Jay

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

[runneski]

“Grief is very sneaky. A sound. A scent. A song. A smile becomes tears.” —Art of poets

𖨠──··· ONESHOT ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ 🦋 ་༘࿐

╰┈➤Pairing: Sokka x reader

a/n: oh the good old days when I was twelve years old and writing oneshots on wattpad and 500 words for me was a big ass accomplishment.

Summary: You’re a beautiful woman who just arrived to the southern water tribe and Sokka can’t stop thinking about you.

wc: 4.4K

Contains: fluff, little bit of angst, pathetic pining, yearning(I think), soft Sokka, reader has a brother, bad writing, no beta we die like men.

⤷ ゛ ᯓ★ ˎˊ˗ 𓏲ּ𝄢 . . . START NOW .ᐟ.ᐟ

The first time Sokka saw you was at the welcoming ceremony for new residents in the southern Water Tribe. It wasn't as if it was his or his father's custom to greet everyone who arrived, because since the tribe's restoration, too many people had been coming.

The truth is, they were waiting for someone, though he didn't even remember who. All he remembered from that day was getting up, going to the port, and suddenly, there you were.

Your gaze was curious, which... he assumed was normal when arriving to a new place. But you walked cautiously, and behind your eyes, there was even a hint of pain. Although, he was probably exaggerating, or it was simply his own prejudice based on how people looked. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to approach you and your sad eyes gave him a great one.

In fact, he almost did approach you.

"That's a married woman, Sokka," he heard his father say, and the younger boy stopped abruptly.

He hadn't even noticed it. Around your neck, a... very distinctive betrothal necklace. The design wasn't very clear from a distance, but the message was. You were off limits.

The dark-haired boy looked at his father and dared to feigned confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dad," he said. Obviously, he lied.

Hakoda looked at his predecessor with a raised eyebrow, completely incredulous. However, he let it go and turned his gaze to find the person they were waiting for.

Sokka had to restrain himself from turning in your direction again; he doubted his father would give him another chance to lie so miserably to his face.

"He's coming," he heard his father say.

The older man started walking, but Sokka lagged behind for a moment, taking advantage of the distraction... he turned to look.

He looked and looked. He really did, but you were gone.

Sokka sighed sadly and hurried to follow his father. Perhaps that was for the best. After all, you were married. It was ridiculous to even think about approaching you with the intention of getting to know you.

Hopefully, he wouldn't see you again.

The southern water tribe, in its rebuilding, had grown and improved considerably. With architectural structures far more modern than the... humble tents they used to use and called home.

And just like said, it dud. After that day he never saw you again. Three days later, he didn't even remember what had happened... at all. Weeks later, he definitely wasn't thinking about it.

One month.

A month later, while working in his workshop, perfecting one of his projects(technically finished, but he liked to be extraordinary) so, it wasn't quite ready. Not yet. It would be soon. The truth was, he was proud of this piece; there were even interested buyers already.

Then, he heard someone knocking on wood behind him. It was probably the board he kept putting off throwing away, because he swore he'd need it someday.

He turned around, and his breath got caught in his throat.

"Ah... hi," you murmured, glancing behind you with a doubtful expression. "Um... I recently moved, a few houses down... uh, my door's locked, I think. The point is, it won't open, and I can't get in," you explained.

The problem was that… Sokka didn't answer. He just stared at you, waiting for you to disappear again. Like at the port.

But you didn't. You were there. Again. Wearing the same necklace that told him everything he needed to know about you. That you were beautiful, though the necklace didn't tell him that(obviously). Oh, and that you were married. That’s what the necklace told him. Again.

"Well..." you added, frowning slightly, and glanced around, even taking a step back to check outside before looking back at him. "One of the ladies told me there was a workshop with someone who could help me. I assumed it was here." You said, raising your hand to change the subject. "And I guess I was wrong. Sorry."

At that moment, he was finally able to react. He moved so quickly that the piece he was holding slipped from his grasp, and he cursed under his breath as he bent down to pick it up.

Sokka looked in your direction to confirm you were still there, and you were. Probably surprised by the sudden movement.

Which clearly caused a suspicious grimace from you.

You were cautious. Which was excellent. He was the one who kept making a fool of himself in front of you.

"I'm sorry about that," he said to fill the silence. You nodded and were about to continue on your way, but he stopped you. "Yes, it's me... by the way, i can help you with that," he added.

You turned around.

"Just... give me a moment," he murmured.

And so, he ended up walking to your home.

It wasn't too far from the workshop; it was a surprise you hadn't bumped into each other before. You even lived right across the street from one of the kids who always came to watch what he was doing.

As usual, Sokka first tried to open the door the old-fashioned way. This wasn't his first time doing this (though he usually only helped old ladies who forgot to push instead of pull, or vice versa). When the door did have a problem, it wasn't unusual for it to jam and then magically fix itself.

This time, that wasn't the case. However, the problem didn't seem to be the door either.

"It's more like something's blocking it," he said in a low voice and tried to push it again. The door opened slightly, but stopped halfway. So it was definitely blocked.

He heard you sigh wearily and turned to look at you.

"The bookshelf," you said, placing a hand on your forehead. "Its leg finally wore down, and it probably fell over."

Sokka nodded and looked around the house.

"Is anyone home?" he asked before turning to look at you. You shook your head. It was kind of obvious there wasn’t, you wouldn’t have looked for him if they were. "You wouldn't happen to have a window open, would you?"

You both looked at each other for a moment, and you looked away thoughtfully.

"...no?"

He sighed and bit his lower lip before asking.

"You think it's okay to knock down a window?"

Silence enveloped you again, but it was brief, and you pointed at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You'll fix it?" you questioned.

"It's only fair," he replied.

Your expression turned playful, and you moved slightly closer to him, leaning in his direction with renewed interest.

"For free?" you asked in a soft, low, but confident tone.

You were... playful. Besides being beautiful and undeniably sweet, you were also playful.

He couldn't help but smile. Again. Though it wasn't like he was really trying not to. He couldn’t.

"For free."

So, two hours later, the bookshelf was out of the way. He'd also repaired the leg and fixed the shelves, which looked worn (the bookcase in general looked old and now also a bit odd, thanks to the new wood. However, you didn't complain). Finally, the window, as promised, was repaired too... on top of everything else.

"Thank you so much," you said with a small smile. He nodded casually, and as he gathered his tools, he heard you walk away. "How much is it for everything?" And then you added playfully, "Without the window."

He chuckled slightly before he could answer.

"Don't worry," he said.

He usually didn't charge anyone. At least not for jammed doors. It was easy and a minor issue.

You didn't have to pay for the cabinet and the extra wood he used, since he'd voluntarily decided to fix it. You hadn't said anything when he offered to do it.

Besides, he wasn't starving. He could live without his allowance.

"Well, then, consider it a gift." You insisted, and he sighed with a smile.

"Very well." He accepted, took the coins, and absentmindedly put them in his pocket. "I'm leaving now."

"I'll walk you."

And like you said, you followed him to the entrance. He tried to restrain himself from turning around, but he couldn't help but say goodbye.

He loved seeing you. It was truly a problem.

"Sokka, Sokka, Sokka!"

Small, tender, and still-developing voices approached, calling his name, distracting the two of you, who turned to see who could be calling with such desperation.

Although Sokka knew those little voices perfectly.

"Can you make us another boat?" asked one of the children, Nilak, who was the first to arrive.

"No! Two," Kayo pleaded, arriving second..

"No! You didn't lose yours," Nilak complained and he could be incredibly intense when he thought he was right.

Koko arrived last; she was Nilak's sister and usually the only one who didn't torment Sokka. Until she decided it was a good idea to use her waterbending in his workshop and ended up getting everything wet and soaked.

Including him.

"Didn't I make one for each of you last week?" Sokka asked, looking at the children with a raised eyebrow, knowing (or guessing) what had happened to Nilak's toy boat.

He heard you laugh from the doorway. Your laugh was contagious and sweet. It was ridiculous how much of an effect you had on him when he'd only seen you a couple of times and you'd only interacted for a few hours.

Hours in which you didn't even talk much. You kept to the bare minimum, yet you were undeniably charming, and he was completely smitten. Because, he still had to remind himself, you were a married woman.

Your laughter caught the children's attention, and they casually approached you, waving sweetly.

You crouched down in front of them with a friendly smile.

"Are you Sokka's girlfriend?" Koko wondered sweetly.

“I’m surprised anyone would love him.” Kayo said instead and looked at you with deep curiosity.

He froze for a moment, his pride feeling very much attacked, but he wasn’t going to reprimand Kayo for that. At least not yet. Actually, he was going to figure out another way to punish that little traitor.

But you laughed again.

"No, but my name is y/n," you said instead. "And you are?"

"Koko," the little girl replied and then pointed to her brother. "This is Nilak, and he doesn't like to bathe."

"That's a lie! Liar!" the little boy retorted, pushing her.

Both you and Sokka separated the children before they started actually arguing.

"Hey, don't push your sister. It's not right," you said gently, but firmly. "You should respect and love her."

"But she's mean to me."

"Nothing excuses mistreatment, Nilak," you added and then you looked at Koko. “Don’t spread lies about your brother. It’s not nice and he doesn’t like it.”

Both kids looked a little bit upset and groaned before grudgingly saying: “I’m sorry” simultaneously.

Sokka couldn't help but think you would be a very good mother.

You didn't have children; he could tell from his time in the house. But whoever your husband was... he had a great wife. He hoped that the man knew that, next time, no furniture would get to that level of wear and tear.

It was inexplicable how a man would allow a bookcase like that to get into such a state. In fact, several pieces of furniture in the house were excessively worn, which was truly unacceptable. Yet he said nothing. It wasn’t his place.

Many extraordinary women ended up with men who didn't appreciate them, and honestly, Sokka hoped you weren't one of them.

"I'm Kayo," said the boy who had been left out of the conversation, and you drew him into the circle. "You're cute, shall we get married?"

Sokka was certain that these kids were going to be the reason his heart stopped beating someday. It was simply a fact.

The following days passed quickly. But this time, they were filled with you. He went from never seeing you to seeing you everywhere.

The worst part was that he couldn't ignore you. It was physically impossible for him.

But it was also physically impossible for him to ignore the necklace you wore every day. It wasn't like he wanted to flirt and start something with you; he wasn't going to become your secret lover, regardless of the circumstances.

The problem is that these kinds of feelings can only end... badly.

And he was ready to crash and burn. Because he couldn't walk away from you. He simply couldn't.

He wanted to hear you laugh all the time. To talk until there were no words left in the vocabulary and to watch you until he understood why artists have muses and poets wrote about love.

Now, there was one detail he couldn't stop thinking about, and that was the fact that he had never seen your husband.

Not once. Not even once in all this time he has been seeing you around. It was like he didn’t even existed.

But he was grateful and curious, but grateful overall. Because not having seen him all this time was both a relief and his own kind of torture. He was dying to know who the man was, but at the same time, he had no interest whatsoever.

Putting a face to the man who had been lucky enough to make you his wife was simply something he preferred to avoid. Although a part of him, deep down, was very curious.

He really needed to get you out of his head and today, seemed like a perfect day to do. Today there was a celebration, of what? He didn’t know. Life! (Whatever, he didn’t care. He just wanted to get you out of his mind desperately.) It was a celebration, it didn’t happened often, but it did happen and today was happening. That was it.

Sokka was standing next to his father, Hakoda, who was engrossed in conversation with two other men. The truth was, Sokka wasn't paying them any attention, and he was more of a nobody in that conversation.

He took a sip of his drink as he looked around. It was a habit he'd picked up during the war, when he was still with Aang and the others and they had no idea if they'd survive another day.

Some would call it trauma; he liked to believe he had the soul of a warrior.

It was then that he saw you in the distance. By this point, he was used to the brief pause his body made, as if it needed to recover every time he saw you.

He finished his drink in one gulp and decided to approach. But then, he noticed you weren't alone.

He also noticed you were happy and laughing openly with... a man.

He was... tall, dark-haired, and had long, black hair. Quite long, longer than usual. Gray eyes, though they almost looked blue; but they were gray and within the parameters of what women usually considered attractive. Well, he was.

Under other circumstances, none of those things would have stopped him. After all, you could talk to whomever you wanted.

What made him stop was the fact that you seemed close.

Finally, your husband had a face.

"Sokka."

The boy turned to look at his father, who was staring at him seriously. The two men he had been talking to before seemed to have left.

"I'm not doing anything," he complained petulantly. Sometimes Hakoda still treated him like a child, which he hadn't been for quite some time. Though, he was definitely acting like it.

"You need to stop thinking about that woman," the older man told him, and Sokka simply rolled his eyes wearily.

"I'm not thinking about her," he muttered.

"I know, son. I know," the man replied, and his son shot him a reproachful look.

However, Sokka had nothing to reproach him for. His father was right; he had known it from the beginning, and yet, he still wanted to... well.

He didn't even know what he wanted.

And yet he still couldn't bring himself not to look again.

This time, your eyes met, and he was honestly a little embarrassed by it. Especially since you greeted him cheerfully and even asked him to come closer, but he didn't.

The man next to you said something that made you look at him and nudge him with your elbow, though you laughed again. So, it was at that moment that he knew he'd seen enough.

Your husband did exist. Had a face, was very real and he had to stop thinking about you.

But life seems to hate him and kept throwing you at him everywhere he went.

A few days later, you passed by his workshop, where he really couldn't ignore you.

It's not like you deserved to be ignored. From the beginning, he knew you were married, and yet he still gave in to the attraction he felt for you, even if he wasn't going to do anything about it.

It didn't make it hurt any less.

"Hey," you said politely, and he turned to look at you, but said nothing. Which... was unfair. "Ahh... I can come back later if you're busy." You muttered.

He wasn't even doing anything, and it was obvious.

He was sitting, almost reclining, with his legs up on the workbench. He had a small mechanism which, purely for amusement, he was disassembling, only to reassemble it again.

"No, it's fine," he said instead, placing the mechanism on the table as he straightened up in his seat before standing up completely.

You nodded uncomfortably, placing your hands in front of you and pressing them down, looking around in a position that seemed awkward and strange and really uncomfortable.

"What do you need?" he asked.

You turned to look at him suddenly, as if the question itself had caught you off guard. You even remained silent for a moment, as if you needed to think of a reason why you were there.

Which didn't make sense; people didn't visit workshops for no reason.

Unless they were children, and even they didn't visit without a reason.

"I was wondering if you make tables," you said.

"Excuse me?"

You bit your lower lip, your neck seemed to get a little bit reddish, your eyes avoided his. It was a complete sight of emotional distress. You were embarrassed and he was very curious to know why.

"I'll take that as a no," you continued. "It's just that the bookcase you made turned out so...nice. I thought I'd ask you for a...new table. The one I have is...very worn. You know. Like...almost all my furniture." Your tone grew lower and lower, and you looked away, even nervously tugging at a strand of hair. “I know you noticed, it’s very obvious.”

He has never seen you act so peculiarly. Usually, it was the other way around.

"I could do that," he said in response to your chatter. “The table.”

"Oh... that's... very kind of you," you replied, and the dark-haired man nodded.

Silence enveloped you again, and he was about to ask if you wanted to start the plans now or if you needed anything else. He was deciding which of the two was wiser to ask when you spoke again.

"Well... ahm… I have to go now. Sorry to interrupt. Um... I'll come back... one of these days-uh, to talk about the piece of furniture,"

"Table," he corrected, somewhat confused.

"The table, yes. Exactly," you replied.

His brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything else and simply let you go. It was wiser to just let you go.

When he was alone again, he let out a groan as he covered his face. Escaping you was going to be impossible.

Even, right the next day, he went to the market. He needed food, like anyone else, and he couldn't keep going to his grandmother's to procrastinate on doing the shopping (all because the woman had already scolded him enough times, regardless of the fact that she always made him the meals).

It would have been a fairly quiet and boring outing, but... he ran into you again.

You were playing with the children, who were running around freely, and you seemed to be chasing them with a little (a lot) of more care.

You were laughing freely, and there was something different about you. You looked... more relaxed and at ease. He had no idea what had made such a drastic difference, but he was glad you were happy.

Like every other time he noticed you were.

Then he noticed.

You weren't wearing the necklace.

He shook his head.

It must have broken or something, and your husband was making another one.

Because that was the only logical explanation.

However, the following days that he continued to see you, you still didn't have a new one. Weeks, in fact. He even finished the new table, and you still didn't have a new necklace! He was going to lose it, seriously.

Now, you both placed the new table where the old one used to be. It looked good; in fact, the house in general looked much better. Less worn, with new things, and more... personal.

It suited you more in some way.

"You've changed the place a lot," he said. “Since last time, I mean.” He over explained. Unnecessarily.

"Yes," you replied with a small smile and looked around before taking a breath and glancing at him sideways. "I thought it was time for a little change. Well, a big change. My brother suggested it too." You shrugged.

He frowned and turned to look at you right after you said that.

"You have a brother?"

"Yes! The one from the celebration. I would have introduced you, but you seemed busy." You replied, raising an eyebrow. Still smiling, but confused by his reaction. "Why?" You wondered.

The dark-haired man simply shook his head and chuckled slightly, though it wasn't funny at all.

"Sokka?" You called him, questions being asked in your whole expression.

"Nothing, I just... thought he was your husband." He answered softly with a strained smile and scratched the back of his neck.

"My what?"

Your tone completely caught him off guard. In fact, the face you were making was one of complete confusion and also, a little bit of disgust. Which he couldn’t really judge, if someone told him they thought he and Katara were together, he would react the same way.

If not worse. But that wasn’t the point.

"Ah... you're... married, aren't you?" He murmured.

"Married?" Your breath caught in your throat.

That's when you touched your neck with your fingers. The grimace disappeared from your face, replaced by a softer expression. A little sweeter, like you just understood everything. But… you also looked a little bit pained.

"Sokka..." you began, looking away with a small smile, before going to another room.

Literally, he had no idea what was going on. But he wouldn't take long to find out either, when you returned to the room with the same necklace you hadn't worn in days.

Same color, same ribbon, same engraved craftsmanship. Same betrothal necklace, in perfect condition to be used. Which means you were choosing not to.

"It's my fault for assuming things. Everyone in the North already knew, and I guess I got used to not having to explain," you murmured.

Sokka couldn't bring himself to interrupt you. Because this time he didn't want to leave any room for misunderstandings. Although... he had a pretty good idea of ​​where this conversation was headed.

"Um... my husband passed away seven years ago," you said.

The dark-haired man closed his eyes and made a small grimace. He suspected it (at least for the few seconds before you said it), but it didn't make him feel any better because he'd put you in a situation where you were forced to talk about it.

Yet you smiled at him.

"He used to make... the furniture for the house. All of it. Um... when he passed away, I refused to buy new furniture or even have it repaired. I let it age, deteriorate, but I refused to touch it." You continued. Your shoulders were a little tense, yet it was clear you were still speaking from a place of love and affection. "When I moved out, I started to see things with more perspective and understand that he wouldn't have liked me continuing to live... the way I was. However, I truly understood it when I was left... locked out of my house because of the bookcase had finally given up. That’s when I knew I needed to change." You explained precisely and laughed slightly. Though, your hand brushed across your cheek, just below your eye. “It still took me a moment, but finally I’m… moving forward.”

"y/n-" tried to begin, but you shook your head and interrupted him.

"I loved my husband very much. I did, and I probably always will, but... I've come to understand that I can't become a slave to the love I felt for him. That’s not how I want to carry his memory. Part of me refused to change, because I believed he would come back or that I would die soon after him, but it's been seven years, Sokka." You took a breath. "And for the first time in so long, I feel ready to... reclaim my life, and start over."

You looked down at the necklace and smiled. He hated himself a little for being the cause (in a way) of that pain.

But when your eyes met with his again, you didn’t look upset. Actually, you looked so much at ease. Like you needed to say this.

"You don't have to tell me this." He whispered.

"Of course I do," you replied.

"You really don't."

And that sweet smile of yours, (despite your teary eyes), reappeared on your face and you took a breath and stepped forward towards him.

You got so much closer to him. It made him a little nervous, though… he was always nervous when it came to you.

"Sokka."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to ask me out or not?" You asked him softly. Though, it was… a very serious question.

Again, just like every time he was with you, Sokka was speechless, completely frozen, and... making a fool of himself.

But you laughed. And oh… how that laughed made him finally wake up was, extraordinary.

Eventually, he did asked you out.

⤷ ゛ ᯓ★ ˎˊ˗ 𓏲ּ𝄢 . . . THE END .ᐟ.ᐟ

© N E S K I • 2026 — any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission. Do not feed my work into any AI programs.

[runneski]

“Already gave you the time and the place, so, don’t be shy. Just come be the man I need. Tell me you got something to give I want it. I kind of like it when you call me wonderful.” —Olivia Dean

𖨠──··· ONESHOT ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ 🦋 ་༘࿐

╰┈➤Pairing: Sokka x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be so much shorter, but Sokka inspires me. // I MANAGE TO PUBLISH THIS TODAY, I genuinely lost faith that I would manage, but better late than never.

Summary: Hypothetically, you two are dating.

wc: 4.2k

Contains: fluff, friends to lovers, hypothetical dating to something, the moon mentioned, soft Sokka, a lot of praise, yearning(I think), hurt/comfort

⤷ ゛ ᯓ★ ˎˊ˗ 𓏲ּ𝄢 . . . START NOW .ᐟ.ᐟ

Dating was always difficult. Meeting someone with intentions was always difficult. For some reason, there was a formula, not just a natural flow, which made it incredibly hard.

The problem was that if you pretended you weren't looking for it, the man of your dreams didn't seem to fall from the sky either.

At this point, you were determined to give up on love and become one of those kind ladies who tends to plants and gives wise advice to the younger generation.

It was an incredibly depressing thought when you were only twenty-five.

You slumped down on the chair in Sokka's workshop. By now, the seat was more yours than his; after all, Sokka was the type of person who concentrated better when standing. You were just there for decoration, keeping him company, so you used the chair he kept there just in case.

The dark-skinned man turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

"Was it that bad?" he asked.

"Worse." You muttered, covering your face wearily. "I give up."

You couldn't see it, but Sokka rolled his eyes and smiled mockingly. It wasn't the first time you'd said it, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"What is it about this poor man that you didn't like?" Your friend asked, putting down his gadgets before turning to look at you.

Sokka crossed his arms and leaned back against the table, waiting for your response.

"He was late," you said, taking your hands away from your face to begin listing the things you didn't like about the man you'd just met. "He's... dry. He has absolutely no charm. The conversation didn’t seem to go anywhere, everything felt so... precise. It was awful! I had no idea if he actually wanted me there or if he'd rather be alone talking to himself. Because he seems to have quite a lot of conversation with himself!"

Sokka laughed at your exasperation, and you glared at him.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," the boy said, making you groan in irritation.

The dark-haired man raised his hands in a gesture of apology and looked away, closing his eyes.

"Admit it, it’s kind of funny."

Of course he was funny; the story was always going to be more entertaining than the experience. Especially if it was being told with particular desperation, just like you were doing now.

"No. it’s not." You replied and let out a childish whine, causing him to burst out laughing this time. You were obviously making a fool of yourself, but you continued with your complaint anyway. "It's completely unfair. Are there no men here or what?"

"I'll take that personally." Your friend replied, and you made a face at him.

"You don't count."

With exaggerated acting, Sokka put a hand to his chest, feigning pain as if you had just caused him enormous physical and emotional pain.

"Ouch, woman. Watch what you say to me."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help it. You smiled. Sokka always managed to make you smile, even… when he was being a total idiot and complete idiot.

"You're such a clown." You muttered before getting up from your chair and stretching.

You were still wearing clothes you wore for the date. Because you were comfortable, tired, and besides, it was still early. You'd imagined you'd be out late, but no.

The worst part was that it was still early, you'd gotten ready to meet up with a guy who didn't even seem to enjoy your company, and you came back with another disappointment on your list.

"I'm going to make dinner," you announced casually.

It was the norm between you two. Eating together. You were usually the one who cooked, since you enjoyed it. Besides, between you and Sokka, you were the most reliable person there.

You were leaving the workshop when you heard him call your name.

"Weren't you supposed to be eating?" the young man asked when you turned around.

A grimace crossed your face as you remembered the man with whom you had wasted your time, makeup, and an amazing outfit. It had truly been a complete fiasco.

"After making me wait half an hour longer than agreed upon... he just kept talking and talking. When we finally started walking, I realized we weren't getting anywhere, and when I asked him where we were going, he said he was following me." You said without pausing. The mere memory was infuriating. Because it wasn't just about the time he'd wasted, or the makeup, or the outfit.

The thing was, you hadn't even wanted to go out with him in the first place, but he'd insisted so much that you finally agreed. After all, it couldn't hurt anyone, right? Well, it turned out it could, and that was what bothered you the most.

"Wait for me here," you heard Sokka say, and when you looked back, he was leaving the workshop.

"Where are you going?" you asked, curious.

"Just wait!" he called out.

You crossed your arms and frowned. What was it with men these days, and the need to make you wait?

The truth was, you were very tempted to leave, but if you were able to wait for a complete stranger, waiting for Sokka wasn't going to be a big deal.

So instead, you sighed and decided to take a look around.

You knew the workshop almost like the back of your hand. You'd been there hundreds of times. You'd seen almost all of Sokka's creations. Those that were genuinely good ideas, those that were a sure thing, and those that never came to fruition.

You picked up one of the sketches on the wall and couldn't help but smile.

It was awful.

Although Sokka had improved his drawing skills considerably. At least now you could understand... more or less, what was happening in the image and the idea he wanted to convey.

Even so, they were still very ugly.

You continued looking at the sketches, finding some new ones and others that were simply there out of habit and which, by now, were practically part of the room's decor.

Then your eyes fell on a rather... peculiar drawing. Your brow furrowed; it didn't seem new. Judging by the state of the paper, you could tell it wasn't. The strange thing was that you hadn't noticed it before.

You stood on your tiptoes, since it was a little higher up, and picked up the drawing.

It was just as ugly as the others. It had obviously been drawn by him, but you couldn't help but smile. It was him and you. Smiling broadly (far from being humanly possible to smile like that), his hand seemed to be hovering over your shoulder, and your hair looked like it was on fire.

"He's ridiculous," you muttered with feeling.

Below, something was written on it. ‘My girl and I.’

"We can go." You heard his voice behind you and turned around with a mischievous smile, holding up the drawing. Sokka seemed surprised that you even had it in your hand. "What?"

"I'm your girl?" you asked teasingly, and he rolled his eyes as he approached.

"Don't be annoying," he replied, taking the drawing from your hands and placing it back where it belonged without much thought, as if he instinctively knew where it belonged.

"How long has that been there?" you asked curiously. "I've never seen it before."

He shrugged dismissively.

"A long time," he answered simply. "Let's go."

You grimaced.

"Where?" you questioned.

Sokka sighed wearily before turning to look at you. You raised your hands in a gesture of apology.

"Okay. I'll ask fewer questions," you muttered.

"Thanks," he replied sarcastically.

A while later, you were eating at a restaurant serving traditional Southern Tribe food. It was a good place to eat, if you were honest, even though it was food you usually enjoyed and were perfectly capable of making.

You were eating quietly and without making any comments, just enjoying each other's company, when Sokka cleared his throat and leaned forward.

"We need to talk," he said.

You stopped paying attention to your food (partially) to look at him briefly.

"About?"

He shrugged as if it were obvious before taking another spoonful of his food.

"The men you choose to date," he replied simply. "They're all terrible. Because you keep making the same mistakes."

You raised an eyebrow, and a small smile appeared on your face. Although you weren't exactly thrilled about where the conversation was going.

"Now it's my fault?" you questioned.

"Partially."

"So, they're bad, but it's my fault. I get it." You responded sarcastically and shook your head, deciding the conversation was over.

"Listen to me," he tried, but you didn't respond. So, true to form and undeterred, Sokka continued. "Today? You went out with a guy you didn't even want to go out with."

You nodded.

"You've done that before, too."

"Of course not," you complained.

The dark-skinned man looked at you incredulously, and for a moment, that was all you did. Stare into each other's eyes, until you gave up.

You grunted in annoyance and put your spoon down on your half-eaten plate. It was official, you weren't hungry anymore.

And childishly, you crossed your arms and looked away.

If Sokka had qualities you hated, this was one of them. Because sometimes it was terribly inconvenient how well he knew you, and on top of that, he was incredibly obnoxious about it. He boasted about knowing you well, only to use it against you.

He sighed, but didn't take his eyes off you.

"Hypothetically. Let's pretend you and I are dating." The dark-skinned man began.

"This is off to a bad start," you muttered. "We're supposed to be solving my problem of dating guys I don't like."

"Shut up," he replied, and you smiled. "I'm asking you out, you finally said yes."

Your eyebrow lifted with curiosity.

"So you had to beg me in this scenario?" you asked teasingly, but he just smiled playfully.

"You never say yes the first time someone asks," he said, snapping his fingers intermittently. "You like a bit of excitement. A little drama."

"But in this scenario, you're not supposed to know me. How do you know I said no because I wanted you to chase me a little longer?" you asked, leaning forward with interest.

"You have telltale gestures," he replied simply.

You shook your head and tapped a finger on the table.

"But you don't know me here, Sokka. You have to act according to the context of the situation. If you don't know me, how do you know I'm interested and want you to ask me again?"

"And like I said, you have telltale gestures." You grunted in frustration, but you were pleased. "But! Listen, there's one in particular. It's very obvious, and it turns out I'm a very intelligent man."

"I have my doubts."

"Don't push it," he said, pointing at you with his spoon, making you laugh and nod.

"Very well. I accept the date, what's next?"

"I'm taking you out to eat," he replied and makes a gesture like if he were showing the place. "You love to eat, I love to eat. We can talk, it's perfect."

"How do you know I like to eat?"

"Because before you accepted my date, I was paying attention."

You made a face, mocking what he'd just said. You crossed your arms again and leaned back in your chair.

"You were paying attention to what exactly?" you asked. "As far as I know, I enjoy food like a completely normal person."

"Actually, you don’t." He muttered, resting his chin on his hand. "Stop making things complicated."

"Where's the fun in that?"

As you asked, you tilted your head slightly to the side. You looked at him with a half-smile, and Sokka looked up, trying to suppress his own.

For a brief moment, you were alone with the silence. The other people in the restaurant and the food in front of you didn't matter. For a moment, it was just the two of you.

You felt a sensation against your chest. Which you decided to call a heart attack. Because you weren't going to accept, never in a million years, that your heart had just started racing, just because Sokka was looking at you.

You'd been friends for so many years. He'd looked at you hundreds of times, and you'd never, ever, felt anything like this.

Maybe because you'd never been in a situation where it mattered that he looked at you that way.

Maybe because you never allowed yourself to feel more and understand that... maybe, just maybe, there was something going on between you two.

However, in this case, it was a cramp. In your chest. You must have been dying or something.

Because the boy in front of you was Sokka. That ridiculous clown. There was nothing more to understand. Nothing to analyze. Because with him, everything had always been easy. There was no reason for it to be complicated now.

