

He shrugs off his jacket, kicks off his boots, and ‘stumbles’ into the bed. Riza follows close behind so she can gently drag his blanket up over his body and slip a pillow beneath his head. 

“Stay?” Roy asks, and it’s a stupid question that slips out before he can think better of it- one that he tries not to think too hard about- but he knows that if it doesn’t go the way he wants it too, he can blame it on having had a little too much to drink like he always does. 

“You know I can’t do that, sir.”

And he does know. If they were to come into work at the same time tomorrow, in the same car- if anyone were to see her car in his driveway, to see them leave his house together- they would get the wrong idea. But he needs to know if that’s really the only reason she’s refusing to stay. 

“But do you want to?”

“You should know the answer to that by now,” Riza answers after a little too long. Roy has no idea how to interpret the words. She pauses there, standing in front of him like she wants to do something else, but then she’s turning for the door with a frown on her face. “Good night.”

~

The next day is a blur. From waking up painfully alone to having to trudge into work with a pounding headache, it’s been less than ideal. But, Riza is there, and that’s enough to make things a little better. 

There is, however, something throwing him off. An unfamiliar scent that floats around the office as they near the end of their work day. It’s subtle at first, a ghost of a fragrance lingering in the air as Riza walks past his desk to check the mission reports stacked in front of him. He doesn’t notice it immediately, but when she pauses by the bookshelf, it hits him. 

“Are you wearing a new cologne, lieutenant?” Roy asks before he even realizes the words have left his mouth.

It’s not bad, but it is different. Rather than the sort of sweet, subtle scent she wore before, this one is a little more harsh- a little more spicy. 

Riza turns to face him, surprise flickering across her soft features.

“Yes, sir.”

He studies her expression, the slight tilt of her head, the way her brows lift just a fraction as if she hadn’t expected him to notice. He wonders if he’s gone too far, crossed some sort of unspoken boundary without realizing it. But he’s already said the words, and he doesn’t want this to become awkward, so he pressed on. 

“I see,” He murmurs. “It’s nice. I like it.”

“Thank you,” She smiles, and then looks over at the clock on the wall. “Ah, it’s past five. I should be getting home before Black Hayate gets impatient.”

Of course. She always leaves promptly at the end of the workday on nights that the team doesn’t go out. 

“Of course. Have a good night, lieutenant,” Roy says with a smile, though he can’t hide the disappointment that runs through him when she turns and leaves, shutting the door behind her.

The scent of her cologne lingers. 

Now, it’s just him and Maes. 

A sigh falls from in between Roy’s lips, and before he can dwell too much on the odd, restless feeling twisting in his stomach, Maes clears his throat from the other side of the room. 

“Huh,” Maes starts, looking over at Roy from where he’s sat at his desk. “I didn’t know she wore cologne.”

“She’s always worn cologne,” Roy explains. He holds a book on alchemy in his hands, skimming over the pages again and again, but the words don’t stick. He’s been so distracted by Riza lately that he can’t focus on much of anything aside from her. “Though it’s been the same one for the last few years… Armstrong Noir, I think? The change is unusual for her… I wonder if something happened.”

There’s a beat of silence before Maes speaks again, tone laced with something suspiciously close to amusement. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little reckless to say stuff like that in the office?”

Roy’s brow furrows. He frowns, glancing up at Maes with confusion in his eyes.

“What are you getting at, Maes?”

“I mean that people might figure out that you two are, y’know, together.”

The words take a second to register. Roy blinks.

“...What?”

“You don’t need to lie to me, buddy,” Maes leans back in his chair, shooting a knowing look across the room. His hazel eyes have a mischievous glint to them. “I’m cool, I can keep a secret.”

Roy sits there, taking a moment to process the words, and then it clicks. Maes Hughes thinks that he and Riza Hawkeye are secretly dating. And the idea is so absurd (and delightful) that Roy laughs before responding to him.

“Maes…” Roy sets the book down with a huff, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his gloved thumb and pointer finger at the implication. Him and Riza, in a relationship. A romantic one. The idea isn’t horrible, which he doesn’t want to think about, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. “Lieutenant Hawkeye and I are not in any sort of romantic relationship.”

“Oh my God, you’re not lying,” Maes gasps, his eyes wide as he points at Roy with one finger. “You’re not making the face.”

“The face?”

“Hawkeye pointed it out to me once- you make this face when you lie, and now I can’t unsee it,” Maes explains. That’s something that Roy didn’t even know about himself. “Anyway, you two really aren’t together?”

“No. Why would you even think that?”

“I mean… Everyone thinks that.”

“Well, they have no reason to,” Roy pouts, trying to figure out how to change the subject. He doesn’t want to think about this right now. The attachment to Hawkeye that he’s been dealing with as of late has been inconvenient enough. “What, a guy can’t have a female adjutant without them being in some sort of relationship? What a sexist viewpoint- from someone who has a daughter, nonetheless. I’m disappointed in you, Maes.”

“Laying it on a little thick there,” Maes grins. “Feeling guilty?”

“Of course not. I have nothing to feel guilty about,” Roy says, the words low, but it’s not true. He has plenty to feel guilty about, especially in regards to her. “But you need to get that idea out of your mind. My relationship with Lieutenant Hawkeye is strictly professional… And friendly at most.”

“You’re making the face now,” Maes snickers.

“Shut up.”

“Dude. You know what brand of cologne she wears by name.”

“We’ve been working together for a long time.”

“Okay, what brand of cologne do I wear?” Maes demands. Roy opens his mouth to answer, only to realize that he can’t, because he has no idea what brand of cologne Maes wears. “That’s what I thought.”

“I see her more often than I see you, Maes,” He tries to justify it, even as he sits there with the cogs turning in his head. Maes has a point. This doesn’t make sense. “It doesn’t mean anything. When you work with someone every day, you learn those things about them over time.”

“You share your lunch with her every single day.”

“That doesn’t mean anything either,” Roy argues. Riza never brings her own lunch and gets so busy that she doesn’t go to the cafeteria to buy one- of course he shares his. It’s a decent thing to do. “I’d do the same for you if you forgot to bring yours.”

“Okay, how about when we were out at the bar last night?”

Roy’s cheeks flush with embarrassment as he thinks back to that idiotic man he threatened. Not that the guy didn’t deserve it for continuing to push after Riza told him no the first time, but perhaps he didn’t need to intervene. He definitely wouldn’t have done it for anyone else. It’s been gnawing at him all day. 

“I was just being helpful,” Roy argues again, his cheeks turning bright red.

“I think threatening to light the poor guy on fire for creeping on ‘your’ lieutenant is a little more than helpful, Roy.”

“She clearly wasn’t interested- he just wasn’t getting the hint. It’s not like he was respectfully asking her to dinner- he was ogling her all night like a creep and the way he spoke to her was deplorable. Plus, I was drunk.”

“You were not drunk, you hadn’t even had a drop of alcohol at that point. And if he was really bothering her, she would’ve shot at him.”

“She shouldn’t have to do that,” Roy sighs, holding his head in his hands.

“You clearly want to take care of her,” Maes continues, standing up from the desk he’s sat at and walking towards Roy. “And if the way you fake being drunk to make her take you home every time we hit the bar is anything to go by, you want her to take care of you, too.”

He doesn’t like where this conversation is going. Doesn’t like that Maes has clearly seen through his ‘drunk’ act. Has Riza noticed, too? The thought terrifies him as he gets up and paces around the room, trying to find things to keep himself busy with to no avail. 

“I don’t fake being drunk. We all know I have a bit of an alcohol problem.”

“You know what else I know?” Maes walks up to him now, standing right in front of his shorter frame and crossing his arms over his chest. “That it takes you five shots to get drunk, not the two that you limit yourself to when we go out with her.”

“I’m not having this argument with you, Maes,” Roy sighs, pushing past the man so he can go straighten the already-straight books on the bookshelf. So he’s been caught. Hopefully Riza doesn’t know. And hopefully Maes stops prying. “You’re reading too much into things, as always.”

“Well, whatever. But I’m totally talking about this interaction in my best man speech when the two of you get married… Eventually. Hell, I may be dead by the time you decide to man up and confess,” The words make Roy frown, and he thinks to speak up to scold Maes for saying so morbid, but before he can, the other man is grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “I’ve gotta get home and make dinner.”

“Yeah, alright. See you later,” Roy sighs as the ramifications of this conversation run through his head. The last thing he needs is for anyone else to find out about this. “Wait. Maes?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this conversation.”

“Aw, what? It’s relevant to the betting pool!”

“The fucking what?”

“Never mind! Bye!”

With that, Maes is rushing out the door.

And Roy? He stands there, stunned, heart hammering, mind racing.

Because damn it, Maes Hughes is right, just like he’s right about everything. Because the idea, the feeling, the truth- it all finally clicks into place.

He’s in love with his lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye. 

~

Days pass. Roy doesn’t know what to do with his feelings, so for now, he doesn’t do anything. He shoves them down to the best of his ability, ignores them, and acts like things are normal between him and his lieutenant. Her behavior hasn’t changed, so either she has no idea or she knew all along. Roy doesn’t know which is worse. Like most things regarding Riza these days, he doesn’t want to think about it. 

They’re out again, at a different bar this time. They tend to bar hop often. Their entire team is with them, and Ross and Brosh have even come along. Armstrong is with them, too, parading his subordinates around the bar and giving them tips to flirt ‘that have been passed through the Armstrong family line for generations’- whatever that means. 

But all Roy can focus on is Riza. She’s sitting next to him, as always, facing the room with a club soda in hand. He’s sitting next to her with two empty shot glasses in front of him. The bartender had offered another, but Riza had refused for him, citing his blushing face as a clear indication that he was already more than drunk. 

If only she knew. 

It seems that they’re both tired, because they don’t drag things out like they tend to. After an hour of being there, Riza loops an arm underneath his and guides him out of the dimly lit bar.

Once they’re in the car, Roy lets his head rest against the cool glass of the passenger-side window, letting out a tired sigh. The city streets pass by in a blur of pale lights and dark shopfronts. The warmth of Riza’s presence beside him, as always, is both a comfort and a torment.

Tonight, though, something is different. 

She’s too quiet.

And they’re usually quiet when they’re alone like this, but the silence that consumes the car tonight as she drives is tense. The air between them is heavy.

About halfway to his house, she speaks. 

“I know you’re not drunk. You can stop,” She says, and Roy doesn’t respond at first, too overwhelmed. Has he really been that obvious? Has she known the whole time? Or did she only figure it out tonight? What could he have possibly done to tip her off? “Seriously. I’m not stupid.”

“Alright, then,” Roy stiffens, sitting up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. He refuses to open his eyes, too terrified to look at her and see the expression that’s on her face. “Guess I’ve been caught.”

“Damn right you have,” Riza responds, and there’s an edge to her voice that cuts deeper than the initial accusation did.

He can’t tell what it is. Anger, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s scary, so he decides to lie. 

“So what? I’ve been exaggerating a bit so I don’t have to drive home,” He grumbles as he tries his best to ignore the horrible pounding of his heart against his ribs and the compounding anxiety-induced nausea that has bile threatening to surface in his throat. “I’ve done worse.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

Silence again. Roy wills himself to force his eyes open so he can look at her. Her hands remain steady on the wheel. He expects her face to be tense, drawn tight with righteous fury, but instead she’s… Sad. Blinking rapidly, trying to keep tears from welling up in her honey-hued eyes. Struggling to suppress a frown. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks. 

“I wish you’d just admit that you want to spend more time with me,” Riza admits, her voice so quiet that Roy almost struggles to decipher the words. “And I wish you’d admit that you…”

“That I what?”

“That you want me.”

Roy doesn’t know what to do now. He could try to deceive her again, though that didn’t seem to work the first time. He could play it off, turn it into a joke, flash a grin and act like it had all been some sort of fucked up game. But the weight in her voice, the way she’s looking at him with such sorrowful eyes when she pulls up at a stop, tells him that none of that will work. Not this time. 

“So what?” He asks, to which Riza raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“What if I told you that I did want you? What would you say?”

“Sir-”

“Forgive me for asking,” Roy shakes his head. This was foolish. Part of him wonders if he should’ve just doubled down on the lie. If he’d tried hard enough, if she would’ve forgotten about this entire thing. “If this goes… Poorly, we can go back to pretending I’m drunk.”

“No. I’m tired of pretending.”

“So…” Roy starts, drumming his fingers against the door handle. “How long have I been embarrassing myself for?”

“I figured it out after I skipped one of the team’s outings to spend time with Black Hayate,” Riza explains. “Maybe after the second or third time? I called Havoc to make sure he took you home like I’d asked, only for him to say you were able to drive yourself home. I put together rather quickly that you would only get ‘drunk’ enough to need an escort when I was there.”

And Roy is embarrassed. So, so embarrassed that he’s been doing this for god knows how long, and she’s known pretty much the entire time. He’s been making a full of himself, and worst of all, he’s been hurting her. He can tell just by the sorrow that drips from every word she says. 

“So you’ve known for a while.”

“Sure, but… I would’ve figured it out eventually. You have tells. I know when you’re lying.”

“I’m sorry.”

Riza parks the car and turns to face him. 

“I don’t know why you thought you had to lie to me. You could have asked. I would’ve said yes,” Riza turns off the ignition, shoving her keys in the pocket of her coat but still holding his gaze. Roy is so humiliated that he doesn’t want to meet her eyes, but he also can’t bring himself to look away. Her admission feels like pure relief, he should be happy- and he is- but most of all, he feels guilty for dragging this out for so long. “I would have spent the time with you if you had just asked, Roy. And it makes me wonder… Are you ashamed?”

Roy raises an eyebrow at that. He’s ashamed of a lot of things; himself, the things they’ve done, the people he’s killed, the way he’s had to carry himself to advance in his military career, the scars he’s left on people- on Riza- along the way. 

“Of what?”

“Of your feelings for me.”

“No, it’s not that,” Roy whispers, shaking his head. “It’s never been that.”

“Then why?”

“Because I didn’t want to put myself in a position where you could reject me like you reject everyone else,” The answer is followed by a sharp exhale as he runs a hand through his tousled raven locks. “Because I didn’t want to ask for something I wasn’t sure I deserved.”

The silence stretches between them again, thick with the tension that’s been building for years; with the thousands of words left unsaid.

“You’re not like everyone else,” Riza sighs. “I would’ve said yes to you.”

“I asked the other night and you left anyway,” Roy argues, to which Riza glares back at him.

“I said no because you were doing it under the pretense that you were drunk. I’m not going to be vulnerable in front of you by saying yes when you won’t give me the same respect.”