He was Sokka.

Almost simultaneously, they both looked in different directions and took a deep breath.

The dark-haired boy cleared his throat.

"So... continuing with my hypothetical scenario," he said, his voice a little hoarse and absentmindedly took a sip of his water.

"I think we've both had enough of hypothetical scenarios."

Sokka shook his head and made a disapproving sound as he sipped his water.

"Uh-uh," he finally said, placing the glass on the table. "We're dating. The case isn't over until the date is."

"Oh, this is a date now?" You raised an eyebrow, but your smile faltered. Your nerves were on edge. “An actual, matter of fact type of date?”

The topic was starting to get a little too sensitive for your liking, if you were honest, but you had no idea why.

It was Sokka, for the spirits sake.

If this bit was actually happening, then the last thing it was supposed to be was... weird. Right?

"So what are we going to do after lunch?" you asked, your arms still crossed, unconsciously pulling them a little closer to you.

The dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't you plan anything? This date is mediocre, Sokka," you said playfully.

He smiled.

"Are you done?" he asked.

You frowned.

You'd said it so he'd drop the act and this would be over faster. Not to make him seem more determined to continue.

You glanced at the half-eaten soup, but the truth was you'd lost your appetite a while ago, and seeing it again didn't exactly whet your appetite.

You nodded.

"Good." He murmured, pulling out his wallet after calling the waiter.

"Sokka-"

"You look beautiful, y/n." He said, looking into your eyes.

That made you stop immediately, your breath escaping your lips. You were sure your hands were trembling, even though they were trapped under your arms.

Sokka cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

"And it's a shame you're not enjoying a good night. So, I'll do you a favor and I’ll give the night you deserved." He said, now in a more playful and less serious tone.

You kicked him under the table, making him groan.

"If you keep this up, I'm not going to do anything," he complained under his breath.

"Why are you doing this, Sokka?"

The already very late waiter finally deigned to arrive. At, probably, the worst possible moment.

So you simply accepted it.

Tonight was going to be an... unconventional night with your best friend.

Because there was no way that today, of all days, what you thought was happening was actually happening.

As you left the restaurant, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye with slight suspicion. The truth was, you were curious about where this was going.

At the same time, you were completely terrified of whatever this could mean. And also of what it couldn't mean.

It was as if a door had just opened and refused to close again. It was so... annoying.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Home," he replied.

Part of you felt relieved.

On the other hand, you were very disappointed.

"You dragged me out of the restaurant to take me home? I can't even win in your hypothetical scenarios, Sokka," you said playfully.

"I'll walk you right to your doorstep, because I'm a gentleman," he replied with exaggerated acting, a hand on his chest.

You snorted in disbelief.

"We live together, Sokka. Obviously, you're going to take me home," you answered.

"Just go along with it. The point is for you to have a good time tonight," he said gently, and you laughed.

Before you could even dream of arriving home, you passed countless shops. Which meant that while you were talking, Sokka had distracted you enough that you didn't notice which direction he was taking you.

Which, truthfully, was another one of his very annoying qualities. That innate ability to distract you and turn the worst days into the most memorable.

Sometimes you hated him so much.

You hated him to the point that loving him hurt.

You hated him so much because lying was always going to be easier than telling the truth. A truth that had been hidden for years beneath lies, and tonight, it decided to emerge from the shadows and attack every nerve in your being.

When all of this will probably be forgotten... tomorrow.

Well, him. Because you were sure that after tonight you'd be left with a bigger problem than a simple date gone wrong.

But for now, you enjoyed it.

"Do you want them?" the dark-skinned man asked.

You'd been staring at the earrings for a while. You had to admit they were beautiful, although you probably wouldn't wear them much. Maybe twice before you got bored.

You weren't much of a fan of material things. Everything bored you to a certain extent.

You shrugged.

"They're very pretty," you said, glancing at him.

Simply, he signaled to the woman to hand you the accessories while he took out his wallet again.

"You really don't have to do it. You know how I am, it'll be a waste of money. It's completely unnecessary."

"Do you want them?" He looked at you, holding the money.

The truth is, you did want them, but you could perfectly well live without them!

Sokka took that silence as a yes and paid for them.

"Do you want to wear them?" he asked, smiling. "They'll look good with what you're wearing."

"I already have earrings on," you murmured.

And yet, you handed the new pair of earrings to the dark-haired man. When he took them, you started taking off the ones you were already wearing.

You glanced at the woman, who was smiling sweetly.

"You two are a beautiful couple," she said. "You remind me of my husband and me when we were young."

That made you stop completely. Judging by his lack of reaction, Sokka was just as surprised as you were, and understandably so.

You weren't together.

Not only you two weren’t together, but tonight was complicated enough without ladies adding fuel to the fire with their sweet comments about adorable couples.

Because above all else, it softened your heart and made you feel more than was appropriate. Imagine more than what was wise.

And the door was getting harder and harder to close. With feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long.

You glanced at Sokka when you heard him laugh.

The moonlight looked beautiful reflected on him. As if she loved him too, or rather... as if she still did.

You cleared your throat.

"Sokka." You called him softly, and he turned to look at you. "I want to go home."

The man looked into your eyes for a moment, and then he nodded.

You didn't even get to try on the earrings, but truth be told, that was the least of your worries tonight.

The walk home was silent.

Not like the silence you shared in the restaurant. In that silence, you seemed to understand each other. To know something about one another. A secret you refused to speak aloud.

Now it was just heavy.

When you two finally arrived, you paused at the door and you thought that at that moment you would be able to talk, but that didn't happen.

Sokka, on the other hand, couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he had gone too far. Maybe you weren't ready for any of this, and he just... assumed that maybe you were.

But the truth was, he could no longer live with those feelings buried deep in his chest.

He hated every time you went out with someone, and a part of him(the most selfish part of him when it came to you), couldn't help but feel glad when you came back and said it hadn't worked out.

Even so, it still hurt to see you arrive disappointed. Because Sokka wasn't capable of feeling happy when you were upset. Not even when it meant you two still had time to...

But again.

He didn't even know if you were in love with him.

Finally, you two entered the house, and the silence became increasingly more difficult to ignore. Heavier. More present. Louder.

You turned to look at him, hesitant.

He returned the earrings to you.

But when your hands touched, it was as if your bodies already understood something you weren't daring to say.

"Thank you for the night," you murmured as you took the gift.

Then, he didn't think.

He wasn't able to think. The action was faster than his reasoning. He was aware of it after he had said it.

"I think I'm in love with you," he murmured.

Your eyes widened, and the air escaped your lips. You had beautiful lips. Ones he wished to kiss, sometimes. When the feelings were heavier. Harder. Louder.

"...y-you think?" you murmured.

"I think I have been for a long time," he replied, still using the same low tone.

"Sokka..." you started, and shook your head. You even stepped back, and he could feel it. The rejection came right before you reached him, but he wasn't able to tell you to stop.

Even when you were about to break his heart.

"Don't you think it's just because of how the night feels? Like… the context we’re in right now." you asked instead, and then you bit your lower lip.

He chuckled softly.

"I'm in love with you, y/n." He corrected himself. "And I've been for so long that... I don't even know what it was like when I wasn’t.”

"I-I..." your voice trembled.

Sokka shook his head and carefully approached you before placing both hands on your shoulders.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way."

You frowned at him.

"Don't speak for me, Sokka," you said.

"I don't want to make it harder for you. Besides, we're both tired. Let's just go to sleep and talk tomorrow, okay?"

Then, without waiting another second, your voice rose with a hint of annoyance.

"I'm in love with you too," you said.

That made him back away in confusion. His brow furrowed, and he shook his head.

"You don't have to do this, y/n," he replied.

You approached him carefully. Your face was full of vulnerability, as if it were the first time you'd truly dared to see him with your face bare and nothing to hide.

"I've been in love with you for a long time, Sokka. But all this time I've been telling myself I wasn't and refusing to open the box where I kept the feelings I have for you," you said sincerely, and he felt his heart race. "And if it's not too late, I'd like to do it now," you murmured.

Sokka was speechless, to be honest.

The truth was, this was far from the night he had planned after you returned from your date.

The plan was simply to take you out to eat and tell you how beautiful you looked. You deserved to be told that you looked like if the moon had kissed you and decided to share her beauty with you.

This...

This was too much.

It was so much, and at the same time, everything he had waited for for so long.

"Sokka?"

"Yes?"

"Hypothetically, how would you have ended this date?" you murmured.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, and he considered it briefly. Though he also thought it was completely inappropriate to say that.

"With a goodnight kiss," he replied in the same tone as before.

And you smiled with your eyes closed, your head tilted to one side.

Despite the darkness, a few slivers of moonlight reached your face and they embraced it as if they loved you, almost as if they appreciated you, or rather... as if she wanted to be you.

Sokka couldn't bring himself to kiss your lips, even though it was what he most desired at that moment.

However, he kissed your forehead tenderly, and when he looked at you again, he knew he had made the right decision. Because you didn't seem confused, and you didn't look upset either.

Because you understood.

Because you knew him.

When he looked you. You didn’t only look beautiful. You looked... happy and that made him happy too.

⤷ ゛ ᯓ★ ˎˊ˗ 𓏲ּ𝄢 . . . THE END.ᐟ.ᐟ

© N E S K I • 2026 — any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission. Do not feed my work into any AI programs.

[inventorsokka]

Frozen Waters, Burning Hearts ( Sokka x Fire bender! Reader )

— Chapter 1

Summery : You're a powerful fire bender, a woman who was supposed to lead armies into war, but you have a wish. A wish of being free. Freedom becomes your main focus , and you take the risk to flee. You find refuge in wolf cove, along side a very well known inventor who makes it his goal to make sure you're safe, make sure you receive that freedom you've searched for your whole life and attend to you to the best of his abilities.

Includes: mentions of past abuse , mention of controlling parents

Your feet ached, and your breathing was heavy, making you nauseous. You kept telling yourself you wouldn't make it , but from a far, you could see people, civilization. You watched from a far, how the city stayed lit in the darkness, it was very different from the fire nation, bright , shimmering in the snow . Something you've never seen before.

You had been running for days, endless days , almost giving up but you were almost there . You knew giving up now would be useless, not when the prize was right in front of you. You kept telling yourself, 'I can do it, I can do it,' but as you reached the tribe, realization hit. Not the realization that you were finally at your destination , but the realization that you had just ran away from the fire nation . You still wore clothes that resembled them, you had nothing else, you had no choice. It was cold, but your movement kept you warm . The thought of not blending in wasn't something that crossed your mind not once, you had planned everything so precisely, did everything right, but forgot the main issue. This was a completely different civilization , a water tribe .

You glanced over your shoulder, nothing, you lost them. You were alone , nothing but you and these new people . People you were sure would chase you off if they caught you attempting to sneak in. Perhaps they'd take you as a threat, perhaps they'd chase you down with stakes . Suddenly, your hope faded, your plans were worthless, how were you supposed to blend in with them when you clearly didn't fit in. You stopped, again, looked over your shoulder once more. Nothing, but you were paranoid.

You took a moment to look around , attempting to map out a new plan, where to go next. Your eyes scanned the area , the buildings, the people . Your body began to tremble from the cold, and you knew your body wouldn't be able to hold itself up any longer if you didn't get somewhere warm soon. You had ran for days , sailed on water and took one too many tumbles and hits. You weren't going to let yourself freeze to death, no, you've come too far for such a pathetic and weak death. The fire nation would taunt you in your grave, mock you.

You kept walking, forcing your feet through the ice and snow, your footsteps becoming more and more heavy with each step, but you did your best to hide, to be silent. It was night, and you knew the people wouldn't see you too well, If only you walked far enough, silent enough .

Your body ached, you couldn't feel your feet , dragging yourself through the snow, you felt helpless. For once, you felt weak , unable to achieve your goal. You weren't a failure, you weren't weak, you always won, always did things right... but this time, you felt defeat. you felt something you never experienced, you were always held on such a high pedestal, praised for your strength, your will to fight ... but you couldn't fight anymore. Your body had given up, and you fell into the snow . You let your body go limp, eyes falling shut for a second as you accepted your fate. You failed .

You were of high rank in the fire nation, one of the best fire benders. The people admired you, they held you above others. You were proud of your works , and your parents praised you constantly. You were their golden child, strong, talented and one hell of a fighter. They couldn't be more proud. You were a winner, smart , everything you needed to succeed and yet .. there you were , laying in the snow below a sky full of stars.

Then you felt it , warm tears running down your face. You began to sob , you never cry , yet there you were , letting out cries from the deepest parts of your heart, your soul. All of this for freedom, all of this to be able to live a life where you aren't constantly being watched, forced to train countless hours where you were neglected or 'taught a lesson' for not doing something right. The slightest mistake set your father off, he wanted you to be great, he wanted you to be on the very top, he wanted you to be perfect, even if it meant putting you through what you would call torture . Your parents were non benders . They hit the jackpot, their only kid, a fire bender. You hated it, they treated you like royalty in front of everyone, but behind closed doors, you were treated like a burden. You carried that heaviness on your heart for years , until you decided you'd run away. You didn't mention a word to anyone, you didn't even say goodbye to your parents. You kissed your father and mother goodnight, and while they slept, you made a run for it. That was their fairwell , the last time you'd see them. For weeks , you traveled far , as far as you could from your home. Now here you were .

You wanted to give yourself credit for getting so far, for reaching your destination . You were unaware of how cold it'd be , you had never left the fire nation, never came this far out . You've never even seen anyone who wasn't of the fire nation . You laid there, your body began to feel numb , your eyes heavy as you watched the bright moon. It was full. You never realized how pretty the moon was until now. This would be the way you die , buried in snow , one of the fire nation's strongest, defeated by the cold. You were no longer sobbing but tears continued to fall . You were too weak to sob , too weak to call out. Even if you did, no one would come to save you , no one would hear you. You were hungry, thirsty , your body felt like it had been through torture, and you could no longer fight .

"I surrender. " you cried to the moon, your voice small, and once more, silent sobs began to flow out of you, you were gasping for air at this point, barely being able to get a sob out without feeling like that was the last breath you'd take.

" no you won't. " a voice said firmly .

Your eyes opened, looking up towards the moon... did the moon just respond ? You felt like you were losing your mind , but then you heard the sound of snow crunching next to you , and you had no choice but to prepare for the worst. Your eyes squeezed shut and you cried out .... but then you felt a coat falling over you. You opened your eyes, just enough to make out a silhouette above you. Your vision was blurred , but you did your best to focus as if you'd be able to catch a glimpse of their face in the dark.

" hold on, hold on for me." The voice spoke with a firm tone , and you fought, you did as you were told, just as you were taught. The man picked you up from the snow and He began to move, quick on his feet, and you fought, you held on . Just a little longer, and then it hit you. Perhaps you weren't going to die. Perhaps you didn't fail , and that was enough to keep you awake. You began to take everything in as he moved you through the snow, you were in wolf cove , a place you knew the fire nation would never guess. They'd assume the weather was too harsh for you, and unfortunately, they would be right . You felt something inside you, like you were letting go of something that sat heavy on your heart for years. A burden that sat too heavy for you to ever experience even the slightest bit of happiness. There you felt it , some form of joy, perhaps it was just relief... but whatever it was, you enjoyed it. You couldn't look away, watching the people , taking in the buildings . Everything was so new, so bright.

You were moving fast, well, not you, but the man holding you. You pressed yourself against his chest , trying to pick up on any heat that radiated off him . He wasn't wearing a coat , he scraficed it for you, and you were greatful . You tilted your head up towards him, attempting to get a glimpse of him but the dark wouldn't let you. It wasn't until you got closer to what you assume was his home. The lighting was faint , but it was good enough, and there, you finally got a glimpse of his face. You couldn't see him well , but you could say It was a face you had never seen before.

You looked away as he brought you inside , carefully, he set you down in something more comfortable, something that would keep you off the snow. Your body was still weak, unable to move, but the man reached for something , coming over to cover you in blankets made or fur. The warmth of the blankets felt nice, and it allowed you to relax in your spot. Then your gaze was on the man again, watching him move around frantically . You didn't have it in yourself to speak , and he seemed too focused to even start any conversation. So you watched in silence, watched as he struggled to start a fire for you to keep warm .

You watched, he struggled, and you wanted to help, but you couldn't, but luckily, he was able to start the fire on his own and you smiled feeling the warmth . You were silent, not a word said , not even a thank you, you didn't have it in you to speak. Again, the tiredness came over you, you knew you'd be sick for weeks and being so far from home, the thought was dreadful. You heard footsteps once more , and for once, the curiosity didn't get to you . Your body finally relaxed as it felt the warmth, and you began to drift off. Your head slowly moving to the side, body limp but then there it was. He spoke , and said something you hoped no one would say.

" you're from the fire nation. "

You felt sick to the stomach, your eyes shot open and You sat up in your spot , slowly, but you got there. Of course he'd know , you didn't fit in, you wore clothes that resembled that of the fire nation, and you couldn't handle a bit of cold . You looked towards the man across from you, you took a moment to take him in. You wanted to say his face was familiar, but you couldn't, your whole life you had been sheltered from people of other nations , you had been told they were dangerous, yet here one was, a man of the water tribe, going out of his way to save you from freezing to death in the snow. He gave you his jacket, pushed through the snow with you in his arms and still went on to set a fire for you. All to keep you warm, all to keep you alive .

You needed to at least thank him before giving an explanation , and just as you were about to speak,

" oh you don't have to thank me! "

Caught by surprise, your brows knitted together as your gaze fell on the man again. He smiled , your face softened . He was a handsome man, he didn't look like any of the men back in the fire nation.

You were at a loss of words, not knowing what to say , but you assumed he'd want a response . A response on why you were so far out , so far from the fire nation , but it seemed the man in front of you was reading your mind, over and over again.

" why are you so far from the fire nation ?" He asked, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His face full of curiosity .you weren't easily intimidated , or at a loss of words. You were taught to be ready for anything, which included any question you were asked , but for once, you couldn't give a proper explanation. You took a deep breath, and took a moment to think before you spoke.

" I'm... I'm in search for freedom ." You admitted, your voice small, calm, controlled , but tears threatened to fall. You took a moment, squeezing your eyes shut and sighed before looking back at the man. His brows were raised, lips curved into a smile and you wondered to yourself... what's this guy's deal? He's so expressive.

" is something wrong? "

" not at all ! Oh, I'm sokka !" He stretched his hand out to you but you didn't take it. You looked between him and his stretched out hand , then finally, you reached out to take it in your own. Your hand was cold, but his wasn't, it was warm, and you enjoyed the warmth. He spoke again, " you'll be safe here, with me. "

" I'm y/n ." You'd say, taking a moment to look him over once more. Your gaze soft, and your hand still in his , you didn't pull away immediately, but when he began to laugh you did, and you let out a half hearted laugh without knowing what was so funny. You brought your knees to your chest , pulling the fur coat and blankets over your shoulders and placed your chin over top of it, resting your chin on your knees. Your gaze still on the man across from you, but then something caught your attention. Your gaze shifted , from left to right, and all the way up. This place was strange, he had so many things, things you had never seen before and you couldn't help but ask, " what is all this ?"

Sokka stood and his face lit up , clearly excited you even bothered to ask . " what , These things ? Oh they're my inventions!" He spoke in a voice full of excitement, he was proud of his inventions , happy you even asked and you could tell. You looked around, taking it all in as he spoke. You watched him run around , pointing at each and every thing, giving an explanation for it all. You couldn't understand half the things he said... you weren't exactly into these type of things but it was all fascinating.

" oh and this, this is my newest invention. Isn't she a beauty ." Sokka raised his hands in the air, expressing so much excitement for it. It looked like some sort of flying thing. Carefully, you were able to put yourself back on your feet, and pulled the jacket on. It was his jacket, and it swallowed you up. It was actually funny how big it was on you, but it kept you warm, so you didn't mind it. You approached sokka, standing by his side as you looked up with him.

" it's huge ." You'd murmur , eyes staring up in complete awe. " it's incredible, sokka . I've never seen anything like this... you- you've done all this on your own ?"

" I sure have ! " the man said proudly, enjoying the praise he was getting, it even made him blush . It wasn't everyday a pretty lady came around to recognize his work . He turned his head to look at you, watching your face of awe. Watching your eyes move over every inch of the craft, taking in something so new. Your eyes wide, you just, oh you've never seen anything so amazing ! You turned to look at the man next to you then immediately looked away, and he laughed. You laughed with him , again, a half hearted laugh.. what was so funny? he spoke again, " you must be tired. How about we get you in bed , we'll talk tomorrow. Oh ! Are you hungry?" He leaned in as he spoke to you, as If you couldn't hear him . You never imagined people from the water tribe to be so nice. To be so nice to you.

" I would like to get some sleep sokka."

" as you wish, m'lady!" He reached his hand out to yours, in which you took as he led you off and away from everything. You still did your best to take in as much as you could before it was out of sight . Then your attention was on him, you took him in the most you could, his face , his hair, what he wore, and then your gaze was on his hand, and how he held yours.

" oh and those fire nation clothes won't do !"

You snapped out of it, finally realizing he had been talking to you the whole time, all while you zoned out.

" what? "

" those clothes, you can't wear them, but it's no worry ! I'm sure my sister has some spare clothes somewhere. Uh , you can keep that jacket, I'll get myself another . We need to get you checked up too , make sure you're not hurt ... my only concern is the people ." He stopped , and turned around to look at you. You looked up at him, lips pressed into a frown. His gaze softened, and he wondered, what was he going to do ? He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he had one thing clear, he couldn't let you freeze to death, no matter where you came from.

Seeing that frown, he took a deep breath, " you know what, don't worry, don't worry about a single thing ." He reached out to grab your shoulders, leaning in again and being just centimeters from your face as he spoke. His gaze was intense , and it made your eyes go wide. " we'll figure it out, okay? I promise, I won't let them take you back , and if they come looking for you, they'll have to get through me, got it?"

You felt , odd, no one has ever shown this amount of care for you, and it left you speechless, but you felt sure. You felt sure of having made the right choice. For your own good , for your safety. You couldn't go back now, and you wouldn't, even if they came looking for you.

" thank you , sokka." You said , nodding your head . He smiled, and so did you. " I'll see you in the morning, y/n" he gave your shoulders a squeeze before letting go of you, and you stepped into what would be your room for now. You took a moment to look around... " is this a storage closet?" You asked, looking his way. He smiled sheepishly and reached his hand up to rub the back of his head, nervous, he said,

" yeah I just... I wasn't expecting any guests and I can't really take you back to my place or my sister might question you and well - you know ! "

Oh , right, you weren't from here . You'd be questioned by everyone, you were a new face. You looked down at the ground, eyes falling on a few screws and bolts he seemed to have spilled and never picked up . This was better than being out in the cold , so you couldn't complain much. " thank you sokka , I appreciate your help . " you turned to him, again you straightened up, your tone firm, your gaze intense. Sokka leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his lips.

He reached out after a moment, his hands finding their way to your shoulders once more . This was enough to make you relax. "Hey, There's no need to treat me like I'm one of them, talk to me like a friend , we're friends now..right ?"

You watched the man as he came closer, crouching down to meet your eyes . His eyes were wide, his smile too big , there was just something about him. His face was so full of life , he radiated so much joy, he spoke so loudly but in the best way possible. He felt like a breath of fresh air, he was so free, you could tell, from the way he spoke, from how he acted... all those things he made. His inventions . He was free , and in that very moment , finally the realization came to you. You've made the right choice and had fallen in the hands of the right person. You smiled again, and nodded your head. " friends... we're friends. " you said , your voice calm . Then he pulled away, and made his way into the hall . He took a moment to look back at you for just a second and spoke,

" sweet dreams hotman - woman ? Hotwoman?" He laughed a little , " uh- I'll see you in the morning!"

" Goodnight sokka.."

Sokka slowly pushed the door open to the home where him and his sister slept. She was already in bed , and he knew he'd be in huge trouble if he woke her up. The floor creaked under his feet and he probably bumped into something here and there because he refused to turn on the lights and draw any attention to himself. He knew she'd yell at him for coming home so late , but he had an excuse! He was closing up the shop late... and happened to have found a lady from the fire nation in the snow on his way home but katara didn't need to know that part !

He made his way down the hall , then took a second to peak into her bedroom. She was asleep. Then his attention shifted to the corner of her bedroom where she had packed her things. Katara was supposed to go to Republic city in the morning, and sokka was supposed to join her... but he couldn't. He couldn't leave his new friend behind . He knew katara would question him, perhaps complain, but he couldn't leave her, that'd be rude. Carefully, he shut the door and headed to his own bedroom. There, he sat at the edge of his bed, his hands folded in front of himself as he got lost in thought.

What would he tell katara in the morning ?

What would he tell fire nation lady ?

Oh no.... what If katara found out about fire nation lady !?

Sokka was so smart, he always had a solution but for once... he didn't. He laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. What happened earlier was a surprise, but he couldn't let her freeze in the snow.. not even if she was from the fire nation. He didn't care, he's literally friends with fire lord Zuko !

" what am I gonna do..." He'd whisper to himself, the realization hit, and he dragged his hands over his face with a groan. It was a big responsibility to take on, but he loved himself a challenge, and he'd never reject someone in search for freedom, so if there was one thing he had clear, it was that he'd do whatever he could to make sure she gets exactly what she's been searching for. She's come this far , he knew her journey was hard, traveling on your own from the fire nation to wolf cove wasn't easy.

His mind was running in circles , and eventually he'd drift off into a deep sleep mid thought , still fully dressed, on top of his blankets.

───❅✵ ·❆· ✵❅───

// hope you enjoyed , I'm really excited for this series . I'm not sure how many chapters I'll add, but , I'll just go with the flow .

Chapter 2

[nebulaglitxh]

Chief!Sokka x Reader

Chapter 2 - Heartbreak and Misunderstandings

I’m crine I tried to add the banner after writing the whole thing and it put the banner at the bottom ( sorry it’s there now cuz I’m too lazy to change it)

The man who asked you out to the Blue Moon Festival was named Jarko, and he was the leader of the Southern Hunters. A famed group of talented, savage and unbeatable warriors who fought in the ‘HUNTERS’ tournament every year and always win. Jarko was popular amongst the women and men - girls found his tall, brute like nature attractive while guys admired him and strived to be as huge and muscular as he was. You had never interacted with the guy, but the rumours you had heard about him being arrogant, ignorant and strange proved to be true.

Now as you stood with Jarko as he absolutely demolished a huge skewer of fish that he had bought from a stall, you were regretting even accepting his proposal.

The cold air biting at your cheeks does nothing to numb the hollow ache spreading through your chest. For the rest of the night, the festival’s blue lanterns seem to mock you, their romantic light casting long shadows across the snow. You feel physically sick to your stomach.

Whilst you were busying yourself with trying to be interested in all of Jarko’s strange conversation topics, Sokka had found his own company too, Sela was a well-known noble-woman from the North - her father was a part from the Northern Council, so you should have expected her to come with him and the rest of the council to celebrate the Blue Moon festival. And you shouldn’t be feeling so heartbroken whilst watching Sokka laugh with Sela - certainly treating her with the utmost royal respect - has shattered the protective wall of denial you’ve built around your heart.

You don't just like Sokka. You are completely in love with him. And seeing him look so attentive to someone else makes you realize it too late.

"Hey," Jarko’s voice breaks your spiraling thoughts. He steps in front of you, his hands fidgeting nervously as he holds up a small, beautifully carved ivory pendant. "I know we only started talking tonight, but... I think you are the most incredible woman in the South. Would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?"

You look at the pendant, then up at his hopeful face, and a wave of heavy guilt washes over you. It isn't fair to use him as a distraction ( even though he’s a brute). You place a gentle hand over his.

"Jarko, you are wonderful, truly," you say softly, your voice trembling slightly. "But I can't accept this. I don't think of you that way, and I don't want to lead you on. I'm so sorry."

The light in Jarko’s eyes dies instantly. He looks down at the pendant, heartbroken, and gives a tight, painful nod before quietly melting away into the crowd. Before you could call out to him, he was already gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

——————

A few days later, the grand ice palace hosts a massive council banquet to celebrate the successful integration of Northern trade. The hall is a spectacle of glittering chandeliers and towering ice pillars, filled with the murmurs of powerful lords and dignitaries.

Jarko is there, standing stiffly in his formal furs, representing the hunters of the South. But your eyes are drawn elsewhere.

Sokka enters the hall, his broad shoulders filling out his royal blue Chief attire perfectly. Beside him is Sela. Because Sokka is still under the furious impression that you accepted Jarko’s proposal at the festival, his jealousy has morphed into a protective, petty stubbornness. To save face, he guides Sela around the room, introducing her to a parade of Southern and Northern lords. They are purely good friends - sharing technical jokes about ice-masonry - but to the rest of the room, they look like a perfect royal pair.

You stand by the edge of the hall, blindly swirling a cup of punch, staring at Sokka with an expression of quiet, longing heartbreak.

From across the room, Jarko watches you. He sees the exact moment Sokka laughs at a joke Sela makes, and he sees the way your chest heaves with a silent, pained sigh. Jarko’s jaw tightens, a sudden flare of bitter jealousy burning in his gut.

"Look at that," Akita whispers, subtly nudging Keyla as they stand near the buffet tables. She nods her head toward Jarko, then toward you. "Jarko looks like he wants to challenge Sokka to a duel, and our girl looks like she’s about to cry. Something is seriously wrong here."

Keyla pops a candied berry into her mouth, looking between the fractured pieces of the puzzle. "I told you that trial was a terrible idea. Sokka thinks she's taken, she thinks Sokka's taken, and Jarko is just caught in the crossfire."

“ Your right… wait - you never told me that the trial was a bad idea?” Akita accused.

After the grueling banquet concludes, the hall empties out.

Sokka watches as Akita and Keyla catch up to you…you were exceptionally beautiful tonight, you were wearing a long, elegant dress, your hair was done up with intricate braids and hair pieces and your soft blue eyes twinkled perfectly in the light - as Akita and Keyla fling their arms over your shoulders and drag you away, Sokka watches in despair, wondering how he was ever going to fix anything. He probably couldn’t, you were dating Jarko - happily dating Jarko.

After you, Akita and Keyla’s laughs slowly dies away as you walk further and further away from the hall, Sokka finally feels malone in the war room with Kento. Sokka aggressively throws his warrior pack onto the table, pacing back and forth.

"Did you see how she was looking at the catering menu, Kento? She didn't even look at me once!" Sokka vents, his voice a frustrated rumble. "And Sela agreed with me that the Northern trade tariffs are a mess, which proves my point! Sela is great. Very smart. Excellent grasp of logistics."

Kento slowly rolls up a map, his expression entirely deadpan. "Chief Sokka. You have spoken of Lady Sela’s logistical prowess for forty-five minutes. May I ask a direct question?"

Sokka stops pacing, blinking. "Uh, sure."

"Did you ever actually like the junior council member?" Kento asks bluntly. "Or was your display at the harbor merely a passing whim?"