“Will you spend the night with me this time, Riza? Everything’s on the table now, isn’t it?” Roy questions, and when she looks back at him with uncertainty, he continues- desperate to get her to stay after waiting for so long. “We can lie. Say that I drank so much that I made myself sick, and you just stayed to take care of me.”

“Of course I’ll stay,” Riza leans in, caressing his face with one hand and leaning in to press a soft kiss against Roy’s lips. When she pulls away, she’s smiling, her cheeks dusted bright red, and Roy swears he’s never been so happy. “Let’s go inside.”

[000marie198]

Dear audience, we interrupt this binge read to point out,

THE BROTHERS!

Plz him supporting Tails to help the kid get down I can't! I'm so so normal about them WAHUHUHAEAAEEHUUHH

[sergle]

I really really REALLY enjoy when Hugo gets to meet people/kids and gets petted. It's fun for me to just stand back and watch, especially since he'll happily let kids get all up in his face.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, manipulation, mentions of breeding, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's ecstatic the day his owner, Suguru, brings you home. He's the pinnacle of a spoiled pet, constantly showered in toys and treats and affection, but his owner's a busy man, and he tends to sulk when left home alone. He's had other companions before, another leopard hybrid who nearly killed him before being released back into the wild and a black panther who somehow proved to be a worse influence on Satoru than Satoru was on her, but you're supposed to be more permanent solution, another hosuepet to keep him company when Suguru can't. You're a sweet little housecat, all wide-eyes and raised ears, but still, Suguru wouldn't be surprised if you're begging to go back to the shelter less than an hour after meeting your new roommate.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who falls in love with you immediately. Suguru practically has to keep him in a chokehold while you explore your new home, eventually curling up on your new bed. Satoru's on top of you as soon as he gets loose, purring obnoxiously while he runs his bristled tongue over your cheek. Suguru's half-convinced that your first day's going to end with bloody claws and bandages, but you only nuzzle into his chest and knead at the blankets underneath you. Satoru's a difficult cat to put up with, and Suguru's relieved that you, at least, find him tolerable.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's absolutely massive compared to you. The tips of your pointed ears barely reach his collarbones, and your wrist is only as thick as his fluffy tail. His favorite hobby quickly becomes carrying you from room to room despite your softly mewled protests, and he's not happy unless he's pressed against you as closely as possible. He used to force himself into Suguru's lap whenever possible, but now, he's unbearable unless you're sitting pretty in his. He doesn't even complain when you lose your temper and dig your little fangs (barely half the size of his - a poor imitation of a real predator's) into his arm, just grinning as he tugs at your ears and pinches your cheeks. He's not exactly a wild animal, but he's still at the top of his food chain. You're not quite a mouse, but you might as well be, compared to him.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's calling you his mate after less than a full month. You don't know what it means, often parroting it back as more of a question than a term of endearment, and Suguru just brushes it off as Satoru being deliberately irritating. He keeps it up, though. even after you start refusing to respond to it.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who starts introducing you to new "games". You know you don't stand a chance against him, but somehow, he always manages to goad you into roughhousing, into squirming as he pins you under his full weight. He likes to dangle things above your head, to see how long it takes your instincts to get the best of you before your chest is pressed against his and you're pouting so adorably as you jump and bat at his hand. Sometimes, when you fall asleep mid-grooming session, he'll let his mouth wander lower than it should, and you'll wake up to his tongue lapping over your chest, his face buried between your thighs in a way that leaves you teary-eyed and warm. You've tried to tell Suguru, but you always get embarrassed and end up mumbling something as vague as 'Satoru's being mean to me, again.' In the end, Satoru only ever gets a slap on the wrist and a new reason to tease you, next time Suguru turns his back.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who fucks you whenever Suguru isn't home. He planned on waiting for your first heat (delayed by your shelter suppressants and the stress of a new home), and he knows he's not supposed to, but he just can't get enough of having your smaller body curled up underneath his, your tail thrashing from side to side as he lazily rolls his hips against yours. You tend to whine, at first, to go on and on about how weird it feels and how much it hurts, but as soon he gets his cock inside of you, all those complaints tend to go away. It's almost funny, how easily your stupid little kitty mind gets all hazy and cockdrunk. He always loves you, but he loves you most when you're drooling and purring for his cum, begging him to breed you properly between hitched moans.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's not even mad when Suguru catches him bouncing your half-conscious, fucked-out body on his cock. He wants to be the best possible mate for you, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't willing to show you off <3

[izvmimi]

Katsuki handles you extremely gently for the most part, which is why when you find yourself at the tail end of play-wrestling in the midday on Saturday, wrists bound together in a firm, one-handed grasp and a leg locked against him at the hip, you’re a bit surprised. Your lips form into a soft ‘o’ as you let out a pant; conversely, his breathing is still, having not exerted very much effort, but you can practically feel his heart pound in his chest.

Or possibly it’s wishful thinking, given the way your own heart races.

Katsuki pauses for a moment, then dips in close, kissing your forehead.

“Had enough?” he asks.

“What if I said no?” you quip. In reply, his face buries in the crook of your neck and he snorts softly.

“Why don’t we make love, not war?” 

You’d admonish him on the cheesiness of the statement, but you don’t have the energy to. By now, Katsuki has relaxed his hold on your wrists and your leg, but you let your thighs and calves find new positioning wrapped around his waist as he lowers his weight onto you. He’s heavy, but it’s a familiar, comfortable heaviness that keeps you warm.

“Don’t like roughhousing with you,” he murmurs softly, still unmoving. Your bodies breathe in and out together, and you let yourself hold him even closer, hooking your left arm around his neck gently and running your right through his hair. 

Perhaps somewhere this is another form of a wrestling lock, but you’re decidedly loving, letting fingers trace between the blonde spikes to scratch his scalp.

Katsuki appreciates your softness just as much as your feistiness at times, and perhaps the former he needs a little more at this time.

You lay together for a moment, remembering when you sparred for real once years ago while at UA, and how quickly he folded.

Perhaps you cheated, you think as you conjure up the memory.

…

Paired together for sparring despite your friends’ apprehensive looks, you take up the challenge gladly. Light on your feet, the two of you move in concert towards and away from each other quickly as you trade blows - a narrow dodge of a punch with a sidestep. You grab his hand, and Katsuki’s surprise emboldens you as you plant your foot firmly on the ground and use your momentum to throw him over your shoulder.

Collective gasps abound from your watching classmates as Katsuki hits the ground, hard. You smile once he’s quick to jump back to his feet, wider still as he grumbles out loud.

“You’re so goddamn sneaky.”

He resumes a fighting stance. The ring is relatively small, a chalky circle about 8 bodies in diameter, but he still hasn’t fallen out of bounds. Red-faced, he’s lunged at you again (Izuku in the crowd comments that he must be more upset that he can’t use his quirk than the fight itself) and you sidestep him once more before tripping him. He loses his balance just for a moment, but jumps back into a back handstand then rights himself. 

He does look like he’s getting his ass kicked, but your friend heckles him first with the truth.

“He’s blinded by love, go easy on him!”

Aizawa shoots her a disapproving look, and your cheeks warm, but you don’t let yourself get distracted. You won’t know how right she is until later, anyway.

Time elapses - you block another heavy roundhouse kick that causes you to skid but you stay standing as you brace for impact, your heels digging into soft ground.

“I told you I won’t ever go easy on you,” Katsuki hisses. 

He follows this up with a leg sweep that has you tumble over him, and you somersault to regain control, but Katsuki has your leg by the ankle, pulling until you dangle for a moment, but you land a punch straight into his gut despite your upside down position.

Your friend screams again to ‘get his ass!’ amongst your classmates and gets another look from Aizawa. 

But Katsuki has let go with the force of the shock and you shoot backwards and prepare for an axe kick. He blocks, but for a split second he loses his resolve - the look on your face is fierce, and he remembers exactly why he has a crush on you.

The two of you jump back and separate to the opposite sides of the ring.

“If you don’t get serious, you’ll lose,” you tease.

“I’m going easy on you,” he finally claims, gruffly.

“You literally said otherwise 15 seconds ago.”

An ooooooo runs through the crowd that makes him scowl, and he takes off again with another lunge. You block, a move that makes Shoto shake his head at the bad choice, and you skid backwards from the sheer power behind the punch, making it almost closer to the borders of the ring. The subsequent onslaught is hard and you’re about to make it out of bounds.

Until you try a desperate move.

Leaning forward suddenly as if you were to kiss him, red blooms on his face, and he immediately backs off.

Izuku cups his face in his palms.

A leapfrog jump over him and a slight push, and he’s out of the ring, having fallen flat on his ass.

Denki, Sero and Kirishima don’t let him live it down for hours.

…

You definitely did cheat.

And perhaps in a way you are now, because he’s putty in your hands as he melts into you. 

But you’re no longer fighting, whether playful or not - teeth, tongue, lips don’t clash but rather dance and glide together; fingers and palms caress and worship each other in your joint embrace.

No power struggle between you two to be found anywhere - if anything perhaps in a way, you’ve always had the upper hand, being fully adored by him.

Regardless of how much stronger he is than you, whether it is in physical ability or will or resolve, he’d still very easily and consistently succumb to your love.

[nitadllyss]

Waking Up Next to Your Boyfriend

-Hyung Line x Reader -

Maknae line here

Genre: Fluff, Headcanon (too sweet)

Warnings: None

---------------------------------------

Bangchan:

• He has trouble sleeping, so when he finally does, he’s completely out. A sleepy koala .

• He’s always the big spoon.

• He unconsciously throws a leg over you and pulls you close with his arm whenever you move.

• When you check the time, you turn off anything that might make noise and go back to sleep, hoping he takes his time waking up so he can rest.

• Considering you woke up with Chan's fluffy hair and his pajama is basically no pajama, it's totally understandable that you didn't want it to end.

• When he finally opens his eyes and sees the time, he flinches a little. It’s late (well, actually, it’s early, but Mr. Workaholic doesn’t see it that way).

• But when he sees you, his heart skips a beat. You look so comfortable next to him.

• He doesn’t resist (not that he even tries) and showers your neck and jaw with kisses, whispering a deep, raspy "Good morning."

• You’re so asleep you barely understand what he’s saying. It’s honestly way too early for your brain to function properly.

• You manage to kiss his cheek just as he’s getting up to leave for work :(( .

• You know he’ll make it up to you with all the cuddles when he comes back.

• In the meantime, you bury your nose in the spot he left on the bed, inhaling that Chan scent.

---

Lee Know:

• At this point, the bed feels way too small.

• Minho is lying down, and you’re lying on top of him, your head resting on his chest. His arms wrap around your back and waist, his chin resting on your head. You’re practically fused together.

• Soongie is curled up on your back, purring contentedly.

• Doongie is sprawled out at Minho’s feet, belly up, deep asleep.

• Meanwhile, Dori is wide awake, tail flicking as he plots his next move. Suddenly, he pounces—straight onto your head—trying to catch Minho’s nose, waking both of you up in shock.

• You laugh in confusion while Minho just lazily drapes an arm over Dori, trying to keep him still, then drifts back to sleep.

• When you finally grab your phone to check the time, you’re surprised by how late it is and try to get up. But before you can leave the bed, Minho grabs your arm and pulls you back in.

"Just a little longer," he mumbles without even opening his eyes.

"Babe, I have to make breakfast," you say, completely mesmerized by how soft and relaxed his profile looks.

"If you stay five more minutes, I’ll help you make it," he says with a lazy smile. He knows he’s won—who would say no to a breakfast made by him?

• Those five minutes turn into a sleepy make-out session. You kiss his nose, jaw, forehead, chin, cheeks, the corners of his lips—before finally pressing small kisses on his lips.

• When his children (the cats) start getting fussy because they also want breakfast, you both have no choice but to get up.

• In the end, he ends up making the whole breakfast while you feed the cats.

---

Changbin:

• He’s a soft, fluffy ball of curls—the cutest and coziest thing you’ll ever see.

• He’s asleep on your chest, his hand resting against your ribs, securing his spot.

• He won’t say it, but he loves sleeping like this because the sound of your heartbeat soothes him. It’s his favorite lullaby.

• Your hand never stops running through his hair. If you stop, he’ll probably let out a grumpy little growl in protest.

• When it’s time to wake up, he clings to you even tighter, mumbling in a pouty tone, "Just a little longer..."

• He doesn’t give you a choice. Every time you try to move, he buries his face deeper into your chest and tightens his grip around your side.

• After a while, your hand drifts down to his face, replacing the hair-stroking with soft caresses on his cheeks. You’re definitely trying to get something.

• "Binnie, baby . We have to get up for breakfast," you whisper sweetly.

• He lets out another grumpy groan, and just as he’s about to complain, his stomach growls in sync.

• Maybe breakfast doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all...

---

Hyunjin:

• He’s a mess.

• He’s completely sprawled out—one arm stretched above his head, the other tangled in your hair. His wrist is probably numb by now.

• One knee is bent in one direction, the other leg is draped over yours.

• He sleeps with his mouth slightly open and changes position every ten minutes.

• First, he turns and clings to you like a koala. Then he buries his face in your neck. Then he rolls over and gives you his back. But he misses you, so he wraps himself around you again.

• He’s a beautiful disaster.

• When he cracks one eye open to check the time, he realizes it’s late but just shuts his phone off and decides to go back to sleep. (He’s not lazy, he’s just way too comfortable.)

• Before drifting off again, he stares at you, completely captivated—memorizing every detail, every little movement you make in your sleep. He’s definitely going to draw you later.

• But his intense gaze wakes you up.

• His eyes widen, and he immediately whines, "No, no, no. Go back to sleep. We’re still sleeping."

• Like a spoiled kid, he pouts, pushing his bottom lip out. When you insist it’s late, he sulks even more.

"You just want to go to work because you don’t want to stay with me. You’re heartless."

• In the end, the drama queen makes an appearance, as always.

• Somehow, you manage to wiggle out of his hold.

• When you return with his iced coffee and he sees you getting ready for your shower, reality finally hits him.

• Grumpily, he drags himself out of bed, accepting that responsibilities exist.

---------------------------------------

This is my first Headcanon! I hope I did it right.💗

English is not my first language, so let me know if you spot any mistakes 🙏🏻.

[calcifiedunderland]

The Prefect’s Kiss~!

—When a Night Raven College housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia x gn! Reader

Riddle, Azul, Kalim ver.