"A whim?!" Sokka gapes, his broad chest rising as his defensive walls crumble. "Kento, I am completely crazy about her! I have been since the second I got off that ship! But what am I supposed to do now? She's with Jarko. She chose the hunter. I missed my chance because of that stupid trial, and now I'm too terrified to even speak to her because it'll just hurt to hear her confirm it."

Kento sighs, adjusting his spectacles with a look of deep, exhausted pity. "Chief. They are not together. She turned Jarko down flatly at the festival. She has been single this entire time."

Sokka freezes. His jaw drops, his blue eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. "She... she what? She's single?!" A sudden, euphoric rush of determination floods his veins. "That's it. I'm fixing this right now. I'm a warrior, I don't hide in the shadows. I'm going to write her a letter. I'll explain the trial, the misunderstanding, everything."

Sokka scrambles for a piece of parchment and a quill, pouring his heart into the ink, sealing it with the royal wax of the Chief.

"Kento, deliver this to her immediately. Discreeter than discreet," Sokka begs, shoving the scroll into his advisor's hands.

"I am currently swarmed with the trade documents, Chief," Kento replies smoothly, though his eyes soften slightly. "But I will ensure a trusted royal messenger delivers it directly to her quarters tonight."

Unfortunately, luck is not on Sokka’s side.

Later that night, the royal messenger slips out of the palace gates, holding the sealed scroll. As the messenger crosses a dimly lit alleyway near the lower canals, a shadow steps out. Jarko.

Bitter, jealous, and possessing the sharp reflexes of a hunter, Jarko steps into the messenger's path. "Hold on. What’s that?"

"Official business from the Chief," the messenger says defensively.

Jarko catches sight of your name written on the back of the parchment. A dark, reckless impulse takes over. Before the messenger can protest, Jarko flashes a heavy coin purse, shoving it into the man's hands while firmly snatching the scroll away. "I’ll deliver it myself. Go take the night off."

The messenger, eager to get out of the freezing wind, pockets the silver and scurries away.

Tucked into the shadows of an archway, Jarko breaks the wax seal. His eyes scan Sokka’s passionate, desperate words of love. Angered by the Chief’s arrogance, Jarko pulls out a blank piece of parchment and a small quill from his hunting kit. Using his knowledge of official scripting, he meticulously alters the message, forging a cold, brutal note.

When you receive the letter a half-hour later from a maid who claims it was left at the door, your hands shake with anticipation. You break the seal, expecting a work memo, but your heart stops as you read the words:

To the Junior Council Member,

I believe it is best we keep our relationship strictly professional moving forward. My duties as Chief require my full focus, and my time spent with Lady Sela has made me realize where my true future lies. I wish you the best with your own endeavors.

- Chief Sokka

The parchment slips from your numb fingers, fluttering to the ice floor. A sob catches in your throat, choking you. The finality of the words shatters whatever lingering hope you had left.

Suffocating under the weight of the heartbreak, you throw on a simple cloak and rush out of your quarters, needing to escape the suffocating walls of the palace.

You walk blindly through the frost, eventually stopping at the center of a grand, arched ice bridge that spans across the widest canal. The rare moon shines down, casting a silver, ethereal glow over the frozen water below. You lean against the icy railing, a single tear slipping down your cheek, sparkling like a diamond in the moonlight.

"You know, crying in a blizzard usually results in frozen eyelashes. It’s a very uncomfortable medical condition."

You startle, wiping your cheek quickly as you turn around.

Standing on the opposite side of the bridge, leaning casually against the railing, is a young man you’ve never seen before. He is strikingly handsome, with sharp, unfamiliar features and dark, mysterious eyes that seem to hold a quiet, knowing depth. He wears a heavy, dark-furred parka that doesn't belong to any of the local Southern styles.

He offers a soft, surprisingly warm smile, stepping a bit closer into the moonlight. "I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you. It’s just... a beautiful woman shouldn't be mourning under a moon this perfect."

———————————————————

Idk why but I felt like this one was so rushed, but also I don’t wanna put a lot of stuff in one chapter cuz it might be overwhelming which is why I’m chopping the storyline up into more parts.

@ita606 @simplykayblog @alienitgirl @rosieposiediditagain @mimsxki @cassie5581 @h4d3sf4v0r1t3ch1ld

[romopiod]

TOGETHER?!

SYNOPSIS. Someone assumes the two of you are together, when you’re not (yet), how does he react?

FEATURING. Albedo, Ayato, Childe, Kaeya, Lohen, Thoma, Venti

WORD COUNT. 5.7k total (i got carried away, please stick around)

NOTES. Just fluff through and through. I wanted to write for so many more characters!! Do let me know who else you would like to see :))

Fem!reader !! she/her pronouns are used.

ALBEDO

You spend a lot of time in Albedo's lab. You're not entirely sure when it started becoming routine, but somewhere between him seeking your presence and you deciding to stay longer than necessary, it just... happened. You'd sit in the corner with a book or just watch him work, the way he moves through his experiments with methodical precision. 

Today, though, you're in the Favonius library instead. Albedo needed to research something specific, and you went along with him without question. You're sitting at one of the tables while he browses the shelves, pulling down various tomes with focused precision.

Lisa is at the front desk when Albedo brings his stack of books to check them out. You're waiting nearby, and she glances between the two of you with that knowing smile of hers.

"My, my, someone's been spending a lot of time with our dear Chief Alchemist," she says to you, her voice sweet as honey. She's already flipping through the first book. "Taking quite the interest in his work, are we?"

"Just curious," you say, suddenly very aware of how close Albedo is standing.

"Mm, how thoughtful of you." She continues scanning, her eyes flickering up to Albedo for just a moment. "Your lover must appreciate having someone so interested in what he does."

She says it so casually, so mixed in with the mundane task of checking out books, that it takes a moment for the words to actually register. By the time they do, she's already moving on to the next book, completely unbothered.

Albedo pauses. You notice it immediately—his hand stills on the counter, and there's a moment where he seems to be processing something. His gaze drifts to the side, not quite looking at Lisa, not quite looking at you. He's just... considering. Turning the words over in his mind the way he does with everything else. 

Then, just as quietly as the pause came, he seems to release it. He doesn't correct her. Doesn't say anything at all. Just sets down the remaining books on the counter in that careful way of his.

“Oh, uhm,” You begin, looking over at Albedo. “We, uh, aren’t together.”

Lisa glances up, catches something in his expression, and her smile widens slightly. But she says nothing more.

Later, when you're back at the library and Albedo is focused on his research, you find yourself thinking about what Lisa said.

"Do you think I'm a distraction?" you ask casually, not looking up from your book.

Albedo doesn't pause in his work. "No." The answer is immediate. Certain. You turn a page.

"Lisa thinks we're together," you say.

He sets down the vial he held with careful precision. Turns to look at you fully, and for a long moment, he doesn't say anything. His soft, analytical gaze is fixed on you, and the silence stretches out—long enough that you start to feel uncomfortable, long enough that you begin to wonder if you've said something wrong.

And then, as though he had reached a conclusion so simple and obvious, "Would that be so strange?"

You realise you don't have an answer for that. And more importantly, that perhaps, no, it would not be so strange after all. 

AYATO

The Kamisato clan commissioner rarely ventured into the markets. Usually, he would have sent either Thoma or one of his other myriad helpers to fetch whatever it was he or Ayaka needed. But, today, perhaps as a change of environment—away from the towering paperwork he had to fill—Ayato decided to accompany you in your shopping. He always had a peculiar habit of trailing behind you, even when it was unnecessary. You had gotten used to his presence in your life. A shadow. An extremely coy and teasing shadow, that is. 

Besides, perhaps the presence of the commissioner would snag you a couple of good deals while out and about. 

You curled a bolt of silk green fabric around your wrist. Pretty, smooth. Ayato peeked over your shoulder, scrutinising the item in so much more detail than you were at all. 

You turned back to look at him and huffed, a sound of amusement, “What, is it not to your liking, Ayato?”

“Well,” he seemed to draw out, catching your eyes. “I hardly think it’s your shade.”

Not your shade? Just as a retort bubbled up in your throat, you were interrupted by the sound of the vendor. “Ah, commissioner!” He said. “Interested in imported silks, are you?”

The man seemed to be pulling out more cloth, shades of different colours—silver, lavender, pink, blue. His hands moved with practiced efficiency as he laid out the fabrics over the counter. He seemed to be going on and on about where each piece was imported from—this one from Liyue, the other a local craftsman from Inazuma, the other cultivated in the meadows of Mondstadt. 

But then he picked out a specific piece and looked over to Ayato. “I’m sure your lover would look stunning in the deeper blues,” he said. “Does the lady have a preference, or should we let the commissioner decide?”

You tensed. 

Lover? And the man had said it so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You felt your cheeks warm and suddenly you seemed to become all too aware of the little distance between you and Ayato. As though hypersensory, you could feel the way Ayato’s hands stilled, resting for a moment at your hip. You looked over at him. 

And yet, there was no change in his expression. If anything, the small smile he had on his face had stretched a fractional amount. His head tilted to the side. 

“I think she would look rather beautiful,” Ayato said. Simple and casual, his eyes snagging on you for half a second. It was like he hadn’t even heard the former part of the sentence. Or, scratch that, like he hadn’t heard anything the vendor had just said. 

The vendor was simply ecstatic to have sold something to the commissioner, and—apparently—his “lover,” and had left to wrap the item. 

You paused for a second, before turning to the man next to you. “What was that?” 

Ayato hummed non-commitally as he looked at you. “What was what?” He feigned ignorance, that smug idiot. He never missed a single thing. Once you had changed the scent of your perfume from Sakura Bloom to Naku Weed, and he had caught it the moment you stepped into his office; there was no way he hadn’t heard that. 

“He just called me your lover!” You pressed. 

Ayato just tilted his head, his fingers tapping against the wooden counter. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t correct him.”

“No.”

The heat in your face seemed to rise in temperature. Just what exactly was he playing at? Why was he staring at you like this was the most normal thing ever? Was he not bothered? And the way the merchant had said it, too, it was like everyone in the entirety of Inazuma knew about this except for you!

“Why not?” You asked, growing more shifty by the second. 

Ayato let out a laugh, a sweet, melodic little sound, “You didn't seem eager to correct him yourself.”

You opened your mouth to argue, and then closed it again. “W-Well, I was just about—but then, I…” Any and all justification that rose in your throat withered away. Especially when Ayato was staring at you like that. Like he was challenging you to question that assumption, daring you to change it. 

That day, the two of you walked away having bought an expensive indigo fabric. Matching the Kamisato insignia.

CHILDE

The training grounds were empty except for the two of you. You'd been sparring with Childe for the better part of an hour, and he was still grinning like he was having the time of his life—which, knowing him, he probably was.

"Your footwork's off," he called out, circling you with that predatory grace he had when he was actually engaged. "You're telegraphing your next move."

"Maybe I want you to know what I'm doing," you shot back, lunging. He sidestepped easily, but you'd anticipated that, spinning to catch him off-guard with a follow-up strike. He blocked it, and the impact sent a jolt up your arm. "Or maybe you're just slow today."

"Slow?" He laughed, and there was an edge to it now—the kind that meant he'd stopped holding back. He came at you with a series of quick strikes, testing your reflexes, and you matched him, parry for parry. 

Your muscles were already burning from the previous rounds, but you pushed anyway because he'd give you that look of approval when you did, that slight nod like you'd passed some invisible test. "You're the one who's slowing down. Your last five moves have been predictable."

"Only because you're boring me," you said, breathing harder now. You twisted away from his next strike, used his momentum against him, and nearly got him off-balance. Nearly. He recovered with infuriating ease, but you caught the flash of something in his expression—genuine interest now, not just amusement.

The sparring continued, and at one point, you overextended on a strike. His hand came out to steady you, gripping your arm just above the elbow. It was meant to be instructional—a correction of your form—but he held it for a moment, his thumb brushing against your skin before he released you. Neither of you acknowledged it. He just stepped back and said, "Again. Better this time."

You came at him again, and somewhere in the middle of it, there was a moment where he caught your wrist mid-strike. His hand was warm, his grip firm but not painful. He could have thrown you. Instead, he held it for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and you were close enough to see the slight raise in his eyebrow—a challenge. You twisted your arm, trying to break free, and he let you go with a grin.

"Getting better," he said.

"I've always been good. You're just finally noticing," you replied, and charged at him again.

By the time you both called it, you were both breathing hard. Sweat dripped down your temple, and your arms felt like lead. Childe was still smiling though, that infuriating, easy smile of his that suggested he could do this all day. He grabbed his water bottle, tossed you one, and you caught it easily. The cold water was a relief as you drank, trying to catch your breath.

You were leaning against the nearby pillar, still catching your breath, when you heard voices approaching. Not close yet, but getting closer. You recognized one of them immediately—Paimon's high-pitched chatter, and underneath it, Lumine's quieter responses. You didn't think much of it. They were probably just passing through the training grounds on their way somewhere else.

Childe was standing a few feet away from you, already looking refreshed despite the exertion. He had that energy about him, the kind that didn't seem to deplete no matter how hard he pushed himself. He caught you looking at him and raised an eyebrow.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked, already moving toward you.

"Just wondering how you're not completely dead," you said. "Normal people need recovery time."

"I'm not normal people." He stopped beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. Without any real thought to it, he reached over and fixed a strand of your hair that had come loose during the sparring, tucking it back behind your ear. It was such a casual gesture, the kind of thing he did without thinking. Your breath caught slightly, but he was already pulling his hand back, already grinning at you like he hadn't just done something that made your heart rate pick up for reasons that had nothing to do with the exercise.

"Definitely not normal," you muttered, looking away.

"Hey, Childe! Lumine and I were just—oh!"

You looked up to see Paimon floating toward you both, her expression shifting to something almost knowing as she took in the sight of you two standing close together, both flushed and breathing hard. Lumine followed behind her, her eyes flickering between you and Childe with that quiet observation of hers.

"We were just heading to the Adventurers' Guild," Paimon continued, but there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But wow, looks like you two have been going at it pretty hard. I'm just glad Childe's finally found his special someone! But sheesh, do you have to go that hard on her?"

There was a beat. You opened your mouth to correct her, to clarify whatever assumption she'd just made, but Childe moved first. His arm came around you without hesitation, pulling you against his side in one smooth motion. It was the kind of casual contact you two shared all the time, except it wasn't casual now. Not the way he was looking at Paimon, not the way his hand rested at your hip like it belonged there.

"Yeah, well," he said, his voice easy and warm, "took me long enough to find someone worth the effort."

Lumine's lips curved into the faintest smile. "That's one way to put it," she said, and there was definitely something knowing in her tone.

You felt your face flush. You pushed against his chest, your hand flat against the fabric of his shirt.

"You're insane," you said, but you were already laughing despite yourself, despite the way your heart was doing backflips.

Paimon giggled, seeming satisfied with whatever she thought she'd figured out, and Lumine gave you both a small wave before they continued on their way. You watched them go, still half-pressed against Childe's side, and the moment they were out of earshot, you pushed away from him properly.

"You want to enlighten me on what you were implying there?" you asked, turning to face him.

Childe's grin was still there, but something underneath it had shifted. He wasn't quite looking at you directly, was instead focused on something past your shoulder, his expression caught between amusement and something you couldn't quite read.

"Was I implying something?" he said, but there was no real teasing in it now.

"You just told them we're together."

He finally looked at you then, and his expression was softer than you'd expected. Still smiling, but there was something real behind it—something that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the sparring.

"And?" he said softly. "I wasn't lying though, was I?"

KAEYA

You'd been coming to the tavern with Kaeya for weeks now. It started innocuously enough—he'd asked if you wanted a drink after a particularly grueling shift, and you'd said yes mostly because you were too tired to say no. Somewhere along the way, it became routine. Every few nights you'd find yourself at the counter with him, and he'd order for you without asking. He always got it right, which was irritating in its own way.

Tonight was like any other night. You were sitting at your usual spot, the one that had somehow become your spot, when someone approached. One of the regulars—a member of the Adventurer’s Guild—someone you'd seen around enough times to recognize but not enough to know by name.

"Kaeya," the man slurred, leaning against the bar. "Your girlfriend's looking particularly radiant tonight."

You felt your spine stiffen slightly. Girlfriend. The word hung there for a moment, waiting to be corrected. 

You looked over at Kaeya, waiting for him to say something, to clarify, to do whatever it was he normally did when people made assumptions. But he just smiled. That easy, lazy smile of his. 

"Isn't she always?" he said, and the man laughed like it was the most charming thing he'd ever heard, and walked away.

You stared at your drink. The ice was melting slowly, diluting the amber liquid into something weaker.

"You could've corrected him," you said, looking over at him with barely concealed flustered confusion.

"Could have," Kaeya agreed. He wasn't looking at you, was instead focused on something across the bar with that detached amusement he wore like a second skin. "Didn't seem worth the effort."

You let it go. It was small enough, harmless enough. Kaeya was always like this—playing into characters, scenarios, whatever amused him in the moment. And besides, this was the tavern. People were drunk, made assumptions, barely thought twice about anything. Everything Kaeya said carried that thin veneer of humor, that deliberate lightness that suggested nothing he did was ever meant to be taken seriously. This must have been yet another attempt at his particular brand of entertainment, or maybe an effort to fluster you. Which you weren't falling for. Obviously.

But a few days later, he suggested dinner at Good Hunter's. You'd gone, mostly because you were hungry and he was there. Sara smiled when she saw you two sit down underneath the parasol. 

“Maybe the both of you would like a seat that’s more private instead?” She had suggested. Your face erupted into flames when she suggested that. And although you tried to correct it, Kaeya had already confirmed, and you found yourself in a shaded area to the side. The kind of area that everyone implicitly agreed was for honeymooning couples. 

You sat across from him, irritated, and tried to focus on your food. Kaeya, for his part, seemed entirely unbothered. He ate with deliberate slowness, and at one point he leaned across the table, his eye catching yours with a particular brand of teasing softness.

"You're scowling," he said, like it was an observation about the weather.

"I'm not scowling."

"You are." He reached over and tapped your forehead with one finger. "Right here."

You pulled back, but he'd already retreated, that infuriating smile still in place.

By the time you were walking back through the city, your irritation had crystallized into something sharper. Something that demanded to be addressed.

"What are you doing?" you asked, stopping abruptly in the middle of the street.

"Walking," Kaeya said simply. "Same as you."

"Don't be difficult. Everyone keeps thinking we're together and you're not correcting them. You're actually—" you gestured vaguely at the space between you, "—playing into it."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed, that low, warm sound that always seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his chest. When he looked at you, there was something in his expression you couldn't quite place. Something that felt almost like he'd been waiting for you to notice.

"I think you like it more than you're willing to admit," he said softly. His eye was half-lidded, that familiar amusement still there, but underneath it was something else. Something that made your chest feel tight.  "The question is whether I should keep pretending not to notice."

He was already walking ahead, already moving past you with that lazy stride of his, and you were left standing there, flushed and furious and unable to quite articulate why his assumption felt less like teasing and more like he'd read something in you that you weren't ready to show him.

Damn Kaeya.

LOHEN

The training grounds were filled with apprentice knights, all watching intently as you explained the formation they'd be running through. Lohen stood beside you, arms crossed, and you could already feel the restlessness radiating off him like heat.

"This is boring," he said, not bothering to lower his voice. "Just let them fight something real."

"They need to understand positioning first," you replied firmly, not even looking at him. "We're not sending them into the field unprepared."

"Unprepared is half the fun," he said, and you heard the grin in his voice.

You turned to face him. "You know what? Not everyone gets a thrill from almost dying."

"Their loss," he said, and there was something playful in his eyes, something that suggested he enjoyed getting a rise out of you. One of the younger apprentices nudged their friend, both of them watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement.

"This is why we have strategy," you continued, turning back to the group. "Lohen charges in and—"

"And it works," he interjected.

"And you get lucky," you corrected.

He laughed, "Lucky. Right. That's what we're calling it."

The training started smoothly enough. The apprentices moved through the formations you'd drilled into them, and you were positioned to observe and correct. Lohen was supposed to be doing the same, but his attention kept drifting, his foot tapping with barely contained energy. You could see him watching the apprentices with the kind of hunger that meant he was already bored. At one point, you caught him staring at you instead of the recruits, and when you raised an eyebrow in question, he just grinned wider.

After about an hour, one of the younger recruits approached as you and Lohen were standing together reviewing the performance. The recruit was still catching their breath, clearly impressed by how well the formation had held.

"It's lucky that the two of you are paired together," they said, glancing between you both. There was genuine respect in their voice. "Aren't the two of you together?"

The moment those words left the apprentice’s mouth, you could see something wicked shine in Lohen’s eyes. You opened your mouth to clarify, but Lohen moved before you could. He crossed the distance between you in a few strides and pulled you against his side, his arm wrapping around your waist like it had always belonged there. Your face went hot immediately, but he was looking at you with that chaotic grin of his, like he'd just been handed the best entertainment of his day.

"And she's the only person who could ever keep up with me," he said, loud and theatrical, and you could tell he was leaning into it now, performing for the apprentices. You felt your cheeks burn as you realized what he was doing, deliberately making a show of it, spinning this into something bigger just to see you get flustered. The manic energy was at full throttle, and he was clearly enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

Your face went hotter. One of the apprentices bit their lip to keep from smiling, while another looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the display. But most of them were watching with interest, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Lohen—" you started, trying to extract yourself, but he didn't let go. His grip on your waist was firm, not painful, just insistent.

"And she's brilliant," he continued, spinning you slightly so he could look at you properly. His hand was still on your back, and he was looking at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Everything I'm not. Everything that keeps me from getting killed in a ditch somewhere." There was something underneath the chaos when he said it, something that suggested he meant it more than he was letting on.  A few of the recruits exchanged glances, and one of them smiled knowingly.

"You'd be lost without her," one of the bolder apprentices called out, earning a few quiet laughs from the others.

"Completely lost," Lohen agreed, but there was something in the way he said it that wasn't entirely joking. For just a moment, the manic energy seemed to settle, and he looked at you like you were the only thing in the training grounds that mattered. "Actually, yeah. I would be."

Then he released you, and the chaos returned. He was already moving away, already tossing some comments to the apprentices about formation angles, leaving you standing there flustered and hyperaware of every eye on you.

The rest of the training passed in a blur of corrections and positioning. By the time you finally dismissed the apprentices, your face had only just stopped burning. Lohen was already collecting his things, and you found yourself watching him move with that restless energy of his, wondering what he'd actually meant in that moment when everything had seemed to pause.

THOMA

You were sitting in one of the Kamisato estate's quieter rooms, mending a tear in one of the ceremonial clothes when Thoma appeared with tea. He set it down beside you without asking and settled into the seat across from you.

"That's going to take forever," he said, watching you work the needle through the delicate fabric.

"Only if I rush," you replied, concentrating on your stitching. "You taught me that."

He smiled at that, leaning back and watching you work. It was comfortable, the kind of silence that didn't need filling. You'd been coming to this room more often lately, always finding some reason to be here. Mending. Reading. Just sitting. And somehow Thoma always seemed to find his way in.

After a while, he got up and moved to sit beside you instead. He didn't ask permission. He just shifted closer until his shoulder nearly touched yours. He picked up a different piece that needed mending and started working on it without preamble.

"You're still doing that stitch wrong," he said after a while, no judgment in his voice.

"I know," you said, not bothering to correct yourself. "But you always fix it for me anyway."

He smiled, and you swore you could see the pupils of his green eyes dilate a fractional amount. His hand came over yours, guiding the needle through the proper motion. His fingers were warm, and he moved slowly, making sure you understood. When he pulled back, you found yourself missing the contact.

You worked like that for a long time. Sometimes he'd hum something soft under his breath. Sometimes you'd ask him about his day, and he'd answer while still focused on the mending. At one point, you reached for more thread at the same moment he did, and your hands brushed. Neither of you moved away.  You both just continued working, shoulders close, existing together in the quiet of the afternoon.

"You're thinking too hard," he said once, glancing at your face.

"How can you tell?"

"You get this little crease," he said, reaching over and smoothing it away with his thumb. It was such a gentle gesture that you forgot to breathe for a moment.

You were so focused on the mending that you didn't notice when Ayaka appeared in the doorway. She had a few attendants with her, but she stopped when she saw the two of you sitting close together, heads bent over the work, your shoulders nearly touching.

"Oh, there you two are," she said warmly. "I've been meaning to mention something." Thoma looked up, and you followed his gaze.

"There's a couples' festival coming up at the end of the month," Ayaka continued, her tone genuinely kind. 

"I thought perhaps you two might enjoy attending together. It would be nice for you to have some time away from the estate."

You felt your face warm. Thoma's reaction was immediate. His entire face flushed a deep red, from his neck all the way to his ears. He set down the cloth quickly, maybe too quickly, like he needed something to do with his hands.

"Oh, we're—" he started, his voice slightly strained. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he was trying for his usual politeness, but the fluster was unmistakable. "We're not actually together, Lady Ayaka. We just spend a lot of time together because of work, that's all."

The correction was gentle, the way everything Thoma did was gentle. But there was something in the way his hands gripped the cloth a little too tightly, the way he wouldn't quite meet Ayaka's eyes, that made your chest tighten. One of the attendants looked faintly disappointed.

Ayaka's expression softened with understanding, and she nodded. "I see. My apologies for the misunderstanding." She excused herself politely, and the moment she left, the room felt smaller somehow.

You picked up your mending again, but your hands felt clumsy. Thoma did the same, but neither of you were really focused on the work anymore. The ease you'd had before was gone, replaced by something tense and uncertain. The afternoon light filtered through the screens, and the silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid.

When the sun started to set and you finally set down your work, Thoma was already moving. You said something soft to break the tension, just to ease it.

"That was kind of awkward," you said quietly, not quite looking at him.

He paused, his hand lingering on the cloth. You could see him turn it over in his mind, searching for something.

"I didn't mean to be rude," he said, finally meeting your eyes. "She was just... it caught me off guard."

"I know," you said, offering him a small smile. "It's fine. These things happen."

He looked at you for a long moment, and there was something in his expression that made your breath catch. Something that looked like regret, like he was reconsidering something he'd just said.

"Actually," he said, and his voice was steadier now, "about that festival."

You looked at him, waiting.

"It might not be a bad idea," he continued, and there was a careful consideration to his words, like he was choosing each one deliberately. "For us to attend together, I mean. Not because anyone thinks we should. But because..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Because I'd like to spend that evening with you. If you'd want to."

Your breath caught slightly. There was nothing casual about the way he said it, despite how carefully he was choosing his words. There was intention there, and something that looked a lot like hope.

"Yeah," you said softly. "I'd like that."

VENTI

Venti had dragged you out to yet another performance. You weren't sure why he felt the need to do this—invite you specifically, stand you in a particular spot in the crowd where he could see you, like your presence mattered to the mechanics of him playing. But he'd shown up at your door this morning with his elfish smile and asked if you were busy. A pointless question, really. He would have begged and whined until you relented had you said no. 

On the way to the fountain, he'd been insufferable. He kept humming fragments of melodies, stopping abruptly to ask your opinion on them, then laughing at your answers like you'd said something hilarious when you were just trying to be helpful. At one point he'd grabbed your wrist and spun you around on the street for no reason, just to see your expression, probably.

"You're going to make me dizzy," you laugh, pulling your hand back.

"Is that a complaint, windblume?" he asked, and there was something in his tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

"Yes," you lied.

He had just smiled like he could see right through you.

Now, standing near the fountain while he set up, you watched him adjust his lyre with great care; the kind of care reserved for especially special things in one’s life. Which, for Venti, was music and—you were noticing more and more—you. 

He kept glancing over at you, making sure you were in the right spot, making sure you could see him properly. You found it funny, it was almost like a nervous tick. A flick of his gaze to you every few seconds to make especially sure that you had your eyes on him. It was unnecessary. Of course you could see him. You were always looking at him anyway.

Another bard approached as Venti was finishing his setup—someone you recognized vaguely from around the city. They exchanged greetings, the kind of easy familiarity that suggested they knew each other from the musician's circles. You turned your attention back to the fountain, not really listening until the other bard said something that made you tune back in.

"Your recent stuff has been different," he was saying to Venti. "All of it sounds like it's about the same person."

You felt something shift in your chest. His recent stuff? You hadn't really paid that much attention, if you were being honest. But now that it was being pointed out, you found yourself wondering if that was true. 

You'd been hearing him play new things lately, pieces you hadn't heard before, and now you were suddenly wondering who they were about.

The bard glanced over at you, then back at Venti, and you watched something click into place behind his expression.

"That your muse?" he asked, gesturing vaguely in your direction.

Venti laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made people turn their heads, that seemed to move through the air like something physical. He spun—actually spun, his coat catching the light—and when he looked at you, there was something deliberate in the movement.

"The best one I've ever had," he said, and he was looking directly at you when he said it.

Your face went hot. The other bard laughed too, charmed, and the conversation continued between them, but you weren't really listening anymore. You were stuck on that phrase, on the way Venti had said it, on the realization that apparently his recent compositions had been about you and you'd been too oblivious to notice.

An hour later, after the performance was over and you'd managed to slip away, you found yourself at the tavern. You were nursing a drink when Venti sat down beside you. He waved a hand to the bartender, and Charles just sighed—a routine. And then Venti’s gaze was fixed on you.

"You've been thinking about what I said," he observes.

"I haven't," you say, which is a lie and you both know it.

"Mm." He's amused. You can hear it in his voice. "That's exactly why you’ve been zoning out since my  performance?” He had that teasing lilt in his voice. You wanted to puncture his voice box. 

"You can't just say something like that and expect me not to—" you start, then stop because you're not actually sure what you're going to say. Expect you not to what? Wonder if he meant it? Wonder what it means? Wonder if you're reading too much into it?

"Not to what?" Venti prompts, and there's that tilt of his head again, that soft amusement in his expression.

"You know what," you snap, trying not to sound flustered. 

Venti, all he does is laugh. You really want to puncture his voice box. 

thanks so much for reading!!

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

[satorusdreamer]

Seventeen then Twenty-seven

Pairing: former bestfriend!Keigo x reader

Having been sold off to the Hero Public Safety Commission from a young age, you've been told what to do your entire life. Luckily for you, you had your best friend—Keigo Takami—by your side. But all of that changes after making the reckless decision to kiss him in your too-small bed.

Content Warnings: angst, smut and fluff, bestfriends to lovers to rivals to rivals with benefits to lovers, don't take the rivals part too serious, semi-public sex (on top of a high-rise, in front of a window and in a changing room), unprotected & protected p in v sex, creampies, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), implied loss of virginity on both sides, multiple orgasms, squirting, a fuckton of hurt, yearning, misunderstandings, fuck the HPSC and their parents, petty games, reader has a quirk, hurt/comfort, inaccurate timeline (Iknow iknow), pierced Keigo!!!

word count: 22.7k

A/n: I'm so happy I found my drafts of this fic that I made somewhere late last year. The first 1.5k were made last year and I finally decided to expand on it for the Hawks lovers. Art on the left by @/melwakame on x & art on the right by @/kadeart on x. Divider by @/cafekitsune

laying side by side on the way too small bed, especially accounting for the crimson wings that are bigger than the bed itself, you find yourself staring into those golden eyes, close enough that you can see the specks of amber in them.

One of the wings is draped over you, crimson feathers twitching every so often, as if whispering against your skin.

Keigo is retelling a story he overheard from one of the handlers. Giggles fill the room, quiet but genuine.

If either one of your handlers found you two, side by side, in the same room, socializing, you two would be dead. Figuratively (…you hope).

They would call it an distraction, the two perfect weapons as they call you two, talking about life beyond the walls of the life they carved out for you. The prison that your parents sold you off to when you two were younger with sweet smiles and promises that only benefited those who failed you.

The walls here—in this cramped room, bare, save for a bed and a dresser—seem brighter. Not literally, everywhere you look it’s the same industrial gray walls and even floors. No colors, not even floorboards, just concrete.

No personal touch, because that would mean you have something of your own, and they can’t have that. No, your lives belong to them, those who pretend to guide heroes. No it seems brighter because of him.

You scoot a little closer to Keigo, not that there is any space left on the bed. In here its just Keigo and you not the names the Commission gave you, names that you didn’t even choose yourself but were assigned to you two the moment you got sold off. All sense of self being stripped away.

Well they certainly tried to, but that didn’t stop you and Keigo from becoming friends when younger, best friends even. Sneaking off together to have some time for yourselves.

At age 8 he gave you one of his small feathers, alive, twitching, and more importantly, able to pick up your heartbeat if you were to press it to your chest. So I know you're still with me he said with a toothy grin on his face.

It has been there, under your Hero Commission issued gear, for the past 9 years. Not the exact same feather obviously. They ‘rotate’ every few days, because his feathers die out if he detaches them for too long.

The room falls quiet, the weight of silence settling around you. It takes a heartbeat too long to realize that Keigo has stopped speaking. Looking up again you see him looking at you with concern written over his face, thumb brushing over your hip—when did it get there?

“You okay there, dove? You spaced out for some time,” his voice softens when he says ‘dove’, like the nickname holds more than just teasing now. And your heart, the traitorous thing it is, beats a little faster at it.

He grins, small, boyish and a little shy. Of course he could feel that, the feather still pressed over the spot where your heart is, but he could probably also feel it with the way your chest is pressed up against his.

You hope he can’t see your cheeks flush (he can, damn him and his good eyes even though it’s dark inside), and just nod once. “Mm. ‘Was just thinking about the time you lost your tooth because you flew into a wall.” Liar, you were thinking if it would still be like this if the commission gave you two more time for yourselves.

Sometimes you wonder if what you feel is love, being in love with your best friend, what a classic trope. But then you push that thought aside, quickly, like it's dangerous. You can’t afford to let yourself want that.

You two are seventeen years old, getting groomed to be the perfect weapons the commission wants you to be. You know if you were to fantasize about it, they would strip it away in the blink of an eye. No, you can’t be in love with Keigo, for it would only end in heartbreak.

Within a second your world tilts. You're now laying on Keigo’s chest, him laying flat on his back, one of his wings dangling off the bed, the other draped over you. The wing twitches slightly, brushing against you as if it’s trying to reassure you, but it only makes your heart race a little faster. Both his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Liar,” he says with a grin on his, stupidly handsome, face. “C’mon dove, tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that right?” The sincerity on his face makes you move your mouth before even realising it.

You gulp once “I was just thinking about what life would be like outside these walls. What our lives would look like. If you—” you trail off, looking to the side, to the same industrial gray wall you’ve seen all your life, not daring to meet his eyes when telling him the next part.

“If you would still be here, with me,” you finish your thought in a whisper, and the room feels heavier somehow, the silence wrapping around you like a blanket.

You hear him sigh before his hand comes up to cup your face, gentle, as if you’re made of glass. You feel yourself melt into his hand slightly, before you catch yourself. His thumb brushes against your cheekbone, an action so soft compared to the actions they’d made him do just earlier today.

His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, when he finally speaks, “Yeah, dove. I’d still be here. With you.”

His words make your face heat up under his hand. Words are stuck in your throat, because it shouldn’t be like this, the two of you can’t be like this. Still, you look at him, first at his eyes, filled with pure adoration, and then that traitorous part of your brain—your heart really—looks at his lips for a heartbeat too long before ripping your gaze upwards again. Shit.

You can only hope he didn’t notice, but of course you're not that lucky. His soft smile, turns into a teasing, smug one that still has hints of softness underneath. You feel his thumb move down to your jaw. His gaze half-lidded now.

A whisper in the back of your mind warns you of the danger, of how you two shouldn’t do this. There are only seven more months until you two get sent off into ‘the real world.’ Just seven, and then your lives would change, no longer living inside these gray, sterile, walls.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t, dove,” Keigo speaks out, startling you, quickly looking up at him again—when did you look away? Did you say that out loud? You don’t know, all you know is that you’re warm, Keigo’s wing still draped over you, feathers whispering against your skin like soft little love notes, his chest steady and warm underneath you, hearts syncing to the same beat.

Still, you slowly start closing the distance between the two of you, murmuring a “We really shouldn’t.” His head lifts from the pillow, one last whisper, before meeting you halfway “We’re not doing anything.”

The first brush of his lips steals your breath, a clumsy meeting of warmth and want. He tastes like something sweet and sharp, adrenaline and something softer hidden underneath. His wing tightens around you, pulling you closer until you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

It’s desperate in the quietest way—the kind of kiss you give when you’ve both spent your whole lives being told you can’t have this. His hand finds the back of your neck, thumb tracing small, grounding circles there, and you think you could drown in the feel of it.

When you finally pull back, the world feels different. Brighter, maybe. Dangerous, definitely. But you’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Your eyes flutter open, looking straight into Keigo’s. Lips a bit red and swollen, drawing your attention to them once again. There’s a slight flush on his face, creeping down his neck and disappearing into his Commission issued shirt.

Hands tighten in the fabric, his wing still tight around you, the little feathers puffed up a bit on your back. He pulls you up a bit more, nosing along your jawline. “We shouldn’t do anything more often,” he murmurs against your skin.

You laugh, small and breathy. It skims across his face like a gentle breeze, making him think of the clouds he sometimes flies through when the Commission lets him out—only for him to do his mission, which most of the time involves something teenagers shouldn’t be even thinking of doing.

“We really shouldn’t.” with that you capture his lips again, stealing his breath—and heart—once more. Eyelashes fluttering against cheekbones, tongues entangling a bit more expertly now, but still awkward. Noses keep bumping into each other, and you exhale a laugh into his mouth. You feel him smile in return before he tightens his hold on you once more.

The rest of the time together is spent like that, adrenaline filling the both of you. This shouldn’t be happening, you shouldn’t even entertain the thought of kissing someone, much less Keigo—or Hawks, as they call him here.

He shouldn’t even be in your room right now, having snuck out of his own earlier that evening. How the two of you haven’t been caught over the years is beyond you, but then again, the two of you aren’t perfect weapons for nothing.

By the time you pull away from him—still close enough to feel and hear his heartbeat beneath you, feel the way his chest rises and falls with every breath—it’s way past the time he normally sneaks back into his own room.

“You should probably go,” you whisper, and his eyes are still on you—on the way your hair is a bit messy now with the way he was running his hands through it. On the way your lips are red and kiss-bitten. On the way your cheeks are almost as red as his wings. “You’re already later than normal.”

And oh, how he wishes he can just stay here, in the same bed as you, wrap his around around you and fall asleep with your head on his chest. But that isn’t reality, is it? The two of you are still in this mindless dungeon your parents sold you off to. Industrial gray fills his vision when he looks around your room once more. The only thing that makes it seem brighter is you—even if what you’re wearing doesn’t have any color in it.

He’s been thinking about this moment for years. Just being alone with you, having you all to himself, away from the watchful eyes of the Commission. He’d buy an apartment for the two of you, living together to save expenses.

Of course he’d have to feed the Commission some bullshit lie about the two of you working better together. Team building isn’t something they’re fond of, but with the right twist of words he can definitely work something out to keep you close to him.

But for now he knows he should go back to his room. Be mindful of the handful of handlers that sometimes walk through the hallways—always watching, except for when they’re not. He’s memorised their routines. How many steps each handler takes. When they do their rounds. Knows the way the camera’s are angled, and how to avoid them.

He knows, but still he can’t seem to let go of you. His hands on your hips, tracing small, invisible shapes into your skin. He surges forward once more, giving you a small peck this time. “Goodnight, dove.”

“Goodnight, Kei,” you whisper back, before pushing yourself off him so he can get out of the room. He glances back toward you one more time, feathers angled towards you like they’re reaching out, before he dips out of your room and towards his own.

Rolling over you bury your face into the pillow and let out a small squeal—one of the only feelings you let yourself feel while inside of this building. It’s so unlike you, so unlike the person the Commission wants you to be. But you can’t help it.

And then you feel it, under your shirt, pressed over your heart—Keigo’s feather. The one he keeps on you to make sure you’re safe. It wiggles a few times before sliding up and slipping out of your neckline. Right, he can hear you. Huffing through your nose you look at it hovering right in front of you. “What?”

The feather shudders slightly, as if laughing. Dickhead. Then it moves towards your face and taps you on your nose once—a small gesture Keigo loves to do when you’re frowning, and now apparently when you’re squealing, too—before it brushes feather-soft over your lips and disappears into your shirt once more.

Rolling your eyes you finally situate yourself in the bed. But your smile never leaves your face, and even in your sleep you can still feel fingers and feathers all over you.

The next few weeks are spent tense. No secret glances, no lingering touches, no acknowledgement that you and Hawks know each other as more than just two perfect weapons in the making. There are handlers constantly watching the two of you, so if your gaze would fall onto him a second too long, they’d know something is off.

Inside of these concrete walls you cannot show your true emotions, face blank at all times of the day, despite you wanting to reach out and hold Keigo.

You’re not sure what the two of you are right now—except for children that are being groomed by those who are supposed to protect heroes—as you haven’t had a chance to talk to him about it yet. There have been no more talks in your bedroom.

But every time you walk past him, that one small feather at your ribcage wiggles just slightly. A small acknowledgement that he’s seen you, that he can still feel and hear you, despite not being there with you.

It’s harder than you expected it to be. Never in your life would you’ve thought that you’d share a kiss with the boy you’ve spent most of your life with. And never in your life would you have thought you’d come to the conclusion that you are, in fact, in love with said boy.

That doesn’t mean you haven’t talked to him, though. Well… talked is a big word, it’s mostly you who did the talking while he would hover his small feather in front of you, sometimes tapping on your skin if he agreed or disagreed with something. It was a small language the two of you had configured when younger.

A smile threatens to take over your face, before you smooth it over and look ahead again. Your handler is walking behind you—an older woman in her fifties—hands clasped behind her back, clipboard in hand, her heels click click clicking on the linoleum floor below, suit crisp, not a single wrinkle in sight. Her expression schooled—the same way yours is, and everyone else’s in this entire building.

Another set of footsteps can be heard from the other side of the hallway, one a bit more lax, and the other right on their heel. You know that gait anywhere. Hawks.

The two of you walk past each other and bow your heads towards one another. Custom, something they drilled into you. There’s nothing to be seen in his golden eyes, not a glimpse of emotion, nor can it be found in yours.

His birthmarks seem darker in these lights, almost as if they had filled them in with an even darker shade of black before he had to train. You’re sure people will think that it’s simply eyeliner, when it’s not.

One of the little kids here—around six—had asked him if it was, and he’d laughed at them. Small but genuine. It was one of the only times he’s ever shown emotion outside of your room, and it made your heart flutter inside of your ribcage. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by the blond, whose feathers puffed up behind him a little.

The footsteps disappear behind you, indicating that Hawks and his handler are away from earshot, which makes your own handler finally speak up. She talks about quirk swapping the kids, aged ten to fourteen. There are only four in total—seven children in the program, including you and Keigo—but they need to know what it’s like to not fight with their own quirk.

It’s your quirk, being able to swap quirks of others. The first time you told Keigo that, he absolutely lit up and asked you if you could swap quirks with him, which you did without a second thought. You’d warned him it meant he didn’t have a quirk, at all, but he just beamed and told you he wanted to see his wings on you.

Seven year old you had done so after confirming he really was okay with it. When he nodded, you focused and swapped them around. Crimson wings sprouting from your back, while Keigo’s disappeared. It went fine for all but 2 seconds, then it went wrong.

Keigo was so used to his wings, he instinctively leaned forward to keep balance. Without his wings, he toppled forward, center of gravity having shifted, no longer being dragged back by his wings. You in the meantime fell backwards, the heavy wings dragging you down, not having braced for the extra weight you’d be carrying on your back.

Keigo landed on top of you, while you landed on one of your—technically Keigo’s—wings. Pain shot through your spine, and up your skull. Tears pricking at your waterline, and one even slid down your temple and disappeared into your hair.

And then came the noise. It was as if everything was tuned up to the max—you could hear the buzz of electricity in the ceiling lights, keypads, electric doors. Could hear your own heartbeat, blood rushing through you, the sound of the feathers twitching behind your back. And you could even hear his heartbeat and blood rushing through him.

Putting your hands to your ears you tried blocking everything out, but it didn’t help. You could hear everything around you, even when you curled up in a ball.

The boy above you was touching your shoulder, speaking, but even that felt like it was too loud—not registering the words he was desperately trying to tell you. You laid on that floor for what seemed like hours, crying about everything being too loud.

It was only when Keigo started whispering, so soft no one else would’ve heard, that you finally heard what he was saying. ‘Swap it back. Give me my wings back and it’ll be fine.’ And you did just that. The red plumes disappearing behind you and reappearing behind their rightful owner.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you,” Keigo’s voice was trembling a bit, fingers wiping under your eyes to rid them of their tears. “I forgot. I’m used to it now.”

That made your heart stutter a bit. That’s what he hears at all times? It wasn’t something you accounted for. You’ve seen his quirk in action—flying, though it was more hovering in place, and him controlling th individual feathers to slice through objects with precision it scared you—but you never actually asked what it did.

“That’s what you hear all the time?” you breathed out, fingers trembling slightly beside you. Keigo nodded his head, his golden curls bouncing with the motion. The two of you are silent for a bit before you finally spoke up again, “I’m sorry you have to hear all of that.”

He merely shrugged, as if this was normal. As if it’s normal to be able to hear footsteps the floors down. To hear the electricity travel through appliances. To hear your own blood pump through you. And it made little you so incredibly sad. While it’s quiet in the building, it is still loud for him. You always thought it was eerie with how abandoned the building seemed—not because it was falling apart or because there was ivy growing everywhere, but because of how empty it was inside. But for him every single thing is noise.

You’d pulled him into a hug right then and there, and whispered in his ear that you’d talk to him if he ever felt lonely. He merely smiled at you and returned the hug. Just two weapons in training that found solace in each other.

The kids inside the facility, despite being older than you and Keigo were at the time, still remind you of the two of you. The first time you swap their quirks around, they all look confused, still used to how they fight with their own quirk, only to quickly realise they have to adapt.

On one hand it’s a good lesson, you’d never know when you’d lose your quirk during a battle, on the other hand it’s absolutely disgusting that they’re practicing this on barely teens.

You keep swapping quirks around once they get used to how the new quirk feels, just to throw them off. It’s not something you do with great pleasure, but you can’t exactly go against whatever your handler assigns you to do.

It’s something you’ve tried before, only to be put in solitary confinement for a week. In there they still had you practice all sorts of things, but you just didn’t get to be around people anymore. You still shudder every time you think of the place.

Once the handler deems the exorcise to be enough for the kids—almost two whole hours later—you get steered out of the room, onto your next assignment.

“Since you and Hawks are about to debut in a few months, we need to make sure the two of you are desensitized, him moreso than you,” she flips through the papers on her clipboard, occasionally nodding her head at something that’s written down. “You’ll have to act like fans without boundaries. There will be other people pulling him into every direction. Just make sure he doesn’t sharpen his feathers.”

With that she pushes the door open, and in the middle of the room stands Keigo—or Hawks, right now—his red wings spread out into a brilliant arc, showing off all the way from the primaries down to the dowry feathers he has.

His handler is checking his wings, ensuring the strength and health of them, twisting and turning some pieces, and tugging on others. You know he hates that. Hates anyone that touches his wings, except for you. It’s something he’s told you since the two of you were young, said it hurt with how they disregarded the fact that he could feel whenever people touched his feathers, as sensitive as nerve endings.

It took him a while to trust you enough to let the pad of your finger skim over one of the primaries while they were in their half-sharp state. He wasn’t sensitized enough to let you touch his feathers when they were in their resting state just yet, but he did trust you enough that he at least let you touch them. Ever since that moment he started trusting you more and more, to a point where you can now preen him without any problems.

He’s fallen asleep once, when you were preening him after a brutal day. They had him run simulations all day long—fly through rubble and falling buildings, soot and smoke clinging to his feathers turning the brilliant velvet into ash. He had to save hundreds, if not thousands of dummies that were stuck in the wrecks—to a point where the skin at the base of his wings were inflamed.

You’d wanted to trace the skin, soothe it somehow, but you thought better of it. He’d snuck out of his room later that day to get into yours, and the moment you saw him you patted the limited space beside you on the bed.

He’d all but flopped onto the bed with a groan, telling you about how much his wings were hurting him. It’s not something the two of you did often—complain to each other—but after particularly hard days you just had to vent to someone, and who better than your best friend.

So you’d combed your fingers through his wind-swept hair, untangling the obvious knots in them. Sometimes you accidentally tugged on a strand a bit too hard, but he didn’t complain about it even once; merely sighed out into your duvet and kept talking about whatever his mind could conjure up.

At some point your fingers slid down to his wings, and you’d started to carefully preen him. While his wings were cleaner now, there were still some stubborn pieces of soot clinging to them—something you yourself couldn’t get off with just your hands—but that wasn’t something you were after. No, you just carefully started to put every feather into their rightful place, sometimes that meant twisting the feather at the base a bit, and other times that meant getting rid of the keratin casings on the newer feathers.

You weren’t sure when, but somewhere when you switched to preen his other wing, he’d stopped talking and his breath had evened out, eyes fluttering shut. Smiling you continued to preen him.

The sight of the handler tugging on some of the feathers makes you more mad than you should be. Not that you can show it, though. If someone were to suspect anything going on between you and Hawks, you were in some deep shit, whether it be just surface-level friendship, or something deeper. So you swallow and steel your expression.

Your own handler gives a squeeze at your elbow before she leaves the room to go to the monitor room. Once Keigo’s handler steps back, he nods once and walks past you, thrusting a piece of paper and a pen into your hand.

With that, the two of you are left alone. Well… you know there are tens of pairs of eyes upon the two of you, watching, waiting.

And then the simulation starts. A pro hero walks beside Hawks, chatting. The entire room transforms into that of a city, cars buzzing past, people leaving little shops—just a normal day in a city. Not that you and Keigo really know what that looks like.

If you were gonna do this, you could at least have some fun with it. Inhaling, you put a smile on your face, before absolutely squealing. “OH. MY. GOD. IS THAT HAWKS?!”

The simulation responds. People stop on the sidewalk, looking back at ‘the two heroes’, cars slow down slightly. And then you move. Fast. You cross the sidewalk in no time, getting all up in Hawks’ space.

“You’re my favorite hero! I can’t believe I get to meet you— can I get an autograph?” you gush, not giving him a moment to respond before thrusting the pen into his face and holding out the paper the handler gave you.

Hawks, for his part, just smiles, and it makes your heart beat a little faster—something he can definitely hear. “Of course, what’s your name?”

You mumble out a random name before your hand shoots out toward his wing. “These are so cool. And so soft! Do you think I can get one?” You tug on his feathers a bit forcefully, not going as hard as you probably should for the assignment, but you also don’t wanna hurt him.

There’s a slight bristle from his feathers before he smooths them over again. Keigo just chuckles at you, signing your piece of paper before giving back the pen. “Ah, sorry, no can do. Wish I could, though.” He winks over at you before he gets absolutely hoarded by other people—fake or not, they still feel real.

The rest of the day is spent like that, you throwing your arms around him, tugging on his feathers, squealing and screaming. Anything and everything to show the handlers that he’s sensitized enough to be able to walk outside without any problem.

Once the two of you are done, your handler pulls you aside. “We’re gonna run another simulation. Tomorrow. Your turn.”

Right, because they have to know if you’re good enough to swap quirks with him if needed. Luckily the two of you have practiced that many times after the first time.. The Commission telling you that no one else should ever get their hands on his wings, except for you. If he ever loses too many feathers during a fight, you have to jump in and swap quirks. You’ll get his feathers while you give him one of the quirks from the fight—leaving one of the villains Quirkless.

So they have to know you don’t completely shut down in an environment like that. Which you get, but it’s still annoying as fuck.

By the time your handler lets you go, Keigo is already gone. Probably towards his own room for the night. It’s only when you walk past a supply closet that an hand encloses around your wrist and tugs you into it.

The first thing you do is try to twist whoever’s arm it is behind them, but you’re quickly spun around. Your back hits the door with a thud, one hand is covering your mouth while the other is on your hip. “Shhhh, dove, it’s just me.”

Your hands fall to your sides. Blinking a few times your vision sharpens enough to see Keigo’s silhouette. “Fucking hell, Hawks, what are you doing?” you hiss at him once he removes his hand from your mouth. Keigo just smiles at you, small, but dangerous. “What, you think you can just touch me all day without driving me absolutely crazy?”

Right, you did do that, but that was for the assignment. Trying to get an reaction out of him. So what if your fingers skimmed over his most vulnerable parts—the base joints near his shoulder blades—that was all for the assignment, of course.

“You can’t just pull me into a storage closet, what if someone saw us?” you ask him, still not moving from where you’re pressed against the door. “No one saw us, and the camera’s have a dead spot here.”

Damn him and his smart brain. His thumb is tracing small circles on your hipbone, while his other hand creeps up to cup your jaw. Your own arms enclose around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at his nape.

He surges forward, lips crashing against yours in a frenzy. You kiss him back just as eager. It’s been weeks since the last kiss, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him.

“Missed you,” he mumbles against your lips, nose bumping into yours when he angles his head a bit. “Missed you, too.”

His wing wraps itself around you, feathers whispering against your skin over the fabric. They tremble slightly while your tongues entangle, puffing up slightly in affection he can’t hide.

A string of saliva connects the two of you when you pull away from him. It snaps a second later, leaving your lips shiny and slightly swollen. His aren’t any better, small teeth indentations on his bottom lip from where you pulled it between your teeth.

His forehead drops to yours, eyes halflidded and hazed over a little. Your breaths mingling, but mouths not touching any longer. Your chest rises and falls against his, heartbeats syncing, before it stutters once he looks at you like that—pure adoration filling his eyes.

“Hated not being able to see you for so long,” his voice is breathy, a slight groan pulling from his chest when your finger wraps around one of his locks of hair. “Heard you, though.”

And he did. You talked to him almost every night, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he wasn’t there in person with you.

“Only five more months,” you reply. Five more months before the two of you are finally free from this prison they keep you in. Those industrial gray walls you’ve seen almost your entire life. The slightly cold rooms that keep you on edge constantly. “Just five before we can get out of here.”

Keigo just smiles at you, not replying with words, but rather by pressing his lips to yours once more. It’s quiet and full of love. “Then let’s endure them and we can finally stop sneaking around like this, love.”

The nickname has you blinking a few times. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue, ‘dove’ and ‘love’ are so similair, after all. But your cheeks heat up all the same. Nodding your head you peck his lips once more before finally letting go of him.

He steps back slightly, fingers lingering on your hip before retracting completely. You twist the doorknob before looking over your shoulder and smiling slightly. With that you leave him in the supply closet, alone.

Keigo presses his forehead against the door for a few moments to let his heart calm down. He didn’t think he would miss you so damn much, but after that once kiss the two of you shared weeks ago, he hasn’t been able to think of anything but you.

Cursing he runs his hands through his hair once, before opening the door and slipping out. Wings dragging behind him like a cape that holds every little sign of affection he’s had for you since the first day he saw you.

It’s only a few days later when Keigo comes to your room again. You honestly hadn’t expected him today. They’d sent him out on a mission that from the looks of it, was going to take all day, if not all night. But here he is, standing in your door opening.

Sitting up you pat the space beside you, inviting him in like you always do. He crosses the room quickly to go sit beside you. His fingers are playing with each other—a small habit you haven’t seen him do often—while he looks at everything but you.

“You okay?” you ask, your hand reaching for his shoulder, only for him to jerk away before you can touch him. Blinking a few times you let your hand fall back beside you. “Hey, what’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath in, stops fiddling with his fingers, and looks you straight into the eyes. You get slightly lost in everything that they are—golden with those amber specs in them, all predator when he narrows them—before you shake your head slightly.

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” he states, still holding eye contact with you. And you can feel your heart drop to your stomach. Freezing slightly, everything around you seems to slow down—the way you’re breathing, the slight electral buzz that’s always there in the walls somehow feels muffled and distant, hell even Keigo looks far away.

“What?”

“It’s just not going to work. Not with the way the Commission is always on our asses. And- and I don’t think I really have feelings for you,” he vomits the words out like they’re acidic, burning his tongue if they don’t leave fast enough.

It doesn’t compute for a second. The words sound foreign. As if some random stranger came up to you and told you the sky was purple. “I- what? But what about the five months? You said we only had to wait for five more months before we could stop sneaking around.”

Keigo just shakes his head, standing up from your bed. The distance between the two of you feels greater than it actually is, as if there’s a canyon between the two of you, whereas you two were normally all up in each others’ space.

“Just… don’t. This is better. For the both of us.” With that he starts walking toward the door. You feel under your shirt for the red plume that’s pressed to your ribs.

“Then take this back,” you spit towards him, throwing the feather in his direction without a care. He picks it up before slipping out the door, just as quietly as he came in.

When you hear the door click shut behind him, you let yourself fall back onto the thin matrass, staring up at the cold ceiling. There’s this quake in your chest you refuse to acknowledge.

Almost twelve years. Almost twelve years of knowing the boy with his crimson wings. Almost eleven years of being friends. Ten of being ‘best friends’. And yet, two months of being more than best friends, and everything crumbled.

You knew. You knew the friendship you and Keigo built was based on a house of cards, one wrong move and everything would collapse, but never did you think the collapse would look like this—like him being the one pushing the house to collapse.

All those smiles and giggles. All those memories made in corners the Commission could never reach. And now it’s all gone.

All because you let yourself fall in love with your best friend.

The next few months are a hell on earth—not that you weren’t used to it by now, but it’s definitely different not having Keigo by your side. You pushed yourself into assignments more and more; any free time you did have was spent asking for more assignments, or just training in general.

You couldn’t dare to sit in your own room, forced to sit in the silence that feels more suffocating than ever. The walls still carry the laughter. Still carry the gentle warmth Keigo somehow left behind, almost as if his feathers spanned the walls, feather-soft to the touch.

Whenever you’re in your room you just stare blankly at the ceiling, listening to the buzz of the electrics around you. There was one time you had your pillow clutched to your chest, unable to sleep, because you kept seeing golden eyes staring back at you. Crimson wings touching your skin, and those unruly tufts of wind-swept hair.

The pillow still faintly smelled like him at that point, and you tried so hard not to bury your nose into it and inhale like your life depended on it. You were so lost in thought, trying—and failing—not to think about him, that you startled when you felt something prick into your chest.

Moving the pillow you felt something soft brush over your skin, something that felts suspiciously much like a feather. Heart pounding in your chest you ripped the pillow from your chest, hoping to see that familiar crimson plume you threw back at him in a fit of anger, only to see a singular, sad white feather.

Right, pillows are filled with feathers.

Your hands were shaking when you picked it up, swallowing around the lump in your throat, you laid it under your pillow, which you put under your head again. It was something you couldn’t explain, but it just felt right to keep it there, with you.

It’s still under your pillow, even now—almost five months later. Sometimes you pick it up and twirl it around in your finger, watching the way it droops down like it’s sad. And with the right imagination you can imagine it being red, but even when you do that you know it isn’t his.

His feathers were a little harder, not fanned out as much. They were sturdy and so brilliantly red, you couldn’t imagine it being his.

Despite that you still held onto it like it was worth anything more than it actually was. Sometimes you put it under your shirt while you slept, waking up with an itch, almost as if reminding you it shouldn’t be there. Other times you just… talked.

But this feather doesn’t respond to what you’re saying. Doesn’t hover in front of you, shuddering with laughter when you say something stupid. Doesn’t tap your nose or skin in agreement. It’s just there, clutched between your thumb and index finger.

You sometimes wonder if he misses you as much, but then quickly push the thought away. He broke it up for a reason, so you can’t let yourself go down that route.

Whenever you saw him in the hallways, you didn’t look at him. Didn’t nod like you used to, just stared blankly ahead. Teeth clenched, hands balled, leaving small indents on your palms.

He didn’t look at you, either. Always staring ahead. Hand in his pockets while avoiding eye contact. While the two of you never lingered on each other, there were some glances. Now it’s like the two of you are merely strangers.

So no, you wouldn’t admit you miss him, because he’s clearly doing fine without you. The Commission’s golden boy. Now getting even more praise. You hear it from the ‘kids’ all the time—missions he went on, the absolute control he has over his quirk, anything and everything.

You tune everything they say about him out. Never listening too much about what they’re saying. Not the handlers, not the kids.

The two of you had a mission together two weeks ago, which went… okay. Hawks did most of the work, to be completely honest. Something about not needing you there. It honestly stung when he said that, but you pushed the feeling away, merely telling him he could do whatever he wanted. Which he did.

You’d gotten reprimanded about not participating, while Hawks got all the praise. He’d looked over at you with a smirk on his face—not the one he used to give you, no this one was radiating smugness from him—and you wanted to punch it clean off his stupidly handsome face.

Now it’s time for you to step out into the real world. The Commission had gotten you your own agency with a few sidekicks in the Sendai district, while they had sent Hawks to Kyushu—the other side of the country.

You weren’t sure how to feel about that, feelings conflicting in a tight knot inside your chest. On one hand you were glad he wasn’t with you, on the other hand you felt sad because the two of you had dreamed of running an agency together, or at least close enough to each other that you two would be able to frequently see each other.

And with the way the Commission had sent you out on missions together from when you were younger, to training together, you’d absolutely believed they would let the two perfect weapons stay together, strengthening each other. But alas, the two of you had drifted away from each other.

Now you’re looking at the building that supposedly ‘yours’. You know damn well it’s the Commission’s, but you let yourself believe for just a moment that it’s something of your own. They own you, though, so you’re not sure you’ll ever get something of your own.

Stepping inside the lobby you step into a new part of your life—alone.

The first year goes well. You quickly climb the rankings, no doubt the Commission having something to do with it, but it’s still something. You recently just breached the top 10. Your name being everywhere.

The rookie hero who debuts in the top ten!

But wherever your name is, his follows. Hawks being more popular amongst the masses, purely for being so charismatic. You roll your eyes at that, as if you didn’t know damn well how charismatic he can be. And from everything you’ve seen, the smirks, the winks, the little murmured sentences to his fans—all fake.