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Leona Kingscholar

💛 “Are you sure he’s under a sleeping curse?” you asked, before Crowley shoved you through the Savanaclaw mirror without a second thought. You were left with more questions than answers. Namely, could you actually be his true love? It wasn’t like Leona really showed a lot of affection to anybody really. Sure, he didn’t chase you away when you bothered him in the greenhouse. And you supposed that he did help you a lot on your homework, even though he grumbled under his breath.

💛 Your own crush on Leona was painfully obvious. Sometimes you’d go out of your way to the greenhouses, or take some tasks from Ruggie to deliver things to him. You tried to keep your feelings in check. Despite his laid-back attitude and nonchalance, he was still a prince. And you were just a herbivore, as he always reminded you. Too bad you’d pout and look away every time - otherwise, you’d notice the soft look on his face when he called you that nickname.

💛 As you walked through the common room, you saw how panicked Jack looked, tail thumping against his legs. Ruggie lead you to Leona’s room without a single joke or clever comment, You noted how agitated he looked - his hair was a mess from running his hands through it.

💛 To be honest, if you didn’t know otherwise, you would’ve thought Leona was fine. But the moment you stepped foot into his room, you didn’t hear Leona’s light snores or see his chest moving as he breathed. He was completely still.

Sunlight streamed in, catching on Leona’s hair. You brushed some of it aside, thumbing one of his braids absently, “how long has he been like this?”

Ruggie sighed heavily, carding a hand in his disheveled hair. “Not sure. We… we all thought he was just napping.” He swallowed thickly, “just… get me if you need me. I have to wash his laundry.” You watched as Ruggie hefted a basket and left. Your attention went back to Leona.

“You’ve got everybody so worked up,” You bit your lip, surprising yourself as your eyes began welling up. “You’d probably think it’s funny. But I…” You gulped. “…miss you.”

You took a deep breath and softly slotted your lips against his. For an agonizing moment you thought it didn’t work. Until Leona groaned. “Hhh- hmm?” You pulled away quickly.

Leona’s ears twitched, and you felt yourself grow flustered when you made eye contact. You gawked, “I-it worked?” He shifted upright, giving you a lazy smirk. “Huh, never took you for the romantic type, Prefect. You went straight for True Love’s Kiss.”

You felt your face grow hot, but you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. Relief filled you, and you felt yourself relax as Leona loosely wrapped you in his arms. “Yeah whatever, you lazy lion.”

His hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. He brought his forehead to yours with a soft grin, “Ha, you really are just a herbivore,” he said fondly.

Vil Schoenheit

💜 The moment Rook burst into your dorm, Crowley suddenly vanished. Before you could react, Rook was already leading you down to the Mirrors, bringing you up to speed on what happened. The nervousness didn’t really set in until Rook began singing when you entered the dorm, “finally! Le Roi du Poison’s savior has arrived!”

💜 Apparently, Vil thought he was drinking apple juice from the fridge, but it was actually Epel’s mislabeled draught that he made as his potion. Oh how the tables had turned. At least Epel knew it worked. Task failed successfully?

💜 Everything you learned in Crewel’s class about Sleeping Death was swirling in your head. True Love was no small thing. Especially when it came to Vil. It didn’t matter that he seemed to soften whenever he looked at you, or that he paid extra attention to how you carried yourself. Or how often he had ‘extra’ beauty products and clothes that just happened to be your size.

💜 Epel was looked dejected when you saw him, and looked away from you. Rook solemnly led you to Vil’s room, and bowed as he opened the door “True love will prevail, mon cher trickster! I have no doubt in your abilities!” Thanks Rook, you’re not helping. Look, (Y/N) is even more nervous now.

Even in sleep, Vil looked picture perfect. You quietly padded into his room, perching softly next to him. He laid on his back, and hands were clasped over his torso. It looked like a scene out of a movie, you thought.

You gently brushed some hair out of Vil’s face, “it’s so unlike you to make careless mistakes,” you said out loud. Silence hung in the air. “Even Epel wants you back, y’know.” You frowned, pursing your lips.

“I… I really hope this works,” your voice cracked. You didn’t know what you’d do if it didn’t. You never thought you’d actually kiss a celebrity, let alone Vil, but somehow you were here. “Please don’t be too mad at me if… when you wake up.”

You took a deep breath and softly kissed him. You gasped and pulled away when you heard him breathe deeply, and Vil’s eyes fluttered open. “Prefect? What are you doing here?” Vil sat up and you felt your mouth grow dry.

You rushed out, “you were under Sleeping Death, and Rook brought me here-!” Vil shushed you gently, “so, you gave me True Love’s Kiss as the antidote?” You nodded hesitantly. Vil gazed at you, looking thoughtful.

He took your chin, looking at your mouth. “Hmm, it seems your chapstick wore off. No matter, you can use mine.” You were about to thank him when he snatched a tube of balm off his nightstand. You watched, dumbfounded, as he applied it to his own lips before capping it.

“This formula is my own blend,” he said casually before looking back at you with a glint in his eye, “and I’ve been wanting to test how it transfers.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head so you’d look at him. He had a soft, fond smirk, “you’ll help me, won’t you?”

Idia Shroud

🩵 Halfway through Crowley’s speech about True Love, Ortho burst through Ramshackle and began dragging you to Ignihyde. You probably would’ve been upset at the intrusion (and the bill to fix the door), but the robot boy looked so devastated. “You have to save big brother!”

🩵 Apparently, Idia thought he was mixing energy drinks together but he ended up putting Sleeping Death in his drink. Through Ortho’s explanation, Idia was pregaming for an all nighter of farming for the new SSR he pulled, and put the wrong drink in his exhausted-gambling-victory haze. You couldn’t say you were surprised. One of the things you liked about Idia was how passionate he could get.

🩵 Whether it was gaming, tech, or programming, it was always a treat to get Ignihyde’s resident shut-in to talk to you, the ends of his hair turning blush pink. Whenever you visited, Idia always had your favorite snacks and drinks. It came to a point where he had a whole gaming setup made for you, with your own chair and headset.

🩵 The two of you would spend hours gaming, taking the occasional break to watch anime or do snack runs. Idia always seemed a little more inclined to get out of his room if it was with you. During those times, Ortho seemed to hum with excitement. Some days, Idia even lent you one of his hoodies after you begged. Now, the lights of Idia’s screens were off, and the room felt even colder.

The only lights in the room were Idia’s and Ortho’s hair, glowing a soft blue in the dark. Ortho hovered anxiously as you walked to Idia. His hair illuminated his face, and he looked almost like a marble statue.

You suddenly realized how long you’d been staring at him, and became aware of Ortho when you heard his joints clinking nervously. “Hey, Ortho,” you said soothingly, “could you wait outside for me? It’ll just be for a few minutes. I’ll do my best to help.” You tried to smile like you had everything under control, but as Ortho left, you suddenly felt the weight of the situation.

Like a moth to a flame, your attention drifted back to Idia. The light from his hair softly cast a blue glow on him, and you sighed softly. You brushed your thumb against Idia’s cheek, moving your face closer to his. “Please wake up,” you pursed your lips, “for Ortho. For… for me.” Softly you pressed your lips against his.

You pulled away with a small gasp, inches apart. Idia breathed in deeply, face scrunching up. His eyes slowly opened, blinking blearily. “H-huh? Prefect?!” Immediately, Idia’s hair whooshed in dark blue flames tipped with scarlet, “What are you doing so close to my face?!” You pulled back immediately, eyes wide.