You’re muttering to yourself about how his real smirk is more awkward, it has that little adorable tilt to it that makes it more cute than sexy. His wink normally isn’t as smooth. The little dimple doesn’t appear on his face when he smiles.

But not that you notice that. Of course not. He’s made it very clear with what the two of you are, which is absolutely nothing. So you don’t look at it too long, always clicking away whenever his face pops up on the screens.

Seems like despite not working together you still can’t get away from him.

The Commission drowns you in assignments. You do your normal patrols, go out when you get paged, and after that you have to do the dirty work no one ever would even think of heroes doing. Granted most heroes don’t do the things you—and Hawks—do.

It makes for a good distraction, though. You’re simply too exhausted to even care about a certain blond-haired crimson-winged hero at the other side of Japan.

That is until the annual hero billboards come around. Your days have been so swamped that you didn’t even realise it was that time of the year already.

So here you are, walking backstage, waiting for the event to start. Number ten.

You know the Commission definitely messed with the numbers, but you aren’t complaining. There’s a lot of things you do that go unnoticed, so maybe this is a way of them telling you you did a good job. Or maybe they’re trying to keep you under their thumbs by putting you in the spotlights so you can’t slack off for even a day.

The perfect weapons.

That’s all you’ll ever be to them. Not a person. Not a hero. A weapon they created to use at their disposal. Same for the guy you spent almost your entire life beside.

Speaking of— your shoulder collides with another, making you stumble slightly. It’s not something that has happened often, your handler always being on your ass to be alert. Vigilant. Stay aware of your surroundings at all times. But with how tired you are you can’t really focus. Seems like even the strongest sometimes need a break.

You’re bowing a full ninety degrees, mumbling out a ‘sorry’ before straightening up again. And all the air seems to leave your lungs.

A pair of golden eyes is staring straight at you, lips pursed, bushy brows furrowed slightly. An annoyed look you weren’t familiar with. Never in the thirteen years of knowing him has he ever looked at you like that—or anyone for that matter, because handlers would have his head if he so much as disobeyed them.

“See you made the top ten,” he mutters out with a scoff, disdain lacing his voice. But you can’t hear him, not really anyway. Your mind already far, far away from the billboards and rather back in those industrial gray rooms that you were so familiar with.

Eyes that are golden with amber specks in them are looking at you. There’s dark marks around the eyes that has your head tilt a bit. Your hand is fisted in the fabric of this tall stranger’s pants—you’ll later learn that it’s your handler, one of the many you’ll get over the years that you’ll stay in that rotten place you’ve never escaped—while you step away from their legs just slightly when you see the boy stand there.

His golden curls bounce on top of his head, a single curl falls into his eyes, which he swipes away with one hand while the other is clutching a plushy of sorts. You’re not familiar with what, or who it is, but it’s clearly a man with a flaming beard.

Your voice doesn’t come to you, throat hoarse from all the screaming you’ve done when your parents told you to stay here with the nice lady while they went out for errands. You just couldn’t understand why they didn’t want to take you with them and rather let you stay with a stranger.

Eyes welled up with fat tears that rolled down the round apples of your cheeks that were blotched red with the way you were crying for your parents.

Why didn’t they want to take you with them?

Nose snotty and eyes completely red-rimmed you were staring at this boy that seemed to be your age. He wasn’t that much taller than you were, but he was calm, looking at you like you were something interesting. And in that moment you calmed down slightly.

The hiccups stopped after a while, when the handler nice lady told you you could play with the boy. That seemed more fun, for a second forgetting your parents just left you here. Maybe being here for a few hours wouldn’t hurt all that much.

Said boy told you his name was Hawks, and you’d giggled then and told him your real name—something you got reprimanded for by the lady, and your little mind just couldn’t understand why she was scolding you for simply telling him your name—in turn.

The rest of the day was spent with giggles and hushed voices. There might not have been much to play with—only giving the two of you a few blocks to play with—but it was enough to keep your mind off the fact that your parents pretty much had abandoned you here.

It was only when the lady came back and told you two to go to bed that you were brought back to reality. Your little fist rubbing your eyes while you asked if mama and papa were there for you. The lady gave you a look, something between disappointment and reprimand, and told you that you were having a sleepover today.

Your lips pursed while your eyebrows furrowed together. As much as you liked this new boy, you weren’t a fan of sleeping over here. Your parents said they would only go out to run some errands, never saying anything about you staying here for the night.

When you’d pleaded with the lady to just go home, she got angry and told you to behave, almost scolding you like a mom does.

That seemed to do something to the young boy, though, because he immediately clamped his mouth shut while his eyes turned blank—the signs of him being happy were simply erased from his face like a light switch was turned off—and he stood up to go to, what you presumed was, his room.

From then on out there were no more playdates, only people testing your quirk out on different people, trying to gauge your power from when you were a mere five years old. Your parents never came back for you, and you later found out that you’d simply been sold off.

But through it all, from that first day up until almost the last, was one person you could always rely on—Keigo. Or as the masses call him: Hawks. That name makes you shudder, for multiple reasons, but mostly because you know what it meant for him to get a name like that. A prisoner in a corrupt system that should’ve never existed to begin with.

And now he’s here, looking at you like you’re a pest in his life. Like you’re one of them. Not trying to hide his disdain for you, and you can’t help but feel a nerve in your jaw tick at the sight.

Sure, you were the person who fell in love with your best friend—which you knew was stupid to begin with, not just because he might not love you back, but also because the Commission would never allow the two of you to be distracted to begin with—but he’s the one who broke whatever it was the two of you had off.

So why is he glaring at you like you’re mere gum on the bottom of his shoe, or that one little barb he never can reach in his wings that you always had to preen for him otherwise he’d get agitated.

“Mhmm. See you did, too. Must’ve been easy, charming every women to get a little more popularity over there,” you smile at him through gritted teeth, trying so incredibly hard not to let anyone who’d walk past see that there’s any animosity between the two of you.

He smiles at you all condescendingly. It makes your eye twitch just slightly, but his eye see the movement—of course they do, the two of you have been trained to look at little tells like that since you were young, always so in tune with other’s emotions—and his grin widens, almost as if he’s won something.

He’s about to retort something when his wings twitch on his back, a movement so minuscule, no one else would catch it, but you know him better than anyone else, even if you don’t want to acknowledge that part right now.

The two of you straighten up and smile at each other—one of the practiced, fake ones that no one would be able to tell was fake to begin with—pretending to chat about the rankings. One of the heroes walks past and nods his head at the two of you, while the two of you bow back to him.

When he’s out of sight you drop the entire persona, not bothering with the fake smiles and niceties. You note the way Hawks relaxes slightly, feathers betraying his every being no matter how much he tries to hide from you, too.

Your hand shoots to your ribs, fingers skimming over your hero suit. The fabric dark with gold details—just like his, because the two of you might not do things together, but the HPSC still has their claws in the two of you—but it’s empty underneath. Just flesh and bone. No red feather that flutters against your skin whenever the blond saw you, or missed you. No longer replies to your sighs.

It’s easy to get lost in all that’s him. The blond and red. The cocky smirk he has on his face, and the slight stubble he’s beginning to grow. It’s easy to get lost, and then get pulled back into the present when he scoffs and walks past you, shoulder deliberately knocking into yours.

You want to spill your heart out when you once again see him walk away from you, just like that night. Wings held high, feathers trembling slightly and the back of his head turned towards yours. Want to tell him that it meant nothing, that the two of you could still be friends, like old times sake. But you know that won’t happen, no matter how much you want it to.

The two of you have simply… grown apart. No longer best friends, or that more-than-bestfriends thing the two of you had before he broke it off. Right now the two of you are colleagues. Strangers with history. Enemies competing for the better spot on a leader board the two of you don’t care about.

Your hand falls from your ribs to your side, and it’s so easy to make him stay, but it’s also easy to let him walk away. Because what good would it do? He’s made his stance very clear on the matter. No longer wanting you in his life, no matter what he had promised you.

Walls no longer industrial gray, but rather a muted white, but they feel more lifeless that the prison that you called your home for years, because a certain someone isn’t there to brighten them up. Only the sun setting into hues of violet and peach paints the room in colors.

He said he’d still be here with you, yet you watch him walk away from you the moment the two of you see each other again.

Fine. So be it.

And that’s how the competition really begins.

After the first hero billboard comes the petty revenge. Flirting more with your fans—showing him that you can use his tactics to become more popular, too. The hero rankings are constantly fluctuating, you and Hawks surpassing each other every time, trading ranks like you’re trading stock.

People online have started putting bets on who will be higher ranked this year. The two rookie heroes going head to head, making for an exciting race, or whatever it is they’re saying.

He garners attention by flirting with his fans, you garner attention by doing a shoot, face plastered on every billboard across Japan. It’s petty. It’s stupid. It’s the only way you can keep him close to you despite being hundreds of kilometers apart.

There’s a nagging voice at the back of your head now every time you see his face or name anywhere on the internet. No longer associated with Keigo but rather with Hawks the hero who you’re competing against.

The second annual billboard ranks you at five while he’s at six. The saccharine smile you plaster on your face when the two of you are on stage ticks him off. You can see it in the little tells, one of his feathers near his scapula is razor-sharp one second, while soft the other.

People start asking the two of you questions—rookie heroes, dating scandals, anything and everything they can get their hands on. You deflect with a smile and a wink, and he does the same.

Later that same night there’s hundreds of clips posted about how the two of you would make such a good team or would be so good together. Your eye twitches at that, fingers cracking with the way you’re balling your hands so hard your nails breach the skin on your palms and blood steadily trickles down your forearm.

What would they know about you being ‘such a good item with him.’ They do not know Hawks the same way you do, and over your dead body would you go back to him. The feud you have with him is at this point more important than anything else.

So you start doing other things on your off time—which you already barely have, but for the sake of winning this god-forsaken competition you’d give up all of your free time—such as going into schools and telling children about safety and what to do in villain attacks.

Your popularity numbers are climbing by the day, more of you can be seen in tabloids. Face plastered all over social media for helping a cat get out of a tree. Bringing in groceries for the nice old lady on the sidewalk. Things you would never do out of your own volition, purely because that hasn’t been trained into you to do.

Seems like you underestimated how low Hawks would step, though. It’s during one of your regular patrols, the sun is blistering down and sweat is beading off your temple and down your jaw. There’s a marker in your hand while a kid is jumping up and down in excitement to get your autograph.

You’re smiling, already thinking of where you could get something to hydrate, the cold surely feeling nice against your parched throat, when a big shadow falls across you.

People starts squealing and pointing into the sky, and sure enough there he is. Hawks. All red wings and cocky smirks, hovering in the air. He circles a few times before touching down, immediately getting mobbed by tens of fans.

Hell, even the kid you were giving an autograph just… runs away from you. Your pen hovering uselessly in the air. The stench that comes from the marker fills your nostrils, and it finally snaps you out of your reverie.

Pinching yourself once, you confirm that Hawks is, in fact, really here. Standing on your turf, talking and taking pictures with your fans. And you can already hear that stupid counter climb up by the second, getting more popularity by just touching down here.

And as if he can feel your gaze on him, he lifts his head lightly, golden eyes finding your form. For a second he just stares blankly, then he smirks and throws a wink into your direction. Fucking dickhead.

Sighing you continue your patrol while already thinking of how you’ll get your revenge.

Kyushu is… different than you expected. You never read up much about it, but you knew it was an island—duh—so you didn’t expect to see high rise towers litter everywhere you looked. The buildings so high you would almost be able to touch a cloud if you opened the window; an over-exaggeration, but still.

You thought the place Hawks chose, or well, the HPSC chose for him would have more sea. You thought the air would smell salty, like the ocean, and hear the waves crash ashore, but nothing is less true.

Fukuoka is a heavily populated city. There’s buildings, cars, and street life everywhere. When you got sent here you thought it might be different than back in Sendai, but nothing is less true.

The mission had been simple. Go undercover for a drug ring, get the info, let the President know what’s happening, and turn the whole thing upside down before they even know someone infiltrated their home.

What you’d failed to consider, though, is the fact that this is the home of a certain crimson-winged hero who could spot you from hundreds of meters away.

Looks like he didn’t spot you, but rather you him. Tiny feathers slicing through the air at lightning speed, multiple civilians getting pulled out of the way by their clothes while the number two hero fights the villains.

It’s a sight for sore eyes, wings almost down to little nubs, no longer able to fly, and it seems like these villains aren’t gonna stop any time soon.

He’s exhausted. There’s too many innocent bystanders nearby that he has to keep track of while also fighting off two other villains. His wings are almost non-existent, most of the feathers having been used up at this point. One feather-blade is in his hand, luckily still able to use it.

There’s sweat beading down his brow, nearly falling into his eye before it drips to the ground, which is littered with debris from the wreckage the villains have done to the city. It’s honestly more than he’s encountered in the years before—here anyway.

Villains of this size were normally more common in Tokyo, but seems like they decided to bother his district this day.

He deflects one attack while scooping up a child that had fallen trying to run away with one of his feathers, returning the child to his mother who was in tears, officers holding her back from running onto an active villain site.

Then he hears it, a sharp whistle he hasn’t heard in years. It’s music to his ears. It grates him. Almost like he can’t decide if he loves you for being here right now, or if he hates the fact that you’re even here to begin with.

He knows you wouldn’t come here out of your own volition, just like he doesn’t go to Sendai unless ordered, so you’re here on a mission. And here you are, seeing him in this pathetic state, nearly losing to two villains.

You’d probably laugh at him when you have the time, tell him he’s gonna drop a rank and you’ll sprint ahead of him again. The swapping of places hasn’t once stopped. The number two and three, constantly swapping places but never getting that number one spot.

But he knows. He knows he should give you the go-ahead. Get this over with. The civilians are the most important thing right now, so he should do what’s best for them—even if that means you get a tally added to the score.

So he gives his signal that it’s okay to swap. His wings slowly disappearing from his back. The feathers that he has in his hand goes limp—just an ordinary red feather right now—just like all the others that he’s used to get the bystanders out of the way.

Some people gasp, while others are already filming. He can feel the way his quirk has been swapped for someone elses—one of the villains, though he doesn’t know which of the two.

The villains in front of him look confused for a split second before they grin again, certainly thinking they have the upperhand now. Hawks can only grin in turn, tucking his feather in his jacker sleeve—a souvenir he can give to fans if they want it.

And then a flurry of red feathers come down—sharp as can be. The villains get pinned down almost immediately while Hawks goes in to put quirk-cancelling handcuffs on them. He sees you walk up to him a few seconds after, whistling with your hands in your pockets—a sight so him it pisses him off. Of course you’d try and mock him while he’s already down.

More people are gasping and screaming each of your names now, but neither of you give them any attention. You stop in front of him, a lazy nod given while the police officers rush onto scene, dragging away the suspects.

There are some words exchanged while you still have his quirk, crimson stark against the dark fabric of your hero suit. And he can see the way the feathers are trembling, just like your fingers. There’s a slight tick in your jaw you never could hide, not even from the Commission.

You’re overstimulated. His quirk simply picking up too many noises at once, while he can’t hear anything at all. It’s something the two of you haven’t done in a long time—swapping quirks. While you did this on a regular years ago, it’s now something foreign. Still, he has to applaud you for keeping your face as neutral as you are right now, because he knows how rowdy people can be.

After the officer is done talking with the two of you he walks away, leaving the two of you to fend for yourselves. Masses crowd around the number two and three, as if you two are merely circus acts and everyone can just do whatever they want.

People want pictures where you have the wings, others are touching the feathers to see if they really are as soft as Hawks’. And he notes how uncomfortable you are right now, shivers running up your spine when someone tugs on one of the feathers, and he sees the way your—technically his—wings are twitching like they want to lash out.

So he whispers, as low as he can go, that the two of you can get out of here if you just fly away with him. Which is exactly what you do, picking him up with ease—ease that was never there to begin with since he was heavier with the wings dragging behind him—and flying away from the crowd to one of the high-rises.

It’s an bumpy, unsteady flight all the way up to the tallest building there is, and he has to cling onto you to not plummet to his death. Once you land, clumsy and everything, you set him down.

Your wings shudder behind you before they disappear from your back and form back onto Hawks’—only for there to be stubs instead of actual, massive wings he normally has.

There’s sweat clinging to your spine and beading down your temple. You’d forgotten just how loud his world actually is, not having had to bother with it for years on end. That of course doesn’t mean you forgot what his quirk can do—things no one else in the world except for the President and a few handlers know.

You straighten up, swallowing past the bile that was threatening to come up if you stayed down there any longer, you nod to yourself. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

The blond is just watching you, for once having no quip ready on the tip of his tongue, but rather just… looking. There’s a hint of concern he can’t quite seem to hide from you, but you don’t focus too much on that.

Walking up to him you pat him on the back, just between his scapulae where he’s the most sensitive. A little payback you’d say, not just for the fact that you had to get the two of you out of there since he didn’t have enough feathers to even fly, but also for all the bullshit he had pulled this year to get ahead of you.

“Well, see you later, number three,” your voice mock-cheerful. You were the number three hero currently, but with today’s save, or whatever you want to call it, you’re sure your rank will rise once again, surpassing Hawks’. “Gotta do stuff.”

Before you can even walk away a gloved hand wraps itself around your wrist, tugging you back. Another hand finds itself on your hip, warm and familiar in a way you don’t want to acknowledge right now. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Clenching your jaw you look over at the blond, brows furrowing and lips pursing into a straight line. You don’t bother to conceal your expression right now, there’s no one around to see, so you can just show your disdain on your face whenever you want—one of the special occasions.

“Oh I’m sorry, I forgot. I… gotta… go,” you slowly annunciate every word, almost as if you’re talking to a deaf person with dementia who has to lip read. You know he can hear you just fine—while he might not be able to hear everything, his ears still work perfectly fine.

The next instant you’re backed onto a brick wall of the bulkhead. Rough stone scraping against your back through the fabric of your hero suit. It has you gasping out slightly, not thinking he would do something like this.

“You’re such a brat sometimes,” he breathes out, pupils almost like slits, and oh, he’s pissed. Not his normal relaxed self, but rather actually annoyed at something you did—and if you had to guess it was to hit him where it hurt the most. “You should be happy I even gave you the go-ahead to use my quirk.”

That ticks you off. It’s not like you want to use his quirk, but he was in a bind and he knows it. If it were up to you, you would never even think of using his quirk. So you do what you know best—hands coming around to his back to where the little wings are still uncovered, one of your fingers tracing over his feather. Slow and teasing.

He groans out at the sensation, eyes fluttering closed for just a second before he opens them again, pupils dilated slightly. Then he turns you around, your chest pressing up to the stone while your cheek lays flat against the rough texture. A gasp rips itself from your throat.

His breath ghosts the shell of your ear while he presses his chest against your back, and you feel the bulge in his pants on your ass, making you gulp out. He cannot be serious right now.

“You sure you wanna do this, birdie?” the nickname has you close your eyes for a split-second. For a moment you can hear it echo in your head, distort it until you hear that all too familiar nickname: ‘dove’, but he doesn’t, he just uses the same nicknames he gives his fangirls.

You scoff out at it, and try to wiggle your way from him, only for your ass to brush his bulge. He moans out at the sensation before pushing his hips further into you—pressing it right against your ass so you can feel just how hard he is. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Pressing your thighs together, you can feel yourself getting hot and bothered. Even after all these years he still gets you going like no other—not that you’ve ever even looked at someone else. The competition between you two has had your focus so much that you haven’t even had the time to go on a date, and honestly you didn’t care to go on one, either.

When you don’t say anything he chuckles. It comes deep from his chest, rumbling it with the sound that’s completely foreign to you.

“Who would’ve thought,” he whispers, fingers slowly tracing up and down your side, not groping, not grabbing, just tracing featherlight touches along your sides while he humps against your ass. It’s almost as if he isn’t aware of his own ministrations, simply rutting against you like a dog in heat—better yet, like a bird in heat. “Bet you flew us here just to rile me up.”

One of his hands slowly goes to the front, fingers skimming your ribs, just where his feather always used to lay. He makes a little shape there before his fingers trace upwards, squeezing your tit once over the fabric. Shivers run down your spine, straight into your core, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Panties sticking uncomfortably to your folds.

“Hah, you wish—shit,” your head lolls back onto his shoulder when he finds your nipple over the fabric, pinching and rolling the bud between his forefinger and thumb before he tugs on it slightly. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“You’re gonna be full of me in a second,” he murmurs against your cheek, hips never ceasing their motion, while his other hand finally trails down, stopping just at your pants. It’s only when you nod at him that he slips his fingers inside them, digits finding your heat immediately. “Oh? So wet for someone who’s ‘so full of himself’.”

His fingers move over your panties, lightly caressing it, almost like he’s preening himself—careful not to press too hard, nor move too fast, and it has you absolutely whining out for him.

“R-really, that’s all you can come up with. Thought you’d have some—fuck just keep them there—more practice with your l-little fangirls,” you moan out when his fingers skim over your clit, not pressing or rubbing, just featherlight touches that drive you absolutely crazy for him.

Chuckling his finger finally presses down onto your clit, moving it in small circles while pleasure shoots up your core. Your hand clamps itself onto his forearm, not trying to move it, just holding onto it while you gasp out into the open air.

“That’s itttt, love it when your rival plays with your pussy hmmm?” his finger doesn’t stop, just keeps circling your nub until you’re whining out. “Just put them in already, Hawks.”

He makes a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat—something between a hum and a groan—before he finally moves your panties aside and glides one finger through your slick folds. The feeling of the pads of his fingers directly on your skin has you arching into his touch, trying to chase his fingers even though he keeps sliding them through your folds.

One of his fingers finally slide inside your snug walls, warm and wet around him. It has you struggling to catch your breath. When was the last time you even got time to get yourself off? The feeling of his singular finger so much thicker than your own, eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

He slowly starts to pump in and out of your pussy, walls clinging onto him every time he tries to slide his finger out. Soon another one joins the first, stretching you out even further. Blunt nails dig themselves into his forearm, making him hiss out.

“F-feels so good,” you whimper out, careful not to be too noisy. There might not be anyone around, but if someone living in the apartments below, there’s a possibility they’d be able to hear you, and you’d rather not get caught getting fingered by your so-called rival.

His hips pick up pace behind you, still rutting against your ass like a damn animal in heat. Groans fall from his lips like an open faucet, never once stopping. He curls his fingers up while his thumb grazes your clit before it presses down onto it—adding all the more stimulation.

Trusting his fingers in and out a few times, he finally finds a spot that has you actively keen out, your other hand slapping itself over your mouth when he continues to attack your g-spot with his fingers. “F-fuck, please keep them there.”

Hawks just groans while his hips stutter behind you, fingers keeping their pace. Your thighs are starting to shake, knees buckling slightly. Suddenly there’s a tug on your nipple, completely forgetting his hand was still on your breast, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “Cumming, cumming— oh shit.”

Your orgasm shoots through you, and it’s so much more powerful than ever before. At the same time his hips cease behind you, warmth seeping through his pants while he muffles a moan into your shoulder.

It’s only when you catch your breath that you look at him from the corner of your eyes. “Did you just cum in your pants just by rutting yourself against my ass?”

His fingers slip from your heat, cunt clenching around nothing after his fingers retreat, when they come down with a quick slap to your clit. You jump slightly at the feeling, yelping while your head turns to the side to look at him.

“Shut up,” his cheeks are blotched pink, not once daring to look you in the eye, confirming what you thought had happened. He eyes his hand, spreading his fingers slightly, looking at the way your arousal webs between his fingers before they snap!

Almost in a trance he pops his fingers in his mouth, lips wrapping around the digits while his tongue licks the wetness right off. He moans out at the taste, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull while he can feel his dick twitch to life in his pants again.

Your mouth falls open at the sight, so sinful it makes you all the more hornier. Without realising your hips are moving back, ass brushing against his hardening cock, which he gives a quick slap. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, lips shiny with a mixture of spit and cum, having your eyes snap to them. “Still haven’t had enough, thought you hated me?”

You roll your eyes at that, not bothering to confirm nor deny his accusations. Turning around your hand cups his member, palm pressing against it while you smile sweetly up at him. “Could say the same thing for you, Hawks.”

He growls—actually growls—at that, eyes narrowing down at you before his fingers make quick work of your pants. You unbuckle his belt, fingers fumbling slightly with how they’re trembling, and you can only hope he doesn’t see it.

He frees his cock from his underwear, mushroom tip angry red and shiny with cum. Giving it a few tugs he gets himself fully hard again. His other hand creeps down your thigh before he grabs just below your knee and hoists your leg up to put it around his waist. Your other feet shuffles around on the ground slightly, trying to find your balance again, while your hand shoots out to grab his shoulder—this time careful not to touch anywhere near his wings.

“Sure you’re ready for this?” he asks, fingers toying with your panties that are soaked through at this point, flimsy material doing nothing to hide your swollen folds.

“Just put it in already,” you roll your eyes at him, watching the way he once again pulls your panties to the side while he lines himself up. There’s anticipation and slight dread running through you now. Are you ready? Did he prep you enough? How are you even sure you can take him?

He glides his shaft through your folds a few times, skin getting shiny with your slick, when his tip rubs over your clit, shooting more pleasure through you. It’s only when he glides over it once again that you feel it—something metal.

Dickhead has a dick piercing.

“Bet your f-fangirls love that,” you whimper out, still eyeing the way he’s gliding through your folds, tip catching on your entrance only to move it up again, and again, and again. “How many compliments did you ge—fuuuckk.”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, instead finally deciding to push inside. The stretch feel insane, walls clamping down immediately, tip pushing past that first ring of resistance. Tears immediately spring to your eyes, and your hand tightens on his shoulder.

“S-shit, ease up, d— birdie,” he grunts out, not trying to push in any further. His hand comes down to your hip, thumb rubbing circles on your hip while he lets you adjust to the stretch. “You always this t-tight, or is it just me who has that effect on you?”

“Shut up,” you whine, not caring how you sound right now. You let your body slump to the wall behind you, sweat starting to collect at your nape again. Never in your life did you think it would feel like this. “Y-you can move.”

Looking at you for a few more seconds he slowly inches in, the stretch torturous, and he isn’t even half-way in yet. You claw at his shoulders, trying to find anything to hold onto while he was splitting you open.

“Just a few more inches,” he murmurs down at you with—is that concern? in his voice, thumb sliding from your hip to your clit, rubbing small figure eights on it to help you relax slightly. A few more inches? Looking down you see the way his skin is wrinkling at the base, and yup, he still had two more inches give or take left.

Once he finally bottoms out he lets his head fall forward, straight against your collarbone, breath hot even through the fabric. His tip is smooched against your cervix, and you can feel the two barbells of his piercing sit snug against your walls, even when he isn’t moving.

It’s a weird sensation—the metal cool against your warm cunt, smooth surface rubbing you just right. After a few moment he finally pulls his hips back—just slightly—and thrusts back in. It’s a shallow thrust, but it knocks the breath right out of your lungs.

“Y-you always this weak when fucking your girls?” You shouldn’t ask it, you don’t even want to know his answer to it, but your mouth is moving before your brain can even catch up. Luckily for you he doesn’t reply, only pulls out further before thrusting back in, making you moan out.

He sets a steady pace after that, hips pulling out halfway only to thrust back in, tip hitting your cervix each and every time, pre clinging to your walls. Moans and groans fill the air while the two of you are too lost in the pleasure to even taunt each other.

“F-fuck, pussy gripping onto me—shit look at that—like she doesn’t want me to leave,” he groans out, eyeing the way your lips are wrapping around him every time he pulls out.

“Maybe she just wants you to cum so she can get away from you,” you mutter out, which he hears loud and clear. The stubs on his backs flutter slightly, not bothering to hide any reaction you pull out of him any longer.

His eyes narrow at you before his hand that’s still rubbing circles stops. The pleasure dwindles slightly, only for him to set a more brutal pace, balls slapping against your ass while he pummels into your poor pussy.

“Yeah? Well then maybe— oh fuck… maybe I shouldn’t get you off,” he changes his angle slightly, hiking your leg further up his waist before he starts pistoning his hips in and out of you, an audible squelch can be heard every time he bottoms out.

“Don’t need you—there, please there,” your eyes roll back while you babble out ‘please’ and ‘there’ over and over again. Your mouth falls open, high off ecstasy while Hawks keeps bullying your g-spot with lethal precision.

“There, yeah? Fuck feel her clamping down on me. What was that… hahhh, about not needing me?” he grunts out while he can feel his abs start to tighten.

Your own hand comes down to your sensitive clit, rubbing circles on it while you’re incoherently babbling now, cock-drunk on the way he’s pummeling into your weeping hole. “Gonna—” you gasp out, before it cuts off with a choked cry. Your walls spasm around him while you get thrown into your second climax of the day, thighs trembling slightly.

“F-fuck,” he chokes out before he thrusts once more, hips stilling while he paints your entire walls white. His wings twitch and flex against his back, and you’re pretty sure you can see the left over feathers sharpen and soften against his back through your hazed-out mind.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just breathing in each other’s presence, not daring to move. It’s only when he pulls out with a hiss that you realise the situation. Looking down you see his seed bubble out of you, a bit of red mixed in the mess.

Hawks also sees it, looking down with concern at you. “Shit— fuck, are you okay?”

Rolling your eyes you let your leg fall from his hips, and your thigh almost immediately seizes up. Luckily you can deal with cramps—having been through enough training that this doesn’t feel like anything anymore—but the foreign feeling of your pussy having been stretched out has you grit your teeth.

“That’s your blood,” you mumble out, swiping your thumb on a cut just on his eyebrow. It leaves behind a trail of red, staining your finger in the crimson substance. Holding it up for him to see you just swallows and nods once.

Wiping it off on your uniform, you put your panties back in place, grimacing slightly when you feel the sticky substance ooze out of you. Pulling up your pants you pat everything down to see if you still have everything before straightening up.

There’s an awkward beat where the two of you just look at each other. And it finally sinks in what just happened. You fucked Hawks. Your ex-bestfriend, ex-lover, current rival. The one person you swore you would be done with.

Swallowing you quickly push yourself from the brick wall, finally noticing just how much your back hurts at the moment. Running your fingers through your hair you nod once towards the hero before you open the door and walk away from whatever all of this is.

And while you awkwardly walk down the stairs—gait off and your hole pulsing around nothing—you know that you’re absolutely and utterly fucked.

The time after that moves weird. You hadn’t seen anything of the crimson-winged hero while you stayed in Kyushu, only hearing people whisper about him in passing, but never once seeing that blur of red move through the sky.

You know somewhere deep down that he’s avoiding you, and you’re honestly doing the same. The night in the safehouse after what happened made you unable to sleep, eyes blinking up at that same industrial gray you’ve seen your entire life, and for just a moment—just one—you could feel him beside you on that bed. Only this bed was bigger than the one you had for twelve years.

When you closed your eyes you could feel the way his breath would ghost your skin while laying beside you, his wing flopped over you like a soft, unique blanket that sometimes twitched whenever either of the two of you moved.

Could still feel the way he would trace soft patterns over your arms when he thought you’d fallen asleep before he was out of the room. Could still feel the gentleness in his gazze whenever he looked at you.

But when you opened your eyes you were met by silence. No soft whisper of feathers ruffling or the soft breathing pattern he always had around you—something that had been trained into the two of you. There was still that small electral buzz you were familiar with, but it made your heart only do more complicated flips.

It was like you were suddenly thrown back to when you were seventeen years old and got told that the two of you shouldn’t see each other anymore.

And just like then, you have a feather in your hand. Soft, white, and itchy. Not the crimson, alive feather you used to wear like a shield. Like a promise etched onto your skin. But rather just a dead feather from god-knows-where.

It droops to the side sadly, like it’s reminding you that this isn’t what you were familiar with for half your life. But still you put it on your chest and begin talking to it like it can respond. The stories are quite silly, and you would never actually say all of these things out loud—when you’d done grocery shopping online, the latest villain arrest, a short story about how your sidekick had put soap in the food instead of olive oil.

You’re gesturing around the room wildly, a small smile on your face while your eyes are closed. It’s easier that way, telling stories to a feather that can’t respond. But for a moment you just let yourself believe it can. Let yourself believe that you’re seventeen years old again and that you’re ranting to your friend.

The golden-eyed boy across the hall that always looked like you were more than the weapon they were trying to make you out to be. The one who you shared secret glances and giggles with. The one who put a warm hand over your stomach whenever your cramps got too much, but the handlers just kept pushing you to do more more more.

And when you open your eyes, there’s a slight part in your heart that yearns to see that red feather hovering in front of your eyes. But you’re met with air. The white feather still laying on your chest, not moving an inch from where you last put it.

A tear slides down your face before you can stop it. Quickly wiping it away you chuckle into the empty room. No one can hear you, after all, so why would you care?

There’s a slight throbbing between your legs, soreness running through your muscles—an type of sore you’ve never been before, and it scares you slightly—while there’s no one to tell you it’s okay.

Rolling over you look at the empty spot beside you in the bed. It’s cold and pristine, not a wrinkle in sight. How many times have you imagined there to be someone beside you? It’s honestly too many to count, and you can’t help but let another tear slide down your face.

There’s a slight discontent in your heart that tells you that after today he’ll never even look at you anymore. That this will be just like what happened seven years ago, where he told you the two of you couldn’t be together and walked out of your life.

You had this silly competition, chasing after numbers the two of you knew didn’t matter. While other heroes yearn to be in the top 10, the two of you treated it as an game to one-up one another. Taunting the other with whoever has the higher rank that year.

That was the only time you talked to him, honestly. The annual Japanese Hero Billboard Chart. One of the only times you’d see him in real life instead of on a screen with an update on his latest endeavor.

And somewhere deep down you know that even that will cease to exist after today. The silly competition will be over, no more trying to get more popular, but rather just actually focusing on what the two of you are—heroes.

You grab your pillow, squeezing it to your chest. Of course you had to fuck it up once more.

The pillow feels to hard. Too many feathers stuffed into the thing, and without thinking about it you rip it open, hundreds of little feathers spilling from the casing. Sitting up you look around the room knowing that each safehouse had a small kit with a thread and needle stored somewhere.

Searching around for it, you find it under the sink. Sitting on the bed once more—a few feathers poking you in the butt and your legs—you get to work.

Hours pass, the dark night sky changing to the soft break of dawn that paints the entire sky hues of orange, to daylight where the sun is shining onto the sealed windows.

Your hands are cramping and bleeding slightly, small spots of red against the stark white feathers that make you just wanna cut your hand open to stain them red entirely—something you decide against when you repeat it in your head.

When you finally lay down the thread and needle you look up at your nightstand. It’s just past twelve in the afternoon, which gives you plenty of time to still get ready for the mission. Scrubbing a hand over your face you look down onto the bed.

An entire sheet of feathers lay there, neatly sown together in something that resembles the form of a wing. The entire thing is soft and way too itchy, but you still run your hands through it, hoping that one of them would twitch.

They never do.

Leaning your body back you look over at the wall, just… staring at it for a good few minutes. Since when were you so lonely that you had to sow together a whole feather blanket just to be reminded of when you were younger?

A small chuckle escapes your lips. Hollow and heartbroken. Of course, of course you would go ahead and fuck him after what happened when you kissed him last time.

Hands shaking you put the feather blanket over your legs, trying to feel the warmth in them—but they are too different. Even your brain knows this isn’t what you want, but it’s the closest what you can get. Sighing you get up to get ready for the day.

The mission comes before anything and everything else.

After that night you haven’t been able to focus, quickly losing sleep and some of your popularity considering you haven’t been doing that good of a job interacting with your fans. You were short and snappy with them sometimes, almost like a bird that’s being cornered into a cage.

Your number two rank—because you did get to two after that save—quickly dropped to four over the span of mere weeks. Tabloids printing out more and more articles about you. Speculations, your latest mishap, you name it and it’s there.

And of course wherever your name went, his was not far behind. Hawks, the number two hero, charming his way with the ladies once more. His ruby studs catching the light just right in the latest picture, and you know his magpie brain loves to see it.

Clicking the screen off you let yourself fall backward. This isn’t what you wanted, not even close. And just like you expected, there’s no more real competition. But maybe that’s also because you’re not letting there be competition.

The Commission has been on your ass about your latest endeavors, scolding you and even putting cameras inside of your own agency, just so they can keep track of what you’re doing in there.

Your sidekicks have been eyeing you carefully, but you just smile at them and tell them everything is fine. Because it is, isn’t it?

No matter how much time passes, every time you get home—if you even get the time to go back to your own apartment, nothing Commission owned—you look in the almost-empty closet and fish out the little feather blanket you made weeks ago.

Every time you can’t sleep, you lay it over you, just to try and trick your brain that everything will be okay, even when it will never be again.

The Hero Billboard Chart that year felt brutal. You fell down the rankings—now the number five hero—while Hawks was at his number two spot. It’s been the first time in years since the two of you didn’t stand next to each other. And oh boy, didn’t people have their opinions about it.

There’s speculation, children and adults alike screaming at the two of you asking if something happened. Others are more bold and ask if the two of you had a falling out of sorts. And of course there are the shippers who are making sad edits about you and Hawks, compiling every picture the two of you are in together to throw a sad song over it while unrelated pictures get used.

It’s honestly… something. Never in a million years would you have thought that people cared like to this extent. The two of you weren’t that close. Not in the public’s eye anyway, and no one knows about the history you have with the birdbrain.

So why is everyone always trying to get you two together anyway? Is it because you two debuted at the same time and rose the rankings together? Or do they see something deeper you yourself are refusing to admit?

Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, because the HPSC is once again calling a meeting. Walking in you see that one face you were dreading to see, but you can’t just walk back out. Steeling your face you go to sit down at the long table that’s filled with people in business suits.

The meeting drones on and on. Beginning with reprimanding you for losing rank so fast. Rolling your eyes you let them talk about how they are going to rectify things, as if being the number five isn’t good enough.

A pawn. That’s still all you are to these people. Just a little piece on a much bigger board they can use any time they want. Same goes for the crimson-winged hero across from you. He’s leaning back, arms behind his head while he leans back.

There’s a beat of silence before your handler finally speaks up. “The two of you will do an ad together. Just to show everyone there’s no bad blood.”

That makes you freeze up slightly, hairs standing on end like someone threw a cold bucket of water over you. The blond across from you also halts for half a second—one you’re sure everyone around the table saw—before he smiles, big and bright.

“And what would this ad be?” he almost purrs across the table, canines on full display while he sits up a little straighter. The lax position from minutes ago disappearing completely.

The handler looks you over for a second, then him, then looks down at the tablet, just to create a little suspense. You know she knows what the ad is about, everyone here, except for you and Hawks do. They never call in a meeting without being prepared to the max.

“It’s an underwear ad. They want to advertise their new matching sets—for partners. The two of you can do that, right?”

Of course. Of course they would throw you in the deep end like this. It isn’t even just the fact that you have to do an ad with him, but the forced close proximity and underwear. Fucking great. Across from you Hawks’ eyebrows shoot up.

“An underwear ad,” he echoes, dragging every syllable like he’s chewing on taffy and trying to figure out how to get it out of his mouth. “For couples.”

Everyone at the table looks at him before his own handler smiles, cold and devoid of any emotion. “The two of you can do that, right? Show the world there’s no bad blood like they think there is. Just two heroes who are competing to be the better hero.”

You nod slowly, mechanically. There’s no saying no to this, and he knows it as well. His golden eyes flit over to yours, and for the first time in forever you can see a glint of emotion in there. It’s gone as quick as it came, but you swear there was some relief in there.

Which is why you’re here now, two weeks later in a warehouse that doubles as the set. There are people everywhere around you. Two are working on your body, lotioning it up so it looks good in the lighting—or whatever they said, you weren’t really listening to begin with to be completely honest—while there are another two people working on your hair and makeup.

The underwear is plain. A little heart cut out on your ass—nothing scandalous, just something cute—while there is a little bow on the front. Your bra also has a cute little bow at the front, tits sitting snug in it, and it’s honestly cute.

You can hear the assistants whisper to each other about everything and anything, but most of the time yours and Hawks’ name fall from their lips. Straining your ears you can just about hear what they’re saying—He’s adorable’ ‘adorable? he’s so hot.’ ‘I think I like her more’ ‘Fine then, more for me’.

They’re giggling as if you can’t hear what they’re saying, and if you can hear it, you’re certain he can, too.Speaking of, looking in the mirror you can see him walk up and lean against the doorframe, arms over his chest, biceps bulging.

He’s in nothing but boxers, and you have to keep your eyes up to not ogle him. Lean frame gotten a bit more defined over the years, but nothing extreme. He has to be able to fly, after all, and it would be more difficult if he was on the bigger side.

The stylist puts on some lipgloss before she steps away with an watchful eye. Once she determines everything is fine she nods at you to go stand up. Walking over to the guy who fills every room without even trying—though his wings certainly had something to do with that—you stop just short in front of him.

He lets his eyes rake over you, stopping just slightly when he sees the cute bow before he whistles. Low and sharp. A catcall if you ever heard one. Your hand shoots up and hits him on the back of his head, a small little flick of your wrist.

There’s a small, sharp sting on the back of his head. Not hurting him enough to complain, but enough to get him back into the present. The two of you are not alone, and when he looks around, he can see almost every eye on the two of you.

Right. Just an ad campaign and not just the two of you.

“Ready?” he murmurs, pushing himself upright before stepping aside slightly. You roll your eyes at him before pushing past him to make your way to the set. He flicks two fingers into the air to everyone in the dressing room before he turns to follow you. And, oh—oh now that’s unfair. The little heart cutout has his eyes drawn to it.

It’s cute, small enough to be inconspicuous, but enough for him to notice. And notice he does. His feathers bristle slightly before he has to calm them down. Memories of months ago filling his head. You pushed to the brick wall, your warm, wet walls clamping down on his fingers, on his dick—shit.

He flexes his arms in hopes to get the blood rushing to there instead of down there. And he already knows this is going to be a long day.

The director is absolutely delighted when he sees the two of you walk in, immediately shaking your hands and thanking the two of you for coming, since he knows how busy hero work is. He’s absolutely beaming when you start talking a bit more, but then remembers he has to actually put the two of you in positions for the shoot.

It starts out with Keigo sitting down, muscled thighs spread oud, and you have to perch on his lap. Of fucking course. This is a couples ad, after all. But that didn’t mean you weren’t hoping it wouldn’t be like this.

Still the shoot goes on, running through multiple poses. Sitting on his lap, standing in front of each other, standing in front of him while you were with your back turned toward the camera, one of his hands on you waist, which slid lower lower lower, until he was grabbing your ass—which the director absolutely loved to see.

‘Make it more sensual.’ ‘Good, good, look each other in the eyes like you mean in.’ ‘Oh, yes yes that! that’s it!’ ‘Put your hand on his chest—there we goo.’ ‘This is looking good guys.’ ‘Okay now I just need something that shows off the front. Ohhh that’s good!’

He was… energetic to say the least.

By the time the two of you are done with the shoot—having had solo shots done as well—it’s already late at night. Most of the people have packed up already with a promise to go to dinner together, while there are still a few people walking around.

You’re in your dressing room removing your makeup when the door opens. Looking up through the mirror you can see Hawks leaned against the door, crimson wings spread open slightly while his arms are over his chest. Still in just his underwear—same as you.

You’re not sure what happened next. One minute he was talking to you—taunting you, really—and the next the two of you are stumbling to the couch, fingers groping and touching everywhere your eyes can see.

You’re laying on your back, hair splayed out underneath you while Hawks stands over you, teeth in the wrapper of the rubber that he— “Where did you even get that from?” He walked in here in just his boxers, so unless he was hiding it in there you have no idea where he got it from.

“Sent a feather to retreat one from my wallet,” he chuckles before he drops the last piece of clothing, dick springing free and hitting his bellybutton. He’s already hard and leaking for you—a sight you cannot get used to—and the soft amber lighting of the mirror shows you the two barbells just under his tip.

Fuck, if that isn’t hot. Your thighs squeeze together while you feel yourself start to soak through your underwear, white fabric almost turning translucent, sticking to your folds that leaves nothing up to the imagination.

Rolling the condom on he positions himself between your legs, hand at his base tapping his tip on your clit over the fabric a few times. Each tap has your thighs jolt, almost clamping them shut before you feel multiple feathers on them, keeping you nice and spread for him.

“You always like to tease this much or— or are you trying to keep me here longer?” you ask him through your teeth, annoyance dripping from your voice. It just makes him chuckle, golden eyes trained on where you were dripping for him. “Hmm, just wanna get you nice ‘n wet for me, but seems like I don’t have to do much, do I?

You roll your eyes at the statement. It’s not like he’s wrong, though. There’s no hiding it, either, not with the way your spread out for him.

He finally takes your panties off, hooking his slender fingers into the waistband before he lets it snap against your skin once, having you jolt out, before he finally takes them off. He looks down at the way you’re spread open for him—wet slit spread open for him with the way his feathers are keeping you open, and he can’t help but pry your lips open ever further with his thumbs.

Your hole clenches around nothing, more arousal dripping out of you and down the couch. He’s just staring for a few seconds, pupils blown out at the sight, and it would’ve made you chuckle—taunt him about hypnotizing him with your pussy—if it wasn’t for him putting his thumb in your weeping hole.

“Fuck, Hawks. Wanted your cock,” you mewl out when he slowly moves his finger in and out of you, totally transfixed on the way you’re swallowing him whole. “Seriously, just g-get this over with.”

You grab the base of his cock, manicured fingers wrapping around the appendage, before you move it over your slit, head bumping your already-sensitive clit. That finally snaps him out of it, retreating his thumb from your snug walls with a pop!

Positioning him at your entrance, he finally moves his hips, pushing in slowly. The stretch is still overwhelming. Leaning down his teeth sink into the fabric of your bra before he pulls it down just enough to bunch under your tits. Your nipples pebble immediately after they get exposed to the cold air, which just makes him groan before wrapping his lips around one of them.

The dual sensation has you mewling out, hands finding purchase on his back, fingers skimming the base of his wings making them arch out, the red plumes the only thing you can see right now. He whimpers at the sensation, feathers bristling slightly before he folds them back in.

His cock throbs inside of you once he bottoms out, flushed head steadily dripping more pre. The feeling of the rubber is different, the layer between your walls and his flushed cock has you whining out. The little barbell also feels weird, not like last time.

“Stop clenching— fucking hell… like that,” his hand smacks your thigh, aa sharp sting running up your thigh and straight to your core, having the exact opposite reaction he wanted—walls clenching down on him further.

“Just move already,” you moan out when his tongue flicks over your nipple, still waiting for him to move. His hips start to move, pulling them back he thrusts forward again. A deep and brutal thrust that has you clawing at his back, leaving behind angry, red marks. The red that matches his wings.

Your hips move in tandem with his, skin slapping against skin, heavy balls hitting your ass while his mouth finally finds your other tit, peppering it with kisses and bites. “So good for me, love it when I fuck you, don’tcha?” he murmurs against your skin.

Your legs wrap around his waist before you flip the two of you around, his body hitting the couch with an ‘oomf’. Straddling him you grab him at the base before sinking down on his girth, weeping hole swallowing him greedily. “Hate you. Hate you so much.”

His hands come down to your hips, helping you move up and down his cock. His eyes are transfixed on where the two of you are connected, lips stretching around him. “Yeah, hate me? That why you’re bouncing on my cock right now?”

His thumb presses onto your clit while two of his feathers come down to play with your nipples—feather-soft brushes against your skin making you keen out into the air, not caring who could possibly walk by and hear the two of you.

“T-this doesn’t mean anything,” you moan out, ass slapping against his thick thighs with each fall of your hips. Your pace slowly dwindles down, hips not lifting as far up as they did before, which is a wrong move because Hawks tightens his hold onto your plush hips and starts moving you.

“C’mon now, birdie. Wanted to ride me so. ride. me.” he slams you down with each word, tip hitting your cervix every time he bottoms out. You throw your head back at the feeling, back arching to the point where your tits are basically smothering him. Not that he cares though, he just happily groans while licking off the sweat that’s beading down the valley of your breasts.

“You’re—shit—dirty,” is all you can get out while he’s bruising your walls, fingers digging into your flesh in a way that you know will leave behind marks the next day. Luckily your hero suit covers it, because otherwise people would definitely know what happened.

Your thighs are starting to strain, knot in your stomach coiling deeper and deeper until it finally snaps. Body trembling above his, walls constricting around him. “Shit— tryna milk me even when you know you can’t get filled?”

He holds your body against him while he plants his feet on the ground. Pummeling his hips into yours, he chases after his own orgasm. You’re whining out at the overstimulation, hips writhing above him trying to get away from the feeling, only for him to lock his arms around your waist, keeping you still for him.

With a groan he finally cums, rubber preventing you from feeling him fill you up. The only sounds filling the room is the two of you greedily gulping in some air, and his feathers twitching against his back—puffing up slightly with affection before they go down again.

That’s the way the two of you begin this… arrangement of sorts.

Instead of taunting about rankings, the two of you began doing… favors for each other. He ate you out after you shot up the rankings again, and you sucked him off when he was still the number two—above your ranking—the next year.

You can still remember the way he was teasing you about sounding hoarse during patrol. Your throat was constricting around him a mere ten minutes before you had to go out, so there was no time to even look for something to soothe your throat.

And then you had the times where he came over just to take his frustrations out on you, hips pummeling into your ass from behind, grunting about how overworked the two of you were. The Commission still on both your asses, giving you assignment after assignment.

Your ass was red and swollen by the time he was done, puffy cunt absolutely abused while he watched his cum drip out of you only for him to lick it out of there mere seconds later.

Sometimes he came inside of you, other times he pulled out just in time, painting your skin with ropes of white, rubber having been ditched after your third time together. You were whining about not being able to feel him, telling him that you were on the pill so he couldn’t get you pregnant anyway—thank you Commission for doing something good for once.

Which is leads you to today, you’re laid out on a bed. Not the small beds the two of you had in the safehouses, nor the couches backstage somewhere or the rough bricks scratching against your back whenever the two of you find yourselves outside again. No this is Hawks’ bed, massive, just to comfortably fit his wings onto.

He’s pounding into your poor, overstimulated pussy. His hips coming down to grind against you before he pulls back and slams back in. The headboard is hit hit hitting the wall behind you, luckily for the two of you he lives in the penthouse, so there will be no noise complaints.

“Fucking hate them,” he grunts while sweat is beading down his temple, wings spread out behind him in a brilliant, crimson arc. Your fingers are clawing at his biceps while he continues his rant. “No, Hawks, it isn’t enough. Nothing you ever do is enough. We’ll just keep on sending you on missions, because that’s why you’re here. To be a hero means to sacrifice,” he mocks one of the handlers.

It’s not often that he reaches out to you, much less when he actually calls you over. Hell, this has been the first time you were even in his apartment, and you had no time to actually admire the place before he had you pinned to the wall already.

Sinking to his knees he muttered out a, need this. need this pussy to suffocate me. before he all but yanked your shorts and panties down in one, swift movement. His lips immediately latched onto your sensitive nub, making your hand fly to his hair while your head thunked! onto the wall behind you.

“Fucking hell, what’s gotten into you?” you asked him through a moan. While he’s eaten you out before, he was never this desperate to get his hands—or in this case lips—on you. It was always filled with teasing and taunting remarks. But this time he just groaned into your mound like it was the answer to all of his questions. “Seriously, Hawks… what happened?”

You’re pulling on his hair trying to get him to at least acknowledge you, but all it did was make him whimper out into your slit while his wings shuddered behind him. Well guess you found out something new about him.

“Commission was on my ass,” he mumbles through licks, his tongue flitting over your clit while one of his hand is groping your ass like it was his personal stress-ball. “Fuck you taste so sweet.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hips starting to grind down onto his face while he plunged his tongue inside of you, wiggling the muscle around into your tight walls. “Want me t-to talk about it?” you breathed out, swinging one leg over his shoulder—careful not to pin his wing to his back—to give him more access to your slit, which he happily takes, pressing his mouth further into your pussy.

“Jus’ need you right now,” he grunted out, continuing to eat you out. It was messy, spit dribbling past the corners of his mouth while the lower part of his face was shiny with your arousal. “Pussy loves me, doesn’t she?”

You couldn’t answer that, too busy trying to focus on your upcoming orgasm to even think of responding to him talking to your pussy like it was alive instead of just an organ. Gripping his hair even tighter you began gyrating your hips down onto his face which he happily let you, groaning out while he angled his face so his nose would nudge your clit with each roll of your hips.

Once you came on his face—thighs trembling, tummy clenching, moans flowing free out of you—he dragged you to the bed where he took no time to slide into you. You’re still not used to the way he stretches you out, despite it having been years since you first began fucking him.

He’d filled you up once already while you’ve cum three times, weeping pussy sensitive to each roll of his hips, and you can feel your stomach starting to tighten once more.

“Haven’t I sacrificed enough already?” He’s still talking, still asking rhetorical questions that you could answer—that you would answer if he wasn’t pounding you into oblivion—but all you can do is moan out at him. “D-did everything for them.”

Nodding your head you run your hand through his hair, trying to soothe him slightly, but you just tighten your grip once he finds that spongy spot inside of you again, bullying it when he realises he’s found your g-spot once again.

“F-fuck, Hawks. Wait. Feels weird,” you’re trying to get him to slow down, to get that weird feeling building up in your lower stomach to go away, only for him to continue babbling about the Commission and how they ruined his life. If you weren’t so busy you’d give your two cents on it, but you can’t. Legs starting to tremble around his waist while your toes curl.

He presses his thumb to your clit, and that does it. Your orgasm crashes into you like a lighting strike. Clear liquid gushing out of you and onto Hawks’ abs, thighs, balls and bedsheets. Your hands tighten in the sheets beside you while you sob out his name. “Fuck, Keigo— Kei. Pleasepleaseplease. Love you— shit.”

That makes him still. Just completely still against you. You don’t notice, though, too busy riding out your orgasm to even see the way his eyes are wide open, mouth agape. The pleasure shooting through you has you crying, tears rolling down your cheeks and disappearing into the pillows below you.

“What did you just say?” His voice is so small, unlike his normal, cocky self that you finally open your eyes. Blinking a few times you note the way he’s hunched over you right now, a few feathers suspended in the air while his golden eyes look at you like you’re made of glass. He says your name—not birdie, not dove, not your hero name, just your actual name. The one you haven’t heard in years.

“Say it again,” he breathes out, almost begging you. “Please.”

Gulping you look at those golden eyes you’ve seen your entire life, the ones that always meant that you were safe. The ones you’ve hoped to see beside you every day, but got taken away from you when you were a mere seventeen years old.

“I love you,” you murmur, trying to gauge his reaction. The next second his mouth crashed onto yours, plump lips groaning out after he finally tasted you. It’s been ten years. Ten years since the two of you last kissed. You two hadn’t kissed even once after debuting, despite the two of you having been fuck-buddies for years.

It’s filled with warmth and lust, his tongue clashing against yours while you drink up all of his sounds. The wings on his back unfurl and furl back in, almost as if he has no control over what’s happening to them.

“Love you, love you, love you,” he mumbles out against your lips while slowly starting to trust back inside again. The overstimulation has you keening out, but you just wrap your legs further around his waist while pulling him back in. “Mine, all mine.”

His pace picks up, hips snapping against yours once more. One of his hands gropes your breast while the other squeezes your waist, pulling you down to meet every thrust.

Your body is completely pliant against his, bones feeling like jelly with the way he’s made you cum multiple times already. The last sunrays catch your eyes, and it has him gasping out. You look like an angel beneath him—his angel.

He spills inside you not soon after, a second load filling you up. And you coax him through it, hands running through his hair while his lips latch onto your throat.

You thought he’d be done now, but you can feel him twitch inside of you. “Are you still hard?” you whisper, incredulous.

Keigo merely smiles down at you before he pulls out of you, his thick seed immediately bubbling out of you. He gives you no time to even realise what’s going on, picking you up into his arms and setting you down in front of the big window that overlooks the city.

Your body tilts forward, tits pressing against the cool glass while you turn your head to the side to look at the man behind you. “What are you doing?”

“Gonna show everyone you’re mine,” he growls before nudging your knees apart and slips back inside. Your mouth falls open when he starts moving again, the cool glass a stark contrast to your overheating body.

The streets below are still busy, and if someone were to look up they would be able to see the number two absolutely railing the number three hero. Your nipples brush against the smooth surface, adding all the more pleasure to your core.

Inner thighs are slick with a mixture of your and his cum, and you can see him in the reflection of the glass. The crimson almost getting swallowed by the burnt-sienna of the sky outside, but his eyes are transfixed on you. He chuckles when he feels you clench down onto him, walls fluttering uselessly around him. “You like the thought of people seeing you like this?” he murmurs into your ear, breath warm against the shell.

Your hips move back against him, knees weak with the way he knocks you forward with each thrust. Wrapping his arm around you, he lifts you up, feet dangling uselessly above the ground. You gasp out at that—at him using your body like you were merely a doll he could just pick up whenever he wanted.

“Shit— Keigo,” you whine out his name, forehead thumping against the glass, eyes fluttering close when that piercing passes over your sweet-spot with each pass of his hips. Nails leaving angry indents into his forearm.

“I know, dove. I know,” he murmurs against your cheek, he pounds into you from behind like a man possessed. “Let go for me. Show me how much you want me.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth opening in a broken moan that sounds so unlike you. White-hot pleasure shoots through your core, whitening out your vision for what feels like an eternity.

Keigo is not far behind, hips snapping against your ass like a punctuation. “S-shit, trying to milk me for all I’m worth.”

He spills into you for the last time that night. Hips ceasing their ministrations completely, his sweaty chest pressed flush against your back. Letting your head loll back against his shoulder you look at him, tired eyes blinking over his form.

He’s flushed from his face down all the way to his chest. Sweat beads down his body and he’s panting against your neck. His hair is plastered to his forehead, eyes blown out wide.

Moving the two of you back to the bed, he carefully lays you down before walking away, only to return with a washcloth seconds later. He carefully opens your thighs for him and begins to clean you up. You trash slightly at the sensation. “I know, dovey. Will be over soon.”

He throws the washcloth somewhere to the ground, and it lands with a wet schlap! somewhere in the corner of his bedroom—something you’ll probably reprimand him for when you have more energy, but right now you couldn’t care less.

Shuffling into the bed, he pulls you to his chest. One of his wings wraps itself around you—just like old times. It takes you right back to that too-small bed where the two of you would talk into the late hours of the night.

Feathers are twitching against your skin as if trying to kiss your entire body. It makes you relax, body sinking more into his chest while he traces small shapes in your skin.

“That was… a lot,” you mumble out, not quite sure if you should even address it, but you can’t stay silent any longer. The way he said your name, told you he loved you, gave you your old nickname back. It was, quite frankly, a lot. And even if that all didn’t happen, he also made you squirt for the first time. The memory has you flushing bright red.

“Mhmm, nothing I said was untrue, though,” he mumbles out into your hair, pressing his lips feather-soft against the crown of your head. It has you closing your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.

“Why did you even leave in the first place, Kei?” It’s been bothering you ever since he walked out of that room. The way he was so fidgety, no longer wanting anything to do with you when the two of you only had a few more months before the debut. A few more months and the two of you could’ve just stopped sneaking around.

You can feel him lean back a little, head angled down before his fingers find you chin and nudges your head up so he can look at you. “What are you talking about, dove? You’re the one who told me that we couldn’t be together.”

Furrowing your brows you look at the golden eyes you’ve known your whole life. Shifting slightly—and hissing when you accidentally rub yourself against his thigh—you sit up a little, just enough to look at him.

“No, no. You came into my room telling me it couldn’t work any longer,” you start, eyes darting around his face, confusion settling over you. You can still remember that night vividly, and it was him who broke it off with you. “Said you didn’t have feelings for me and then just… walked out.”

“Now why would I do that when I’ve been in love with you for all of my life?” He asks you, bushy brows furrowed together. There’s a slight crease between them, and you want to rub it away, but you’re still racking your brain.

He continues, voice lower now, more sad, “I came back from that horribly long assignment and you were waiting for me on my bed. At first you were just… quiet. Then you told me that it was a mistake and that it was just the proximity that had made you kiss me.”

You chuckle at that, hollow and sad all at once. “Just the proximity? Keigo I’ve liked you ever since I realised what it meant to have a crush on someone.”

He just purses his lips at that, not moving an inch. The feathers that are still on your back twitch a few times, a shudder going through them that he doesn’t bother to stop.

“Then why would you—” he trails off, golden eyes almost bulging out of his skull with realisation. “The Commission.”

“Wait, what?” You’re confused now. What does the Commission have to do with any of this? It was just you two that knew about everything, the Commission has never even known that you and Keigo even knew each other outside of any assignments.

“Think about it, dove. You’re saying it was me who broke it of, I’m saying it was you—”

“I never broke up with you. God I was so heartbroken.”

“—and neither of us is saying we did that. Hell, we’re both saying we wanted to be together. So what else could it have been? You know how the Commission is, they could get their hands on any quirk user, and I would bet there’s someone who could shapeshift, or something like that.”

You’re still looking at him, mind racing now. You honestly can’t believe neither of you thought about this earlier, but then again the two of you didn’t really talk. Just played stupid games to be close to each other.

“The feather,” you finally breathe out, fingers ghosting over your ribs where he always put the small feather. The one you’ve been missing on your skin for years. “It didn’t float when I threw it back at you. It just… fell to the floor. And ‘you’ picked it up. Picked it up.”

How could you have missed it—that small detail that would tell you something was wrong. Sure he was acting strange, not letting you touch him and just being twitchy in general, but his feathers were the dead giveaway. They never could quite hide everything he wanted to, despite having been trained for years.

How did it never occur to you that he had telepathic feathers and he picked it off the floor rather than just bringing it toward himself.

“You gave that feather back,” he murmurs, his own thumb coming to your ribs. Then a small, sad chuckle falls from his lips. “Even after all the training we’ve had, we still got outsmarted by the suits. Purely because we couldn’t see past our emotions.”