Ortho zoomed back into the room, “I sensed movement! Big brother! You’re awake!~” Ortho looked up at you innocently, “it looks like you’re his True Love after all!” Idia stared at you for a second, then his hair turned dark pink. “Wh-WHAT?!” The room suddenly felt several degrees hotter. Or maybe that was just your flustered face. Still, Idia’s nervousness lessened when he saw your eyes shine at Ortho’s words.

“S-so, uh…” Idia chewed his lip, “do you wanna stay over tonight?” Ortho looked excited, “do you want to stay forever?” Idia choked, “Ack- ORTHO!”

Malleus Draconia

💚 Saying you were shocked was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that the Malleus Draconia was under a sleeping curse, and you ran to Diasomnia before the Headmage could finish speaking.

💚 You’d thought it was strange that he didn’t show up last night. As per tradition, you’d wait up for him each night and the two of you would walk the grounds, enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes, Malleus would do small magic tricks - summoning balls of light, fireflies, even conjuring some thornless crimson roses and tucking them behind your ears.

💚 You began to look forward to seeing him. You’d watch in awe with your eyes sparkling, and Malleus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this euphoric. And it was all thanks to you. So he’d try to show it through gifts. A dragon never parts easily with their treasures, but at this point, Ramshackle seemed like his second hoard. Though secretly, you were the most precious jewel there.

💚 When you got there, you saw Sebek wailing and Silver with a panicked look outside of Malleus’ room. “We’ve failed our duty! My Liege!” Sebek nearly broke your eardrums but you couldn’t find it in your heart to hush him. Silver nodded to you solemnly, and let you in the room. Lilia was with Malleus alone. You approached them silently, never taking your eyes off Malleus.

“How did this happen?” You whispered, sitting on the other side of the bed. . Lilia sighed, patting Malleus’ hands, “I’m not sure. He simply went to bed, and…” You bit your lip, feeling your eyes well up.

Lilia watched you carefully, frowning. “Did the Headmage tell you it was Sleeping Death?” You nodded, “h-he said I was…” you swallowed, “he said I could help.” You badly wanted to help.

You sniffled, tears running down your eyes onto Malleus’ cheeks. You whispered “Tsunotarou… you have to wake up,” before pressing your lips to his. You felt the slow rise and fall of his chest, and you slowly pulled away, hopeful. To your dismay, he stayed still, and you choked a sob, shoving your face into Lilia’s shoulder. “Try again, he should wake up soon” he whispered, patting you gently. You slotted your lips on Malleus’ again, closing your eyes.

You weren’t sure how long you were there. At last, Malleus stirred awake, and you pulled away with a gasp. He blinked twice, before realizing you were there. The small smile he gave you made your insides melt, “Child of Man,” he breathed, “to what do I owe this kiss to awaken me?” You sniffled, laughing as Malleus’ hand wiped away the last of your tears.

“I-I thought you weren’t going to wake up,” you wavered, “they told me I had to kiss you awake.” You weren’t completely coherent as you threw yourself on him, making him fall back into the mattress as you clutched him. He rubbed your back softly, hushing you. “Thank you,” he murmured, “this means more to me than you know.”

You sighed, relaxing against him. Slowly, you felt your eyelids grow heavy as the stress of the day wore on you. As you drifted off to sleep, Lilia watched you both with a small smile. “You know Malleus, they were worried about you. And Silver and Sebek were, too.” Lilia suddenly had a small mischievous smile, “perhaps I should use my electric guitar on you, like when I try to wake Silver?”

Malleus hummed as he held your sleeping form, “well, I suppose my ‘Power Nap,’ as you call it, did last longer than the average hour.”

———

Last part is up!!! Hope you enjoyed this is mini-series 😄

Comments, reblogs, and likes are forever appreciated!! Take care shrimpies~~

Xoxo Calci

[kyseya]

Yandere beast

This inspired by Beauty & the Beast.

————————————————

Yandere prince who has everything one could desire. He is royalty after all. There is nothing he cannot have and he is used to it being that way; the king and queen had spoilt him to no end.

Yandere prince who is mean and selfish. He treats everyone at the palace like dirt. He doesn’t even seem to carry much respect for his own parents. No, they’re used to give into his whims. The servants are all laughed at by him, he does not care when he sees the tears running down their faces at the cruel comments. His biggest talent may just be wickedness.

Yandere prince who does have one person he actually likes: you. You are the one exception. As the child of a servant, you too, were subjected to his bullying in the beginning. The people always had one of two reactions to him, either they stayed down and wept, or they started fuming. Both options were equally funny to the spoiled prince. However you surprised him, because you did neither. Whenever he was mean to you, you took it in silence before asking about his day. This bewildered him to no end. Why would you ask such things? It didn’t make sense. The more he bullied you though, the more intrigued he became. You were always kind, no matter the person; even to him. It was after that he decided he loved that about you.

Yandere prince who opened the door to a stranger. It was a heavy storm that night. If anyone were to be caught in it they would surely not survive. The stranger asked for shelter, and as payment the prince would receive a single rose. This made him scoff. The audacity some had. He turned them away as fast as they had come. Unfortunately for him this was no ordinary human. The stranger revealed themselves to be a magician. They told him they saw no love in his heart and therefore he should be punished for his cruelty.

That night his life changed for ever; now he was a monster. He sprouted fur all over his body, his nose grew into a long snout and a tail with spikes protruded from his lower back.

Yandere beast who has lost all his beauty. He was nothing other than hideous. Such a creature should surely be hidden out of sight. Not only did he lose his appearance that night, he also lost his status. The king and queen were horrified at his new form. This turn of event was not what they prepared for. Disgusted with him they sent him to a dreary little castle on the country side where no one would ever lay eyes on him.

Filled with despair he wallowed in shame; for his appearance and his situation. The only thing that could break the curse was if he learned to love someone and earn their love in return. Clearly, his parents did not believe the curse could be lifted, which was the reason they sent him away. They couldn’t have him at court anymore after all. Perhaps they were also glad to be rid of him once and for all.

Yandere beast who was all alone in his castle. He was left without servant or any gold. He was not used to a life without luxury. He thought he’d be alone forever and waste into nothingness, but he was surprised by you once more. You had come to the castle and chose to work there. When you’d told the king and queen of your decision they could not fathom why you would do such a thing when you were under no obligation to do it. You knew how horrible the prince was to all your colleagues, but you saw that underneath all that pride was an insecure young boy who wanted attention. It was not an excuse for his behaviour though. Still, your kindhearted nature made you want to help him.

Yandere beast who is elated with your presence. Now that he has company he is not as pessimistic. He always had a soft spot for you but now the fondness has turned into a full blown obsession. He loves you so much! When no one else was there for him and his life got turned into shamble, you stood by his side- willingly too! You weren’t frightened by his hideous form, no, you held his hand and stroked his snout without a care in the world. You were clearly the one to break the curse!

Yandere beast who does everything to make you fall for him and love him just as much as he loves you. Are you hungry? Good, because his transformation made him a great hunter! Are you in the mood for deer or rabbits? This monstrous prince can offer you a lot more than any normal prince or commoner human. No one can protect you as well as he can; his strength and sharp senses is the one upside to the curse. When the two of you marry, he’ll get back his title and whisk you away to a new castle. This one will be filled with the luxuries he bathed in before, and you’ll be forced to swim in them too whether you want to or not.

Could you ever love this beast?