Tears spring to your eyes, because it’s true, isn’t it? You let the emotions get the better of you, throwing out the small feather that could have solved everything. What would’ve happened if you never threw it back at ‘him’ in that fit of anger? Would the two of you still have been best friends? More than best friends? Or would he not have believed you?

“How did they even find out about it?” you whisper. His thumb comes up and wipes away some of the tears that are gathering on your waterline, the action so soft compared to how he used your body mere minutes ago. “We’ve never gotten caught in twelve years.”

“Must’ve been the supply closet,” he answers, pulling you back to lay on his chest. “Maybe they realised that us walking back took longer than needed.”

And how stupid could the two of you have been? Of course they would know how long it takes for the two of you to walk back—especially considering Keigo had left before you and went out of the supply closet after you.

That’s the exact thing the two of you were trained on noticing, patterns and behaviours. Yet it didn’t occur in your minds that they would be using it as well. Didn’t think about much but him at that moment, to be completely honest.

“Can’t believe secret kisses in a supply closet is what has gotten us caught,” you groan out into his chest, the words slightly muffled. And he laughs at that, a small breath through his nose that rattles his chest. “At least you were my first everything.”

“Wait what?” He looks down at you, looks at the way you’re burrowing yourself further into his chest, trying to find his warmth. His wing instinctively tightens around you, feathers whispering against your skin from where they’re puffing up slightly. “You mean to tell me that time on the rooftop was your first time, too?”

You hum slightly, a small, drowsy thing that comes deep from your throat. His words still have to catch up with your brain, but when they finally register your head snaps up. “What do you mean, too?”

“I never fucked anyone beside you,” he says, not even a tremble can be found in his voice. Looking at him for a little while longer, you let a small chuckle escape your lips. He never fucked anyone else?

“Then why do you have a piercing there?” Your leg shifts slightly over him, making him groan out, wing tightening a fraction. He grabs your leg with one hand, halting your movement, because he can already feel blood rush south again—way too sensitive from the multiple rounds the two of you had earlier.

“Got it so I could jerk off faster—why are you laughing, you out of all people should know that we don’t get any time to get any release. Especially with the way the Commission keeps throwing more and more missions at us.”

“It’s just… I thought you had fucked half the population here in Fukuoka City, and here you are telling me you were a virgin and just got a dick piercing to make yourself more sensitive?”

It’s ridiculous, honestly. And everything makes sense—the way he would never respond to your taunts about other girls, just like you wouldn’t respond to any of his taunts since you wouldn’t just tell him he was the one to take your virginity.

“Guess we have a lot of catching up to do, love.” There it is again, that nickname. Not a slip of the tongue as you thought it was ten years ago. He really did call you ‘love’ back then.

Your eyes close against your will, body finally going boneless against him. “Mhmm, but first we should go to sleep.”

“I don’t care what we do as long as I have you beside me,” he murmurs out against your skin, lips brushing your temple—feather-light, almost like it was never there to begin with.

You don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow. All you know is that you got the boy you loved back and that this time nothing will come between the two of you.

©CursedKisss do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or feed my works into AI. I will send Shigaraki after you if you do.

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[whirlybirbs]

portgas d. ace, your best friend.

portgas d. ace, who has always been handsy.

not that you’re complaining — how could you? especially since something has changed in recent months. something has become sticky, mushy, needy.

feelings. there are new feelings, but you both ignore the aforementioned sticky, mushy, needy feelings because you’re best friends, and best friends don’t have sticky, mushy, needy feelings for one another.

portgas d. ace is always hanging off you. his arm, freckled and strong, is always slung around your shoulders. he leans and slouches, pressing the full length of his body against your side whenever he can. he’s always there, in your orbit, tangling himself up in your space.

the crew knows that you, a vice-lieutenant shipwright, and the division commander are two peas in a pod; inseparable, indivisible, and integral. where his voice carries, your laughter is soon to follow. ace burns bright, like a star streaking across the sky, and you’re the moon he dances for. you call his name from high up on the mast, and he always calls yours back.

no one pities the fool portgas d. ace makes himself for the sake of your smile. no one pretends there isn’t something else there, either. marco thinks it’s gonna kill him — ace, with his longing looks, and you with your lingering smiles. always when the other isn’t looking, but for fuck’s sake, marco is looking. marco sees it. marco can’t unsee it.

feelings! sticky, mushy, needy feelings!

portgas d. ace, whose threshold for appropriate touching is quickly diminishing despite the whole best friend title. his newest, baddest habit is a sturdy kiss to your temple in passing — always paired with a murmured hey you. he’s recently started to tangle his fingers in yours during quiet moments up on deck. always during the setting sun, always when you’re off shift, and he’s avoiding whatever new responsibility pops throws him.

portgas d. ace, who starts sleeping in your bed — he blames the barracks. they’re too crowded. marco, his bunkmate, snores. you’re lucky, he says, you’ve got a tiny little cabin, with a tiny little bed, and a tiny little water room. a perk of being one of the few female crewmembers. the perk is stolen by ace, who starfishes out and runs hot. you start sleeping with less and less clothing, and ace chases the feeling of your skin against his in his sleep.

there’s a line. always. you’re best friends. best friends who touch and roughhouse and laugh. best friends who fall asleep in one another’s arms, best friends who knock foreheads together when they hug, best friends who daydream about kissing one another—

portgas d. ace is your best friend. best friends don’t kiss.

until they do.

→ ┊    next.

[whirlybirbs]

← ┊    previous.

portgas d. ace, your best friend.

portgas d. ace can’t stop staring at you.

sure, fine, he’s in his cups. sure, fine, so is the rest of the division. crammed shoulder to shoulder in this port’s small tavern — the crow’s nest — he’s fighting for his damn life. you and the other shipwrights have parked yourselves at a table in the back. old man weller is reliving a tall tale about a whale and a boy, but ace knows you’re not listenin’.

he knows, ‘cause you’re lookin’ at him.

and he’s lookin’ at you.

portgas d. ace smiles like he’s in love. your smile breaks over the crest of your cup, and ace’s world spins a little, and he almost topples off his barstool.

he disappears into the crowd of the crew, only to appear at your side. he slides into the booth, slick and smooth. his thigh presses to yours and his arm curls around your shoulder and his breath is soft against your cheek.

“is this th’ whale story?” he whispers into your ear, a touch slurred and a touch deep, “again?”

he doesn’t pull back when you turn your cheek, your nose to his as you nod and whisper back: “he’s embellishing.”

this close, you can count each and every one of portgas d. ace’s freckles. this close, you can see the faint reminder of a sunburn. this close, you can admire the deep, deep brown of his eyes. you don’t have to be this close to know he’s beautiful — but it doesn’t hurt.

sure, fine, you’re in your cups. sure, fine, so are the other shipwrights — and they are none the wiser to whatever tension is crawling between you and the second division command in your little corner. between the music and the laughter and the chatter and the tall tales, this moment is sacred and secret.

ace’s chuckle is delayed and a little rough. he’s first to pull away — only enough to sneak his ale to his lips and swig. you turn your cheek, look at weller, and listen cheek to cheek with ace.

“how would you know?” he asks in an incredulous whisper, nose dragging across your temple. he’s a beat from laughing, and you smack his thigh. it’s light. you keep your hand there. the arm around your shoulder twitches, and you let him rough-house. he shakes you gently. he pulls you into his chest and tucks you under his chin.

you don’t pull away.

“i’ve heard it a thousand times,” you whisper back, lifting your chin to look up at him with a rum-kissed smile, “same as you.”

something flickers across his face, then. something you see. something that stays, and you blink — your eyes dart from his gaze to his mouth. ace’s fingers still where they draw a lazy circle across the skin of your arm. he can’t look away from you, not when you’re curled up in his arms and smiling. you can’t look away, not when he looks at you like that — like you are more than just best friends.

portgas d. ace is your best friend. best friends don’t kiss.

there’s a line. a boundary. an invisible promise that the way you two touch each other is nothing more than friendship. he tries to remember the boundary, he tries to remember how things where before — before things changed, before he knew he was in love with his best friend. ace smiles, because he can’t remember it.

his other hand engages in its newest habit — he pushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

you’re lookin’ at him.

and he’s lookin’ at you.

“…what are we doing?” he murmurs. his voice is so low and gentle, it feels like he’s dragged his blunt nails up your spine with reverence.

“i dunno, what are we doing?” you breathe. you’re drunk enough that you stumble over your words; your face is close to his again. he’s craned his neck down, his hat hiding you both from the tavern. from his division, from your shipwrights.

“i know what i want to be doing,” he mumbles, so close his mouth brushes yours. his eyes stare, intensely devoted to the moment.

you don’t pull away. your fingers tense against his thigh, and ace wets his lips. you ask, already knowing the answer:

"and what's that?"

so, portgas d. ace kisses his best friend.

[lonelyfooryouonly]

did you just grunt? zuko x pregnant!reader

.✦ ݁˖ pregnant!fem!reader, established relationship, other than that just fluff;

zuko had picked you up a thousand times before.

over his shoulder. in his arms. into his lap during slow, lazy afternoons when you were both half-asleep, mumbling nonsense, but still refusing to let go of each other's warmth.

but this time was different.

this time, you were carrying his child.

your child.

"zuko, seriously," you laughed as he still held onto you anyway, stubborn as ever. "i can walk."

"i know you can walk," he muttered, his large hands adjusting carefully around your waist and back, brushing against your robes as if he was recalculating every possible way to hold you safely. "i just—"

he lifted you anyway.

—and immediately let out a strained little grunt.

then the room went completely silent.

the birds outside stopped chirping.

the wind didn't seem to blow anymore.

you blinked slowly.

zuko blinked right back.

for a moment, neither of you said anything.

then his expression dropped.

it was subtle at first — just a flicker of realization — but it quickly turned into full-blown horror, like he had just witnessed the collapse of his entire legacy before his eyes.

"...did you just grunt?" you ask finally, breaking the silence. your tone is calm, but your face gives nothing away.

"no...?" he replies immediately, too fast.

"you absolutely did," you say at once, not letting him escape it.

"i didn't," he snaps, a little sharper now, shifting his grip slightly like he's trying to prove a point. "i adjusted my stance."

you keep staring at him.

he refuses to meet your eyes.

your hands slowly rise, gently cradling his face so he has no choice but to look at you. his jaw is tense, his ears faintly red, his entire composure hanging by a thread.

despite his obvious distress, you smile softly.

"are you calling me heavy?"

his shoulders drop a little.

he exhales, trying to recover.

okay. maybe he was overreacting.

it was just a grunt, you smiled. maybe it wasn't that big of a deal. maybe you had nothing to be upset about.

yeah.

"no, love," he says, forcing a small smile.

then your fingers press into his cheeks, squishing them together as you study him very seriously.

"then put me down and pick me up again," you say, tone flat, deadpan. "without the grunt."

his eyes widen slightly.

he fakes a cough, trying to hide the sound of his fast heartbeating, as if you can hear it.

"yes, love," he answers, voice already wavering as he quickly clears his throat like that might fix everything.

[karmamira]

"I WILL DESTROY THAT TWINK"

Or

Would they let you top? Headcanons

Character(s): (in this order –>) Flins, Lohen, Durin, Layla Albedo, Kazuha, Wanderer, Scaramouche, Kabukimono, Chiori, Heizou, Illuga, Freminet, Shenhe, Mavuika.

Warning(s): Segguestive, Praise, Orgasm Denial, Lohen's existence in itself is a warning, Dacryphilia, That's all I hope.

"She puts lingerie on you and uses the fabric shears to pin you to the bed so you can't escape her." <– I am here to say that I shamelessly stole that line word by word from my dear mootie @yurunivo

Flins:

Yes.

Would love to see you try.

I just know he has that "gentlemanly" shit smile on his face the ENTIRE time.

He is ultimately unaffected (Because let's be fair. He is a FREAKING lantern fire thing dawg what do you expect)

Thinks it's so so cute that you are trying<3

Would take such great care of you after, though. Isn't he just so thoughtful<3 (Lil shit)

Despite all the playfull teasing he, is very gentle when it's his turn to take care of you<3

Turns out he can take things seriously when needed— your pleasure is always priority to him.

Can and will "offhandedly" comment on your pathetic performance after everything is said and done (Fucker)

He gets on your nerves so freaking much ughh.

Enjoys your reactions a bit too much. Freaking ragebaiter.

He's such an annoying tease I wanna put his neck on a leash and bend him over—

Lohen:

HECK YEAH

Let's be fr rn. This masochistic psychicopath twink is into being put in his place.

He desperately wants to be stepped on.

Metaphorically and physically.

Be rough. Be mean. Be merciless. Give him colorful bruises. He adores it when you are unforgiving.

Would look at you with literally hearts in those dead dead eyes of his if you cause painful injuries<33

They don't have to be necessarily dangerous. Just something that gets his blood hot and running<3 (But then again, as long as he got a good fight out of it, he won't mind bleeding to his death by your hands<3 or taking his last breath in your arms knowing that you were the one to steal it from him—).

Sorry this is so unromantic and way too freaky BUT THIS MAN CANNOT BE NORMAL ABOUT IT.

You cannot convince me that he doesn't get off to getting beaten to a pulp by his partner.

This twink is getting destroyed, alright.

Literally.

Durin:

YES

Just look me in the eye and tell me he is not a switch.

You can't. Because he is one.

He gets SO subby whenever he bottoms for whatever reason though... always becoming such a drooling sobbing mess... eager to please like the obedient little thing he is.

It's just that you make him feel so so good he just can't help himself but be messy with it :(

He is usually more of the growly type, but take advantage of his sensitive parts and you'll get him to make the sweetest whines for you<33

Just make sure that he feels loved and cared for, and you'll be rewarded with unshakable his eternal devotion<3

Sorry he is just so cutehzgvjhdshjdg my sweet baby I want all the good things for him<3

Layla:

PLSPLSPLS

Do you really think she even has the energy to top?

No. The right answer is no.

I think she's generally very quiet, but she makes up for it by how easily flustered she is<3

Can barely handle much in her natural habitat (bottoming), so please don't try to make her top :(

She is so overwhelmed and too flustered by everything that is happening.

Will still do her best despite everything, because she is just that sweet<3

Until she realizes that she may have bitten more than she can chew.

Starts begging you to please please please switch over she really can't do this.

She is just so mhmdhlklf<3 I think she deserves a reward for being so good to you<33

I love her sm omg is this too obvious.

Albedo:

Yes.

Agrees way too fast when you ask, actually.

Not necessarily because he is a bottom but I think he loves expirementing— Also kinda saw it coming. It just so happens that you asked earlier than he anticipated you would.

I like to believe that the star mark on his neck is sensitive, so show it some love, would you<3

Not gonna lie, I think he'll be so into it.

Like he'll realize how much more reactive he is when you are topping and start asking you to top more often (For science!)

Prolly asks you to write your observations down for him to check on later (💀)

Come on he obviously can't do it himself with the state you leave him in (HECK YEAH DESTROY THAT TWINK—)

Anyways it is time to bring out the smut writer in you.

Sorry if this is ooc he's such a pretty princess in my head I want to bbg him so bad (😖)

— but I also wanna ruin him and that smart mouth of his untill he can't spew any scientific nonsense at me anymore<3

Kazuha:

No.

Just hear me out on this one.

The service dom in him cannot, in any way, let the love of his life do all the work when he is right there.

Unlike a lot of people in this list, however, he is just human, so you can always fight him for that position...

Gets caught so off guard when you manage to flip him down and start toying with him.

(Thinks it's kinda hot—)

Find that sensitive spot and suddenly, his words are not as flowery nor as eloquent anymore<3

Just make sure it stays that way for as long as possible, would you<3

Especially since he will always be on guard from now on, you'll have to be more clever with your tactics if you want him writhing under you<3

Wanderer:

Yes (HEAR ME OUT I HAVE CONVINCING ARGUMENTS TRUST)

Here's the thing. Sex for Wanderer is unnecessary; he doesn't need it and doesn't crave it. However, he will help his partner out if they want it.

I think it is a very intimate affair to him. As far as he understands it; it is a process of stripping himself bare of everything he ever used to hide in and serving what remains of his wretched soul to you on a silver platter for you to judge and see.

And he can't just do that with anyone now, can he?

It's kind of an all-in deal to him. If you are going to do this, then he won't do it unless he feels safe enough around you to trust you with EVERYTHING.

Would genuinely cry if you treat his body with care, ignoring all his encouragement to go all out and his "I can handle it" talk in favor of treating him like the precious thing he thinks he's not.

He is shaking the entire time, feeling so vulnerable and so so loved.

I love him so much sorry if the special boy treatment is showing.

Scaramouche:

Absolutely NOT.

He can take care of you just fine— in fact, I think he is so much more gentler with his beloved than one would assume him to be.

He's just... not ready to be as vulnerable yet. He wants to, he really does, but the thought of actually doing that makes his synthetic skin crawl.

He's also seen firsthand how fragile humans can be, and he's way too paranoid to let you do any physically exerting tasks on his watch. Especially if you were a non-combatant.

I think your only chance at catching him at his most vulnerable would be after an agonizingly long expedition in the Abyss. Where time flows much faster and days turn into weeks and weeks into months.

He's ways extremely clingy (more than he already is, anyways) after such ventures and weirdly pliant to all sorts of requests that he would've otherwise instantly dismissed.

Fights it at first. Then, let's it happen. You just need to use the right words (and actions)

And suddenly he just looks so soft and so gentle and so so unlike himself ughh.

You could almost see the Kabukimono in him, if not for the fact that he keeps hiding his face

Probably cries. Definitely cries. Soft Scara the things I'll do for you—

God he makes me sick (/affec)

Do not even DARE mentioning it to him later, though. Whatever happens in those moments STAYS in those moments.

Please for his sake just... Don't.

(He's growing on me and I HATE IT)

Kabukimono:

YES

VERY eager to please. Can take whatever position you want him to!

Just... make sure to show how him how first.

Extremely vocal; moaning, begging, gasping. Will cling to you desperately while doing it all.

Doesn't know how much it affects you, but archon knows it does and it affects you bad.

No wonder he always ends up being such a pretty mess after<3

Definitely insists on returning the favor at some point. He is such a sweetheart<3

A fast learner, would use all the techniques you used on him before and carefully watch how much you are affected by them.

Takes your noises as approval. Whenever he is being loud it means he likes it. Surely it is the same for you, right<3

Despite that, he is still a bit unsure sometimes

He is being such a sweet thing to you. Please assure him that he is doing good :(

Just the fact that he can see you getting physically affected by him is enough, really! But a bit of praise can go a long way with him<3

Just think of it as motivation! The same way his vocal nature encourages you to ruin him<3

Chiori:

No.

That's her position the fuck (🤨) She ain't bottoming to nobody.

Also she knows damn well you ain't lasting (💀)

I think she is very gentle, but ask for a chance to be the top and she'll give you the bIGGEST side eye.

If you try to undermine her during the act she can and WILL immediately destroy any attempt at that.

She is so sassy, brat taming is in her nature.

Puts lingerie on you and uses the fabric shears to pin you to the bed so you can't escape her.

Is very patient when it comes to her partner, and has no qualms about teasing you all day<3

Won't let you get that relief until you are begging and sobbing pretty for her<33

Can always be a tad bit kinder to you, though. Just be good and listen to her well next time. You can do that, right<3

Heizou:

Yes. But omg he will he give you hELL.

Lays on his back, his arms behind his head as a pillow and the most arrogant looking uwu face you can imagine.

Smug fuck (I will peg that twink)

Wind is strong. ANYWAYS.

Loud on purpose at first. Then ACTUALLY loud when you start learning more about his dos and don'ts.

If you are the type to give commands then be assured that he will not be following any<3

Even when completely ruined he still finds the energy to be such a brat.

Nothing that cannot be fixed by being a bit rougher though<3

Put him on a leash. Maybe add a pretty rope too. And see how fast his confident facade drops when he is so desperate for that sweet release :(

He is such a whore (/affec) I love him

Illuga:

No.

Another twink who refuses to let his partner do any of the heavy lifting.

This one, however, is much more easier to fluster than the other.

A hot breath behind his reddening ear, a teasing finger under his sleeveless turtleneck, and the once dependable captain is no longer capable of the most basic functions anymore<3

Bonus points if you put a possesive hand on that small waist of his as you guide him somewhere more... private.

It's for a super secret important thing, you swear! (He knows damn well that you are lying)

It's almost pathetic, really. The way he is so determined to pretend have any sort of control yet gives in the moment you take the lead.

Feels so guilty that he is "making" you pleasure him. But he also can't get himself to tell you to stop because you are just so good at what you do he loses all words<3

Becomes so clingy and emotional during times like these. Please give him the praise he deserves :(

Freminet:

I think we all already know the answer to this one (💀)

He is the bottomest bottom to ever bottom.

This is like one of three things the genshin fandom universally agrees on.

That twink is already getting destroyed.

I genuinely think he'll cry if you try to make him top you.

Combust on the spot, even.

He'll still try, of course, but the poor thing's hands would be shaking so hard he can barely unbutton your shirt or unbuckle your bottoms.

Stutters out multiple sorrys for each time his fingers slip as he fumbles with your clothes.

He's just so hard but he's also too freaking flustered to do anything about it (my shayla :( )

Will look at you with the saddest, most guilty and teary-eyed expression when he realizes that he has been unconciously humping your thigh the entire time

(He's so pathetic I love him)

Please stop bullying him, he really can't take it anymore :(

Shenhe:

Yes.

Let's be for real; you already top her most of the time.

Something something the red rope is there to keep her in check something something sexual intimacy is a very emotional affair that may or may not trigger her.

Although she is faring better now, Shenhe still fears having any sort of power over you, so she would rather just let you have any advantage she can give.

Not that it would matter much if she actually went on a rampage. But it's the thought that counts<3

I think she's a breather. No loud moans, no grunts or growling. Just soft, quiet breaths.

Would not mind if you are loud, though. The entire point from this is that everyone is at their most vulnerable, right?

If you ever made her top you then she'll be so sweet and attentive<3

Quietly asking for consent before touching anything and constantly checking if you are comfortable.

She is just trying her best, and god is she good.

Mavuika:

Yes.

Thinks you can't handle her (Smug Fuck x2)

You can't, but still—

Is very chill in general, but oh archons can she be such a tease when she wants to be.

Would go out of her way to hold her own reactions in. She just wants you to go all out on her<3

.. and maybe tire yourself out to the point you cannot continue anymore.

Can and will taunt you. Again, she is just encouraging you to reach your limits<3

Won't do it for much though because she knows when you are too exhausted and it's her duty now to take good care of you too<3

Can be very gentle when she wants to be.

You were doing your best just now. It's her turn to return the favor now<3

As always, this is written just for fun. Feel free to pile up your own thoughts on it :>

@scaraobsession <3

[pupuslette]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ ۫ ໒. o' my! or where you prank your bf saying you have tinder ! warnings: a bit of swearing 😋 featuring:: alhaitham, childe, heizou, kinich, lohen, lyney, scaramouche/wanderer.

pi note: me when i'm bored and don't wanna update yet my smaus hehehehehehhh love yall PLES LEAVE A BAD REVIEW ON GENSHIN'S PLEASEEEEE i cannot survive next update w 50 pulls

©pupuslette, 2026. All rights reserved, please refrain from using my work without my permission and as well avoid involving anything of my belonging to AI or similars. Genshin Impact characters are not of my belonging

[arixella]

ENOUGH with the sokka angst I have had ENOUGH OF THIS 🫩 What is wrong with you people I genuinely want to enjoy my day and you have me bawling my eyes out bruv

Jejenehhehsh imagine sokka with a confident girlfriend/wife (even better if shes physically strong too) hehehhehehe I’m kicking my feet 👅 At first I think he’d be a little grumpy about it, but then he’d be totally into it. He’d be like “yeah that my girl right there, suckers” 😼 Extra points if she helps him out in his workshop. But that (by all means) does NOT mean that he’d be less (over)protective of her.

I don’t have a specific scenario for this, preferably something funny/fluffy, I’m giving you creative freedom other than that (you don’t have to respond to this if you don’t feel like writing about ts 😓 also sorry if this doesn’t make any sense I wrote it half asleep)

Completely Gone for You

╰┈➤ pairing: Sokka x female! reader

a/n: i love this requestt🤪

summary: Sokka prides himself on being the confident one in every situation, but his endlessly affectionate and self-assured partner has a talent for leaving him completely flustered while reminding him just how deeply in love he is.

wc: 1.6k

contains: established relationship, gender-neutral reader, romantic fluff, playful teasing, confident reader, flustered Sokka, protective Sokka, domestic comfort, wholesome romance, light humor, relationship dynamics

Sokka was used to being the confident one.

The talker.

The flirt.

The guy with a joke for everything. So when he first started dating you and realized you had absolutely no problem making him flustered in return? He struggled badly.

“You know,” you said casually one afternoon while leaning over his shoulder in the workshop, “you look really attractive when you’re focused.”

Sokka immediately hit his head on the shelf above him. “OW- ”

You burst out laughing. He turned toward you with betrayal written all over his face while rubbing the top of his head dramatically. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m working!”

“You were tightening a screw.”

“I was engineering.”

You grinned shamelessly. “And looking good doing it.”

Sokka stared at you for a second. Then pointed accusingly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Maybe.”

At first, he genuinely didn’t know how to handle you. You complimented him constantly. Touched him first without hesitation. Dragged him into kisses whenever you wanted. And worst of all-

You acted completely confident about it too. Meanwhile Sokka would short-circuit every single time. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you informed him one evening. “I’m not flustered.”

“You walked into a chair.”

But over time?

Something shifted. Because eventually Sokka stopped being embarrassed about how obsessed he was with you.

And started leaning into it completely.

---

“Yeah,” Sokka said proudly one day while watching you earthbend a massive boulder out of the road during a mission, “that’s my girl.”

You looked over immediately, laughing softly at the ridiculous amount of pride in his voice. Toph groaned nearby. “Oh spirits, he’s doing it again.”

Katara smiled knowingly. “He literally can’t help himself.”

Sokka ignored them completely, to busy staring at you with heart eyes. Honestly?

It got worse after you started helping in his workshop regularly. Because suddenly not only were you pretty and confident and affectionate You also willingly listened to him ramble about inventions for hours.

Which, according to Sokka, basically made you perfect.

“You handed me the wrong wrench.”

You looked up from where you sat cross-legged on the floor sorting metal pieces. “No I didn’t.”

Sokka stared at the tool in his hand.

Then blinked.

“…Okay no, this is right.”

You smirked immediately. “Thought so.”

“You’re smug today.”

“You love it.”

You were right. Sokka shook his head while trying to hide a smile before going back to work. The workshop was warm and cluttered like always, sunlight spilling through the windows while half-finished inventions covered nearly every available surface.

You’d started spending most afternoons here with him.

Sometimes helping.

Sometimes just keeping him company.

Sokka loved all of it. Loved the sound of your voice filling the room, the way you’d casually wander over and fix his posture when he hunched too long over blueprints.

Loved how naturally you fit into his space.

Even if...

“You should not be standing that close to that.”

You looked up slowly. “Sokka.”

“That metal is sharp.”

“I’m an earthbender, not a helpless woodland creature.”

“I know that.”

“Then relax.”

He absolutely did not relax. Because no matter how confident or capable you were, Sokka was still Sokka. Meaning overprotective instincts kicked in constantly, especially around his inventions.

“Careful.”

“Sokka.”

“That thing’s unstable.”

“You say that about everything in here.”

“Because everything in here is unstable.”

Fair point. You laughed quietly as he immediately walked over anyway, hands settling automatically on your waist before moving you slightly away from the workbench. “There,” he said proudly.

You blinked. “You moved me like two inches.”

“Safer already.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re precious to me.”

The words came out so casually that your chest tightened before you could stop it. Sokka noticed immediately. His grin softened into something warmer. “There it is,” he murmured.

“What?”

“That look.”

You crossed your arms suspiciously. “What look?”

“The one where you remember I’m charming.”

You snorted softly. “Debatable.”

But you stepped closer anyway. Sokka’s hands immediately returned to your waist like they belonged there. “You know,” you said softly, “I think you secretly like that I’m confident.”

“Secretly?” he repeated dramatically. “I openly like it.”

You laughed.

“No seriously,” he continued, tugging you gently closer between his arms. “At first it scared me a little.”

“Scared you?”

“You came into my life acting like you owned the place.”

“I do own the place.”

“My workshop?”

“Your heart.”

Sokka froze completely. You burst out laughing immediately while his face turned red. “You did that on purpose!”

“Oh absolutely.”

“You’re evil.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Still blushing, Sokka groaned dramatically before burying his face briefly against your shoulder. And despite his complaining-

You felt him smiling. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.

“Mhm.”

“But also…” he lifted his head again, expression softer now, “kinda amazing.”

Your teasing expression melted instantly. Sokka looked at you for another second before kissing you gently. Warm hands still firm at your waist. Slow enough that you smiled against his mouth halfway through. “You know what I like best though?” he murmured softly after pulling back slightly.

“What?”

“That you help me with this stuff.”

You glanced around the workshop. “Your dangerous scrap pile?”

“My genius inventions.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Sokka grinned. “Most people get bored when I talk about engineering.”

“I like listening to you.”

His entire expression softened at that. Like those four words genuinely mattered to him.

They did. Because Sokka always worried deep down that people didn’t take him seriously enough. But with you, he never felt small.

You made him feel brilliant.

“You’re staring again,” you teased quietly. “You’re pretty,” he replied instantly.

“You say that every day.”

“I think it every second.”

Your face warmed immediately. Sokka grinned triumphantly again before suddenly pulling you tighter against him. “What now?” you laughed.

“You’re standing too close to the tools again.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“I’m serious.”

“Sokka, I can literally throw rocks with my mind.”

“And I can still worry about you.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Protective.”

“Very.”

“Clingy.”

“Also true.”

You smiled softly.

And Sokka kissed you again like he couldn’t help himself.

Because truley?

He probably couldn’t.

♡♡♡

© 2026 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[meebochii]

Dan Heng ver.

[probablyboredx]

baby fever (zuko x fem!reader x sokka)

summary; zuko and sokka have baby fever and they do everything but tell you

a/n; i knew ppl were fans of zukka but i didnt expect ppl to love the first poly fic as much as they did

zuko masterlist sokka masterlist

The problem started with Kiyi. Or more specifically, the fact that Kiyi was seven years old, endlessly energetic, and absolutely adored you.

"Again!"

"Kiyi, that's the fifth time."

"Again!"

You laughed as the little girl launched herself at you from the palace steps.

Somehow you caught her. "You're getting heavier."

Kiyi gasped dramatically. "I'm telling Zuzu."

"Please don't."

Across the courtyard, Zuko watched the entire exchange and felt something strange happen in his chest. You spun Kiyi around, and you both laugh. And suddenly Zuko couldn't stop thinking about what you'd look like holding a child that was actually yours.

His or Sokkas child.

The thought hit him so hard he nearly walked directly into a pillar.

"Fire Lord?"

Zuko blinked. "What?"

The servant looked concerned. "You just walked into a wall."