[yourlokalescholar]

Oh my god wait. What if the blessings of the gods manifested physically? Like if a god takes an interest in you, EVERYONE is going to see it, for better or worse. And if you lose their favour? Everyone can see that, too

Jason with a peacock tail and feather-crest, both of which go faded and limp when he turns on Medea, so that they drag on the floor and get in the way

Pollux with eagle wings instead of arms, so Castor acts as his hands and that’s why they’re inseparable. When Castor dies and Pollux splits his immortality with him, they each get one arm and one wing, so one can’t fly without the other

Odysseus with a forked tongue and fangs—a subtle feature that he can hide when he needs to. When Athena feels like being helpful (like when she disguises him as a beggar) she’ll cast an illusion over it, but Penelope immediately recognises him by his lisp

When Athena gives Diomedes the blessing of seeing through the gods’ disguises, he also gets owl eyes and the ability to turn his head 180 degrees. This helps when Odysseus tries to stab him in the back on the Palladium heist

HERACLES WITH BULL HORNS. I have nothing to add I just think that sounds sick as hell

Helen grows beautiful golden feathers instead of hair. Nothing useful, just an obvious sign of her heritage that adds to her appeal to the suitors: whoever wins her hand gets to walk around with a physical symbol of Zeus’s favour

Atalanta with antlers that snap when she gets married, leaving jagged shards behind that won’t go blunt and can’t be sharpened down. She can have her husband, but he can’t touch her head without risking badly cutting himself. This can either be one final blessing or a curse depending on how consensual you interpret the marriage

Hector has pristine white raven wings, making him even more terrifying to the Achaeans, flying into battle like divine intervention, and a symbol of hope for the Trojans. Achilles plucks the feathers off his corpse, but they won’t stop growing back. Still, Achilles has a cloak made from them and wears it into battle, turning Troy’s symbol against them

Paris gets dove wings, but he tells everyone they’re too small to fly with because he’s a coward and doesn’t want to have the same responsibilities as Hector. Then he flies away from the duel with Menelaus in front of the entire army, and that’s when Troy finally loses what’s left of their respect for him

[2tcs]

Day 2 Meeting a new family member and Wire

“My brother has moved to Gotham and I intend to visit them tonight as Robin.” Damian announced as everyone began to eat dinner.

“You have. A brother?” Tim haltingly asked as he looked at Damian.

“Tt. That is what I said. I advise not attempting to contact him unless he invites you into his home.”

“Damian. Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” Bruce asked.

“It was irrelevant. Danyal is older than me and had been deemed a failure by the time Mother and Grandfather decided to make me. I had been under the impression that he had been disposed of. In a way, I suppose he was, seeing as he was placed in the hands of some scientists who worked for the league.”

“But he’s back. Do you know what he wants?” Tim asked as Bruce disassociated.

“He would not go into detail but it seems that the scientists who raised him have found a purer and more radioactive Lazarus water. It is why I am meeting him tonight so he can turn over the more sensitive information without the league hearing about it.”

“Damian.” Bruce started before rethinking what he was going to say. “I would like to come with. He may be your brother but he is also an unknown.”

“I am aware Father. That is why I am telling you now. You cannot come with me but I will stay in contact and keep the com channel open throughout the entire exchange.”

“I would still prefer”

“Father. You will not come with. Danyal has expressly forbade you from meeting him.”

“That makes this even more suspicious! If not me then at least bring Dick with you.”

“Richard is in Bloodhaven and will not be able to get here in a timely manner. I am going alone.” Damian said before standing up and walking off.

“Damian!”

“Give it a rest B. He’s on a mission and I have a feeling he’ll go alone no mater what you say. If anything we could try to tail him but I have a feeling he’ll be on the lookout for that.”

“Hn.”

👻🦇👻🦇

“Akhi. You have fortified this place well.” Damian complimented as he walked into the office of the warehouse where Danny had made his base. It had been years since Danny had looked into the child that was meant to replace him after he failed one too many missions for Grandfather's liking. But to see that his little brother had managed to escape the league made Danny’s core hum happily.

“Thank you, Dams. But we aren’t here for pleasantries.” Danny said as he walked over to the single desk in the room and pulled a thick file out of one of the drawers. “In here is a brief rundown of the Fenton's research as well as a law that has recently passed that is in violation of”

Before Danny could finish talking there was a loud crash and a string of expletives.

“What the fuck! Who puts two wire traps mere inches from each other!” The voice shouted before the sound of a body hitting the floor. A few moments later the voice started yelling again as they fell into another trap.

“A friend of yours Dams?” Danny asked while he watched the door.

“A member of our family. Unfortunately. I had told Father not to come and I was hoping the fact that it was in Crime Allie would discourage Drake. I had not counted on Father getting Todd involved.” Damian sighed before walking over to the folder.

“As long as he does not wake up the littles I could care less. Perhaps we should help him out?” Danny asked. Not noticing Damian’s head snapping up to stare at him.

“Littles? You did not inform me of anyone else.”

“Hm. Long story short? You are an uncle to two little ones.”

“ALL RIGHT! WHO SET UP ALL THOSE… Demon brat. I should have known.” Red Hood said as he barged into the office. Causing twin crys to echo from a door on the opposite side of the main door. “Are those?”

“Yes, and your entrance has just woken up my kids. Dams? I have also left a number in the folder if you need to contact me. I will be off now.” Danny said as he began to walk towards the door the cries were coming from.

“There is a family brunch every Wednesday at ten in the morning. I request you to be there so that I can meet the new members of our family. Father would also like to meet you.” Damian said while ignoring Jason’s stuttering.

“I will think about it. Until next time Dams.” Danny replied before disappearing through the door.

[everand1r]

Out of their league

Can’t help but think of some of the boys with a s/o who is so out of their league lmao

Gn reader, reader is taller than riddle and Lilia and there is a mention of their chest in riddles part.

Riddle

I’m a firm believer of riddle being attracted to a taller person

Not only is your height attractive, but the way you carry yourself leaves him in awe.

As much as I believe in riddle loving tall people, I feel he would be a bit insecure of his height. Riddle had always been a commanding presence on campus, his reputation turning his students into model citizens when he’s around.

But when he’s with you? All that dominance leaves his body. You love to lean down to tease him, or to rest your head on his, but your favorite is when you lift his chin with your fingers to meet his eyes. He pretty much blue screens on the spot, but be careful with your teasing or he’ll reprimand you.

Kinda hard to take him seriously when his face is flushed red and he can barely look you in the eyes. His height giving him a perfect view of your glorious assets. Yeah he’s not fooling anyone, everyone on campus can tell he’s wrapped around your finger.

Ace

How the hell did this happen

You’re everything he’s just ken ngl sorry ace I love you

Every time he shows you off everyone wonders how the hell did someone like you end up with someone like him.

Like he’s knows you’re hot and way out of his league but cmon! He’s not that bad!

You obviously fell for his lovable and boyish charm!

Anytime someone flirts with you Ace will swoop in and wrap his arm around your waist, telling them you’re taken and to get lost.

“You? You???” They laugh in his face.

He gets so offended

Poor Ace. Pepper his face in kisses, let him know you find him so attractive and he’s back to normal.

Leona

You immediately left an impression on him. When he snapped at you for stepping on his tail, you bared your fangs right back and went off on him for sleeping in such a walkable area.

Which isn’t a good first look but don’t worry he grows on you

You guys are in that relationship where you “argue” anytime you’re in the same room, but there’s obvious sexual tension between you guys… everyone is sick of you two like just make out already damn it! They wish they were him ;(

Your assertiveness and the way you hold your head high anytime you guys go back and forth is so attractive. Not that he’ll ever admit that mind you.

You could throw insult after insult to him, but that smirk and that fiery look in your eyes has him wanting to kiss you right then and there.

“God you’re insufferable!”

“Mhmm yeah and what else?” He’ll egg you on with that damn smirk of his.

One day you guys are gonna have to admit your feelings for each other. It’ll probably have to be you though, Leona is burying his feelings deep.

Anyways let’s just say no one on campus is surprised when one day they see you guys walking together on campus, hand in hand.

Idia

How the hell did this happen #2

The radiant, intelligent, borderline untouchable Ramshackle prefect with the housewarden of Ignihyde????

Yeah no one on campus believes this is real

Ortho is doing his best to convince others that Idia can be charming, sorry bud it’s not working, the students are placing bets on if the rumor is real or not.

As much as he loves you, going out is a real struggle

Heads turn in your direction no matter where you go. You have admirers everywhere on campus, to have that many eyes on him…. Yeah no he’ll leave his room another day… probably.

If you ever do go out anywhere together Idia will most likely hide behind you, which in turn will probably draw more attention but whatever.

Your fan club is ripping their hair out cause what do you mean you fell for him of all people?!?

He’s at a total loss if someone flirts with you. On one hand, he’d love to be your knight in shining armor. On the other hand, he’d have to directly confront someone without his tablet.

He’d be so relieved if you can handle it yourself. If not? Oh boy…. Make sure you have ortho on speed dial. Someone’s gonna have to come save y’all.

Lilia

You guys would have a pretty fun relationship. He ropes you into scaring others real quick, your reputation makes it easy to get away with a lot.

Getting scared by Lilia: (¬_¬)

Getting scared by you: ＿|￣|○

Unlike riddle, Lilia is quite secure with his height. In fact he loves the height difference between you two. He loves to wrap his arms around you as you bring up a hand to play with his hair.

The Diasomnia gang all love you so no problems there… although if you’re human sebek might be a bit iffy about it.

Maybe not for long as he greatly respects Lilia and also there isn’t much to dislike about you. Don’t worry though sebek will find a way /j

All that aside your relationship is quite cute. You could be doing literally anything and Lilia will watch you in adoration. He’ll sigh dreamily and rant about you to anyone who’ll listen.

They’re not. No one is listening to him, Everyone around him is gripping their pens in jealousy.

The same applies for you, lovingly staring at him as he goes about his day.

“Isn’t he lovely?” You sigh, gazing at Lilia as he nearly blows up the kitchen with his cooking.

Everyone is begging you to please teach him how to cook before he creates nuclear waste. 🙏🏽

[fanaroff]

DP X DC Prompt: It’s In The Cave

There’s an animal in the cave. At least, that’s the closest approximation. It cannot be caught on the cameras and any noises made only translate into static. Dicks says it’s green. Tim says it’s black. Stephanie insists it’s white. But Damian knows it’s all three.

The others can’t see it as well as Damian can, for the moment. It’s not a cat, but cat-like. It’s not a snake, it’s snake-like. There’s big, shining green eyes with their color not dissimilar from the Lazarus Pits. Tufts of flowing white hair white a body black body that trails off into a tail and pointed ears that flatten and raise. It looks alien. It looks like an animal. It feels familiar. Damian keeps it.

When it first appears, it’s only noticed at first because a few things are moved around in its haste to find shelter. That, and the little spots of green that trail after its first entrance inside. The green spooks them all, at first, thinking it’s Lazarus water. There are similarities, but it’s not quite the same. After a time, the green fades to red. There’s no recognizable DNA from any creature in it. They settle on it being an “alien.”

It’s always watching, always peeking. Snacks left for it are eaten quickly and sometimes vanish into thin air right in front of them. The longer they go without attacking it or trying to root it out, the more it seems to become comfortable with them. (Not for Damian’s lack of trying anyways.)

Dick tells him to “pspspsps” at it like a cat once, softly patting at the ground. When no one is around, he tries it while crouched between the cave wall and a piece of machinery he saw a movement between. The little thing “pspspsps” right back. He even sees a tiny paw with tiny claws mimicking his motions from under the machine. Damian decides right then and there that this thing will be protected.

Eventually, it starts getting comfortable enough to start showing itself more and soon they’re having to scoot it off of the keyboards in the Batcave. It’ll drag itself about, climb, and sling itself around their shoulders and gnaw with little teeth and claws on their gloves. (They go through gloves much quicker once this starts.) even Batman melts when it starts purring.

Originally, they were worried it was injured but after the time it was there, hidden, it seems to have healed from whatever it was. (Or they get to fawn over the little injuries and fix them up best as they can.)

It will only take food from Damian’s hands though and he lords this over the others with immense pleasure. Often, it can be seen wrapped around one of his hands and forearms like a snake, wiggling away and batting at its own tail-tip. Its growls sound like little blips of static and gargled nails.

Damian names him Phavadi (Marathi meaning that could mean a pickle or a mess, let me know if this is incorrect, it’s not my language.)

They aren’t able to find out what Phavadi is, at first. The Green Lanterns don’t recognize it. Martian Manhunter has never seen it and states that he is unable to read its mind. Like there is nothing there to grasp. (This starts a round of the birds cooing at Phav, calling him brainless, no braincells between them big ‘ol eyes, no thoughts head empty.) Starfire doesn’t know what he is, but is absolutely enamored.

It starts floating. That’s surprising, but also not. They knew Phav has some powers, it could go invisible after all. Gravity has no hold and now it happily makes its nests on top of their heads. When Phav somehow floats his way into the manor, this starts a frantic chase through the mansion to catch it and Phav thinks it’s a game. Winking in and out of existence, waving its tail from a chandelier. When Dick makes it up there to grab it, Phav just plops to the ground scaring the shit out of everyone. Uninjured, thankfully. Phav scoots off into the kitchen and is caught by a heavily scolding Alfred.

Sufficiently cowed, Phav is returned to Damian and the little thing starts sleeping in his room.

They don’t know that this entire time Phav has been following them on their patrols. Staying out of sight but watching with glowing eyes to make sure they’re all safe. An in-grained confusing feeling.

It’s when there’s a big-bad that things come to a head. The entire Justice League is called in and eventually Justice League Dark. The Robins insist on helping as well, they need all hands on deck.

Mid battle, Damian is about to take a hit he can’t dodge.

This can go one of multiple ways—

Angsty: little baby man Phav takes the hit and gets pretty injured. Left limp and unmoving to the distress of everyone. Constantine, seeing this thing is like “Oh. Oh shit. That’s a baby eldritch. That is an INJURED baby eldritch we are so FUCKED.” Because he knows that with this happening, its momma is about to come soon. Phav’s form starts to destabilize, little body starting to goop into a puddle of green. Damian is distraught. All he’s left with is a light blue, cold, glowing orb the size of a marble.

Ghost King: Suddenly, tiny Phav isn’t so tiny anymore. He’s grown to the size of a two story house, hunched and hissing. Eyes wildly glowing, claws out and very large, teeth dripping green, tail long and curled around his bats and robins. Constantine, upon seeing this, shouts “YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU HAD A BLOODY FUCKING ELDRITCH??!”

Feel free to add more or use this!