Later that night, Zuko found himself sitting beside Sokka on the palace balcony. You were already fast asleep.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes enjoying the silence.

"I think I want kids." The words escaped before Zuko could stop them.

Sokka froze. "...Oh."

"Yeah." Zuko looked over. 

Sokka was staring at the stars. "I think about it too."

The confession surprised both of them. Mostly because neither expected the other to admit it.  Sokka rubbed the back of his neck. "It's weird."

"What is?"

He smiled slightly. "I'll see her doing something."

"Like what?"

"Anything." He laughed. "Playing with kids, making someone smile, taking care of people,” his expression softened, "and suddenly I start imagining stuff."

Zuko understood immediately because he'd been doing exactly the same thing.

"...We're both idiots."

"Definitely."

The hints started shortly after their conversation. Neither intended for it to happen.

"Oh look."

Sokka pointed dramatically, you looked in the direction.

"A baby."

You blinked. "Congratulations on having eyes?"

The young couple walking through the market looked confused at Sokkas pointing.

Sokka looked disappointed. "That's all you have to say?"

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know."

You squinted suspiciously at him "Are you okay?"

"...Maybe."

Zuko was somehow worse. You discovered this when Kiyi dragged you both into the palace gardens one afternoon.

"Look!"

You looked down. A tiny turtleduck waddled through the grass. "Oh."

Your face immediately softened "Oh, you're adorable."

You crouched down to the small turtleduck, and pick it up carefully carrying it to the pond.

From where he stood with his youngest sister, Zuko stared. Kiyi followed his gaze, then looked back at Zuko. "Oh."

Zuko immediately knew he was in danger. "Kiyi."

"Ohhhhh."

"Kiyi."

"You like seeing her with babies."

"I do not."

"You totally do."

"I absolutely do not."

The little girl gasped.

"You want babies."

"Kiyi."

"You want her to have babies."

"Kiyi..."

She started cackling.

The worst part was that eventually Sokka and Zuko started enabling each other. "I think she'd be a good mom."

The words slipped out during another late-night conversation. Sokka immediately nodded.

"Obviously."

Zuko frowned. "Obviously?"

"Have you met her?"

"Yes."

"Exactly."

That wasn't helpful. At all.

Sokka leaned back, "She already takes care of everyone."

"That's different."

"Not really."

"It is."

"Nope."

Zuko hated that he had a point.

A month later, you finally noticed something was wrong. It happened during dinner. Toph, Kataraand Aang were visiting from Republic City. The entire table was crowded and somehow the conversation turned toward families.

"I want six kids." Everyone turned toward Sokka.

"What?" he asked.

Katara looked horrified at her brother's words, one Sokka was more than enough for her, she didn't need 6 mini hims running aorund. "Six?"

"Maybe eight." He announced, clearly joking.

"SOKKA."

"What?"

Then Kiyi pointed at you. "What about you?"

You nearly choked on your tea. "What about me?"

Kiyi looked delighted. "How many babies do you want?"

The entire table suddenly became very interested in their food.

Neither of your partners would look at you, which was suspicious.

You narrowed your eyes. "...Why are they acting weird?"

Toph immediately snorted. "Because they are weird."

The truth came out three weeks later. Mostly because Kiyi was seven and had no filter. You found her sitting in her room at the palace drawing.

"What are you making?"

Kiyi proudly held up the picture. You looked at it, there were three stick figures, you, Zuko, Sokka. It seemed normal until you noticed a couple of smaller stick figures.

"What is this?"

Kiyi beamed,"Your babies."

You blinked, "My what?"

"Your babies."

"...My babies?"

"Yep."

"Oh."

You paused, trying to find words, "Kiyi?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you draw this?"

The little girl looked confused. "Because they talk about it all the time."

You froze. "...Who talks about it?"

"Zuzu and Sokka."

The world stopped. "Oh."

That evening, you found both men in the palace gardens and the second they saw your face, they knew something was wrong.

"What happened?" Sokka asked.

You folded your arms.  "Kiyi happened."

They both immediately looked alarmed.

"Oh no," Zuko muttered.

"You've been talking about having children?"

Silence. It was so quite you were pretty sure you could hear crickets. Sokka looked at Zuko. Zuko looked at Sokka. And neither spoke, which was answer enough.

Your eyes widened. "Oh my spirits."

"It wasn't supposed to come out like this," Sokka said immediately.

"We weren't trying to pressure you," Zuko added.

"We just—"

Neither seemed sure how to finish.

"We love you."

"We both do." Sokka nodded.

"And when we think about the future..." He smiled sheepishly.

"You're in it." 

Your chest tightened.

"And eventually..." Zuko looked away briefly. "As ridiculous as this sounds."

"It doesn't."

"It does."

"It really does."

A laugh escaped you and the tension finally broke.

"We've talked about it," Sokka admitted.

"Probably more than normal people should."

"Definitely more than normal people should," Zuko corrected.

"And?"

They shared a look.

One of those silent conversations they'd somehow become good at.

Then both looked back at you.

"And someday," Sokka said softly.

"If it's something you wanted too..."

Zuko reached for your hand.

"We'd like to have a family with you."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

And suddenly every weird comment, awkward hine, adn  suspicious baby conversation made sense.

"You idiots."

Sokka immediately panicked. "That's not a no, right?"

You laughed. "It isn't a no."

[bunichuu]

best friend yuji is your forever :)

best friend yuji who you first met when you were 3 years old. he was a chubby little toddler who yelled at anything interesting that he saw. you don't remember much but your mom tells you that you always used to cling to yuji.

best friend yuji who would always ask his mom to bring you extra food when you guys were in elementary school. he'd happily give you his extra chocolate bar, his milk, his orange. whatever he had in his lunchbox, it'd end up in yours. he'd even peel the orange for you since you didn't know how to. best friend yuji who was so happy when he knew you both were going to the same middle school. he hugged you tightly when you told him, nearly suffocating you. "yuuu! t-too tight!" you gasp. yuji pulls away, sheepishly. "sorry... i'm just so happy" he smiles. his smile so bright, so cute. best friend yuji who got popular in middle school. he was handsome, sporty and just soo kind. yuji was labeled 'tiger of west junior high'. the name made you cringe but it was true, but not in the way that everyone else thought. you thought that, yes, he looks like tiger. a small baby tiger, that was yuji, your yuji. all the girls had crushes on him, and annoyingly so. there'd always be a love letter in his locker, girls giving him chocolate and much more. despite all that, yuji was still your best friend. he never ignored you for others and was still by your side the whole time. best friend yuji who was still popular in high school, probably even more popular. he was growing muscle and getting taller. he was the captain and ace of the football team. he got busier with football, clubs and studies. but still, he was your best friend. he'd still make time to hang out with you even when his schedule was jam-packed. that was the type of person he was. even when yuji was tired from practice, he'd still drive you to your favourite ice cream shop and buy you your favorite flavour.

best friend yuji who you love. you've always known you love him. you've loved him for a long time. but you just didn't wanna tell him. how can you tell your best friend you're in love with him? how can you tell him that at 3 years old, you saw his chubby pink cheeks and his gummy smile and fell in love with him? best friend yuji who is now with you in college. he's still captain of the football team but he's bigger now, more muscular and taller. he towers over everyone and could easily pick you up with one arm. he's more handsome now too, his jawline sharp, his expression matured and yet, he still looks at you like you're his whole world, with his soft eyes that make you melt and your face red. "are you okay?" yuji asks as he tries to examine your red face. "i'm fine, yu" you quickly hide your face away. "it's just super hot." "but it's autumn?" yuji says, dumbfounded. best friend yuji who is so oblivious. he doesn't know why so many girls keep inviting him over, saying they want to have some 'fun'. he just thinks they want to hang out but he doesn't know them so he politely rejects them with a smile, while you stand there, feeling jealously pour into you. "do you really not know what they're asking for, yu?" you ask, fed up watching girls flock over yuji, your best friend. "hm? no not really" he pouts at your tone. "you're so oblivious, yu" you sigh. "i'm not!" he defends, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you guys walk. if you weren't then you'd know i like you, yu.

you wanna tell yuji, your best friend yuji. you want to tell him how much you love him. it hurts to keep it from your best friend, how much you want him to be yours and for you to be his. best friend yuji is in the middle of practice when he sees you standing near the bleachers. he tells his coach he'll be back soon and runs over to you. "y/n!" he hugs you, sweaty and hot. "yu..." you hug back, nuzzling into him. he backs away, curious at your tone. "is something wrong?" he asks. he always knows if there's something. it's his best and worst trait. "i need to tell you something." you mumble, feeling the nerves creep up on you. "okay. what is it?" he asks, already listening intently. you look into his soft, large brown eyes. you can see yourself in them and suddenly, it hits you. you've spent nearly your whole life with yuji. you've spent 16 years with him. it's honestly pathetic how you're only telling him now. you wonder now, in the 2 seconds it's been, what he'll say, what he'll do. but it's no use thinking that. you're gonna tell him now. "i like you, yu." his eyes widen. "no... i actually love you." you correct yourself. it goes silent, yuji stares at you in shock and you can feel tears sting your eyes but you hold them back. yuji frowns and you know, you know what he's gonna say. he looks away from you, unable to meet your eyes as he breaks your heart. "i'm sorry y/n... i can't say i feel the same." yuji says, in the softest tone you've ever heard him talk in. if only he used that tone to say yes. best friend yuji who rejects you and says sorry a thousand times after. he tries to hug you but you can't be near him any longer. you run away as his coach yells for him to come back. yuji who you avoid after that. you don't reply to his texts, you ignore and avoid him on campus. and honestly, he soon disappears. in the end, best friend yuji isn't your forever. ────୨ৎ──── author's note! just something i whipped up.. there's probably gonna be no fratgumi chapter this week or next week unfortunately ˙◠˙ so i made this instead. first time writing angst and yuji... do we like it? • ᴗ < it honestly hurt my soul to write it but whatever...

[luckybrandjs]

𝜗ৎ one piece x reader: random things that make them fall for you

ft. luffy, zoro, sanji, robin, ace, law

𓍢ִ໋❀ luffy

having a loud/obnoxious laugh. most jokes inevitably go over luffy's head, and he'll just look confused. what really knocks him out, though, is the incredibly offbeat laugh you let out; the joke itself doesn't have to be all that witty, but the way it has you cackling makes it the most hysterical thing in the world.

not being picky. of course, this mainly goes for food. but it also means being down for whatever, whenever; you never question it when luffy says to do something, you never bring down the mood. you just nod and trust him to keep you from ever being bored or unhappy.

expressive body language. you're very comfortable with your emotions; you're not scared to show them. you'll cry when your sad, be energetic when your excited, and smile when your happy. it just makes you an easy person to be around, and luffy can't help but be drawn to you for the same reasons people are drawn to him.

𓍢ִ໋❀ zoro

resting bitch face. obviously zoro has one. but he really likes it on you, too. it'll come out whenever your too focused, or too bored, and nothing seems too exciting. that is, until zoro appears, and the brightest smile appears on your face. suddenly you look like the friendliest and most approachable person on the planet.

having a good memory. zoro gets lost often, obviously. so its nice to be around someone who at least remembers the route they took. but it's the way you remember every little detail about him, even ones he himself forgot, that really gets him going.

competitiveness. others call you stubborn. you never back down until your proven wrong, and you won't stop playing until you win. but zoro is just like you in that sense. it could be something as trivial as a game of uno, but the amount of passion you pour into it always mirrors his. it makes winning all the more satisfying when its against someone who actually cares.

𓍢ִ໋❀ sanji

asking him for help. its not as if your incompetent, or unable to do anything by yourself, but rather you're comfortable enough in your own abilities to ask for help. and sanji knows this, too. whenever he gets a chance to go out of the way for you, he'll do it in a heartbeat (acts of service king).

being a perfectionist. you always know what you want; you always have a clear vision. but it also causes you to stress about every single detail that most wouldn't notice. yet sanji also appreciates the finer things in life, and will do everything in his power to meet your expectations. your high standards also make him feel like someone who's worth being around; if he can make you satisfied, he could really make anyone satisfied.

saying his name in conversations. the two of you could be casually talking on the deck, about something as boring as the weather, neither fully engaged. but the minute his name comes from your lips he gets all flustered. it astounds him every time, too, that just the way you say his name could really kill him.

𓍢ִ໋❀ robin

braiding her hair. you could just be leaning on her shoulder, playing with her hair while her attention was occupied by something else, and make it seem like she was the most fascinating thing there. just your presence alone was enough; she never felt the need to put on a performance or humor you to receive tenderness.

interest in her interests. robin knows her part on the crew is vital, yet none of the other strawhats seem too keen on her passion for history. except for you, that is. archaeology isn't just a hobby of hers, it was the only constant in a decade full of turmoil and isolation. your attentiveness makes her feel like she's sharing a piece of her soul with you, a reminder that she's not only needed but also wanted.

committing to a bit. i think robin's sense of humor is somewhat under appreciated. she could be gaslighting luffy and chopper of something completely false, and you'd immediately get it and play along. if they ever mentioned it to someone else, the two of you would go out of the way to convince them of it too.

𓍢ִ໋❀ ace

watching you do something you love. ace is weird in that he could see someone he loves doing something as natural as a hobby of theirs, and fall in love all over again. he's awe struck by every small thing about you; anything you do can really knock him out. he could watch you just exist and be content for the rest of his life.

adding "my" in front of every nickname. he swears it kills him. you'll never just call him "handsome" or "baby," its always "my handsome boy" or "my baby" with you. he just loves that he's someone's one and only, no matter how corny others may find it.

oversharing. not only does ace love everything about you, he wants to know everything about you, too. he practically wants to become you, just too see exactly how your mind works. and being able to talk to him about anything just goes to show how much you trust him, and how safe he makes you feel.

𓍢ִ໋❀ law

comfortable silence. law's life is full of chaos, from his crew, to his plans, and to the emotional turbulence inside his mind. but your presence has the ability to silence the rest of the world; it reminds him of his time with corazon. the two of you just mind your own business usually, but it's better than being on your own.

having niche or weird hobbies. law's never been super talkative or anything, but he loves listening whenever you talk about something you love. especially if it's something others would find strange, like lock-picking or bookbinding. it makes him feel less weird about coin collecting.

being the only one too laugh at his joke. law usually gets drowned out by others in a large group setting, but it's not as if he really minds. yet still, he can't help but feel a sort of intimate connection when you laugh at something he muttered that no one else even heard. it's just reassuring to know someone's always listening.

anything but studying for finals 🥹🥹

part two maybe 👀👀??

[strawberrychansora]

when they say "i love you" for the first time

pairing: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace, sabo x fem!reader

summary: the moment they realize they can't keep it inside anymore. different settings, different timelines, but the same three words.

scenarios: luffy: set during a quiet sunset on the thousand sunny. zoro: set in wano, in the quiet aftermath of the battle against kaido. sanji: set on the sunny right after the escape from whole cake island. law: set in the ruins of dressrosa after doflamingo is defeated. ace: a happy au where he survives marineford and returns to the moby dick. sabo: set on a revolutionary army ship departing dressrosa, following the emotional reunion with luffy.

op.mlist

monkey d. luffy

the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, painting the thousand sunny in shades of messy orange and soft pink. it was one of those rare, quiet moments on the ship where nobody was screaming or exploding things. usopp and franky were tinkering below deck, and sanji was busy clattering around in the kitchen, sending the smell of roasting meat through the salty air.

zoro was napping near the mast, and you were sitting on the grassy deck, leaning your back against the railing. luffy was sprawled out next to you, his straw hat tipped over his eyes, kicking his sandals against the wood.

"it's so peaceful today," you murmured, watching the waves trail behind the ship.

luffy hummed in response, lifting the brim of his hat just enough to peek out at you with one bright eye. "yeah. the wind feels good. i like when it’s like this."

he sat up suddenly, his dark hair messy from the breeze. he wasn't looking at the ocean, though. he was looking at you. luffy had this way of staring that felt like he was seeing everything at once—not just your face, but your whole spirit. it was intense, but in the best way possible.

"you’re making that face again," he said, tilting his head.

"what face?" you asked, laughing a little.

"the happy one. the one you make when you're looking at the sea," he grinned, his smile stretching wide across his face. "i like that face. it's my favorite."

you felt your cheeks get a little warm, but you didn't look away. that was the thing about luffy—he was so honest that it made it easy for you to be honest, too. you reached out and adjusted his hat, tucking a stray strand of black hair underneath the straw rim.

"i'm just glad to be here, luffy. with everyone. with you."

luffy went quiet for a second. he watched your hand as it dropped back to the grass. the air smelled like sea salt and the spices sanji was using for dinner. the ship rocked gently, a steady rhythm that felt like a heartbeat.

"hey," luffy said softly. his voice lost that loud, boisterous edge it usually had. it was grounded and certain. "i've been thinking."

"that's dangerous," you joked, but your heart started to thrum a little faster.

"i decided something a long time ago," he continued, ignoring the jab. he moved closer, his knee brushing against yours. "i want you on my ship forever. not just because you're great at what you do, but because when you aren't around, the meat doesn't taste as good and the adventures feel smaller."

he reached out and took your hand. his skin was warm and calloused from climbing ropes and fighting giants, but his grip was incredibly gentle.

"i love you," he said.

it wasn't a question. it wasn't a confession filled with doubt or nerves. it was a statement of fact, as clear and undeniable as his dream to be the king of the pirates. to luffy, love wasn't a complicated riddle; it was just the truth of how he felt.

"i love you more than meat, i think. and i really love meat," he added with a small, genuine laugh.

you felt a lump form in your throat, the good kind. you squeezed his hand back, feeling the strength in his fingers. "luffy... i love you too. so much."

he didn't wait for anything else. he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you in one of his signature hugs, but instead of being bouncy and wild, it was slow. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his straw hat falling onto the grass behind him.

"good," he whispered into your skin, his breath warm. "then that's settled. we're staying together until the very end of the world."

the moment was broken by sanji’s voice echoing from the galley, shouting that dinner was ready. usually, luffy would be the first one through the door, knocking over chairs to get to the plate, but he didn't move right away.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he gave you one last, firm squeeze of the hand before jumping up and grabbing his hat.

"let's go eat!" he cheered, back to his usual energetic self, but he kept his fingers laced through yours as he started leading you toward the kitchen. "i'm gonna tell sanji to give you the biggest piece of meat because i love you!"

you laughed, following him across the deck, the orange sunlight catching on the sunny figurehead. the world was big and dangerous, and there were emperors and marines waiting over the horizon, but right here, with luffy’s hand in yours, everything felt exactly the way it was supposed to be.

roronoa zoro

the moon was hanging high over the flower capital, casting long, silver shadows across the quiet courtyard of the palace. the celebratory feast was still technicaly going on inside—you could hear the distant, muffled sound of luffy laughing and brook’s violin drifting through the paper walls—but out here, it was just the smell of pine needles and the cool night air.

zoro was sitting on the wooden engawa porch, one leg propped up and his arm resting on his knee. he looked battered; his chest was wrapped in thick bandages from the fight on the rooftop, and he had that exhausted, heavy look in his eyes that only came after pushing past every possible limit.

you stepped out onto the porch, the wood creaking softly under your feet. he didn't turn his head, but his shoulders relaxed just a fraction. he knew it was you without looking.

"shouldn't you be inside?" he asked, his voice gravelly and low. "there's still plenty of sake left."

"i could ask you the same thing," you said, sitting down beside him, making sure to leave enough space so you didn't bump his injuries. "but i think you've had enough for one night. or for one lifetime."

zoro let out a short, dry huff that was almost a laugh. "maybe. but the quiet is better."

he finally looked at you. his one eye was sharp, even in his tired state. he spent so much of his life looking for the next enemy or the next challenge, but when he looked at you, that intensity changed. it wasn't a gaze that was looking for a fight; it was a gaze that was looking for home.

the silence between you two wasn't awkward. it was heavy and comfortable, like an old blanket. you watched his hand stray to the hilt of wado ichimonji, his fingers tracing the familiar wrapping.

"you scared me this time," you whispered, the honesty slipping out before you could stop it. "up there. against the emperors. i thought..."

"i'm not that easy to kill," zoro interrupted. he turned his body toward you, his movements slow and careful. "i told you before. i’m not losing again until i'm the greatest. and i'm not leaving you behind to deal with these idiots alone."

he went quiet for a second, looking down at his calloused hands. zoro wasn't a man of many words. he expressed himself through the weight of his swords and the blood he spilled for his crew. but tonight, under the wano moon, the air felt different. the war was over. they had won.

"i spent a lot of time thinking when things got dark up there," he said, his voice dropping an octave. he reached out, his hand hovering for a second before he let his fingers brush against your wrist. "about things i haven't said. things i usually think don't need saying because i'm here, aren't i?"

you held your breath. "zoro?"

he let out a heavy sigh, looking almost annoyed with himself for having to be vulnerable, but he didn't pull his hand away. instead, he slid his hand down to catch yours, his grip firm and steady.

"i don't know how to do the flowery stuff," he muttered, looking you dead in the eye. "and i'm probably always going to be heading toward a fight. but i want you standing where i can see you. i love you. more than my own life, i think. definitely more than the steel."

your heart skipped. hearing those words from someone as stoic as zoro felt like witnessing something sacred. it wasn't a whim; it was a vow.

"i love you too," you replied, leaning in until your forehead rested against his shoulder. "stubbornness and all."

zoro shifted, ignoring the wince of pain from his ribs to wrap his arm around you, pulling you in close. he rested his chin on top of your head, the scent of sandalwood and iron clinging to him.

"good," he grunted, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. "now stay here for a bit. the moon looks better from here anyway."

you stayed like that for a long time, listening to his steady heartbeat. he was the strongest man you knew, a demon on the battlefield, but right here, he was just a man holding onto the person he loved most in the world.

blackleg sanji

the air on the sunny was cooling down as the ship sailed further away from totto land. the adrenaline from the escape had finally started to fade, replaced by a heavy, bone-deep exhaustion. the rest of the crew was starting to settle in for the night, but the galley light was still glowing gold against the dark wood of the deck.

sanji was inside, but he wasn't cooking his usual frantic, multi-course feast. he was standing by the counter, moving slowly, his movements uncharacteristically quiet.

you pushed the door open, the bell chiming softly. sanji didn't jump; he just looked up, his eyes softening the moment they landed on you. he looked tired—more tired than you had ever seen him. the bruises from his brothers were still fading, and there was a lingering shadow in his expression that hadn't quite lifted yet.

"you should be resting y/n-chan," he said, though there was no bite in his tone. "you did more than enough today. more than i deserved."

"i couldn't sleep," you said, walking over to the counter. "and don't say that. i’d do it a thousand times over."

sanji stopped what he was doing—preparing a simple pot of tea. he set the tin down and just looked at you. the guilt of leaving, the pain of what happened with his family, and the overwhelming relief of being back home were all swirling in his blue eyes. he felt like he owed you everything. during the chaos of whole cake island, you had been the one to keep his spirits up when he felt like he was drowning.

"i thought i lost this," he whispered, gesturing to the kitchen around him, then his voice cracked slightly. "i thought i lost you. i was ready to give it all up to keep you all safe, but the thought of never seeing you smile at a meal i made again... it was the hardest part."

you reached across the counter, placing your hand over his. his skin was warm, but his fingers were trembling just a little bit.

"sanji, look at me," you said gently.

he met your gaze. usually, sanji was all hearts and exaggerated compliments, spinning around and shouting his devotion. but this wasn't that. this was the man behind the persona—the one who felt things so deeply it sometimes hurt him.

he walked around the counter until he was standing right in front of you. he didn't do a dramatic bow or a flashy gesture. he just reached out and cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

"i've spent my whole life trying to prove i have worth by serving others," he said, his voice barely a murmur. "but when you came for me... when you risked everything just to bring a failure like me back... i realized i don't want to just be your cook. or your protector."

he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. he smelled like cigarettes and expensive flour and the faint, sweet scent of the tea he’d been brewing.

"i love you," he breathed. "not like a knight loves a princess, and not because of some silly code. i love you because you're the only person who ever made me feel like being just sanji was enough. i love you so much it scares me."

the sincerity in his voice was overwhelming. it was a raw, honest confession stripped of all the usual theatrics.

you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close, feeling the steady thrum of his heart against your chest. "i love you too, sanji. we're never letting you go again."

sanji let out a long, shaky breath, as if he had been holding it since he left zou. he buried his face in your shoulder, finally letting himself relax. the tension left his frame, replaced by a soft, sugary warmth.

after a long moment, he pulled back just an inch, a tiny, genuine smirk playing on his lips—the first real one you’d seen in weeks.

"well then," he whispered, kissing your forehead. "i suppose i have to make sure you're the best-fed person on all the five seas for the rest of our lives. it’s the least i can do for the person who saved my heart."

he turned back to the stove, but this time he kept one arm firmly around your waist, refusing to let you get more than a few inches away. the tea was forgotten as he started to whip up your favorite dessert, humming a low, happy tune under his breath.

trafalgar law

the sun was finally setting over the ruins of dressrosa. the smell of dust and spent gunpowder still hung in the air, but the frantic sounds of battle had been replaced by the distant noise of the citizens celebrating their freedom.

law was sitting away from the main group, propped up against a crumbling stone wall in a secluded corner of the royal plateau. he was covered in bandages—his arm was in a sling, and his dark circles were deeper than usual. he looked completely drained, like a man who had finally finished a marathon he’d been running for thirteen years.

you found him there, holding a small bottle of water in his good hand, staring out at the horizon. you didn't say anything at first; you just sat down beside him, your shoulder resting against his.

he didn't pull away. he didn't even look up, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

"you're supposed to be with the straw hats," he said, his voice raspy and exhausted. "luffy is probably eating half the island by now."

"i'd rather be here," you replied softly. "how are you feeling? and give me the honest doctor's answer, not the 'i'm fine' captain answer."

law let out a long, heavy sigh, leaning his head back against the stone. "everything hurts. but for the first time in my life... the air doesn't feel so heavy. it's done. corazon can finally rest."

he turned his head then, looking at you. his eyes were clouded with a mix of relief and something much more vulnerable. through the entire plan—from punk hazard to the chaos of the birdcage—you had been the one person who didn't just follow his lead, but actually looked out for him. you were the one who made sure he ate, the one who patched his smaller wounds, and the one who stayed by his side when he thought he was going to die in that palace.

"why did you stay?" he asked suddenly. "when doflamingo had me pinned... when it looked like the whole plan was falling apart. i told you to run with the others."

"i don't take orders from other captains, law," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "especially not when they're being idiots and trying to throw their lives away."

law looked away, a faint dusting of color hitting his pale cheekbones. he reached out with his good hand, his long, tattooed fingers hesitant before he rested them over yours. his skin was cool, but his grip was sure.

"i've spent my whole life thinking about revenge," he murmured, his voice so low you had to lean in to hear him. "i didn't think there was room for anything else. i didn't want there to be. people are a liability. feelings are just variables that mess up a calculated plan."

he squeezed your hand, his thumb tracing the "D-E-A-T-H" tattoos on his knuckles.

"but you... you're a variable i can't seem to account for. you make me want to have a future that isn't just a grave."

he shifted, wincing slightly as he moved his injured shoulder to face you more directly. he looked at you with an intensity that felt like he was performing surgery on your very soul—precise, honest, and deep.

"i love you," he said. the words were blunt, lacking the flair of a pirate or the sweetness of a poet, but they carried the weight of a man who didn't say things he didn't mean. "i don't really know how to be a 'normal' person, and i'm probably going to be a difficult man to walk beside. but i don't want to walk without you."

you felt tears prick at your eyes, and you didn't bother to hide them. you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, right near the edge of his sideburn.

"you're stuck with me, surgeon," you whispered. "i love you too."

law closed his eyes, let out a shaky breath, and rested his forehead against yours. the tension he had carried since he was a child in flevance seemed to melt away, just for a moment. he didn't say anything else—he didn't need to. he just held your hand in the dark, watching the stars come out over a kingdom that was finally free, realizing that for the first time, he was free too.

portgas d. ace

the air on the moby dick was thick with the smell of medicinal herbs and the salty ocean breeze, but for the first time in weeks, it didn't feel heavy with dread. the whitebeard pirates were celebrating—not with a roar yet, as many were still bandaging wounds, but with a deep, collective sigh of relief.

ace was sitting on the edge of the infirmary bed, his chest wrapped in thick white gauze. he looked thinner, his skin a bit paler than usual, but the fire in his eyes was back. luffy was fast asleep on a pile of cushions in the corner, snoring loudly after the exhaustion of marineford finally caught up to him.

you were standing by the small bedside table, organizing the fresh bandages and water. you hadn't really stopped moving since the escape. if you stopped moving, you might have to think about how close you came to losing him.

"you’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that," ace said softly.

you stopped and looked at him. he wasn't wearing his hat or a shirt, just the bandages and his black shorts. he looked human. he looked alive.

"i'm just making sure everything is ready for when marco comes back," you murmured, avoiding his eyes. "you lost a lot of blood, ace. you need to stay still."

"hey," he said, his voice a bit more firm. "look at me."

you finally looked up, and the sight of him—safe, breathing, and smiling that lopsided, tired smile—made your throat tighten. you dropped the roll of bandages and stepped closer, your hands trembling just a little.

"we almost lost you," you whispered, the reality finally crashing down. "if luffy hadn't reached you, if i hadn't been there to block that last hit... i thought i was watching the world end."

ace reached out with his uninjured arm and grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward him until you were standing between his knees. he leaned his forehead against your stomach, letting out a long, shaky breath.

"i know," he muttered into your clothes. "i spent that whole time on the scaffold thinking about all the things i never got to do. i thought about pops, and my brothers... and i thought about you. i thought about how i never told you that the time we spent together in alabasta was the first time i felt like maybe it was okay that i was born."

he pulled back to look at you, his dark eyes shimmering. ace was always the cool big brother, the flashy commander with the flame-flame fruit, but right now, he just looked like a young man who had been given a second chance at life.

"i don't want to waste any more time," he said. he reached up, his hand cupping the back of your neck to pull you down until your faces were inches apart. "i love you. i've loved you since that night we sat on the dunes and watched the stars, but i was too caught up in my own head to say it."

he didn't wait for a response before he kissed you. it wasn't like his fire—it wasn't hot or destructive. it was soft, desperate, and tasted like salt and life. it was the kind of kiss that promised a thousand more tomorrow's.

when he pulled away, he was grinning, those familiar freckles dancing on his cheeks. "so, you're stuck with me now. i'm not going anywhere. i promise."

you laughed through a few stray tears, leaning forward to hug him tightly, careful of his ribs. "you better not, portgas d. ace. i didn't fight an admiral just for you to keep being reckless."

"no promises on the reckless part," he joked, burying his face in your hair. "but i'll always come back to you. that’s a promise.”

outside, you could hear marco calling out to the crew, and the sound of a barrel being tapped. the sun was rising over the sea, bright and hopeful, and for the first time in a long time, the future didn't look like a fight—it looked like a home.

Sabo

the revolutionary army ship was cutting through the waves, leaving dressrosa far behind in a blur of smoke and sunflower petals. the deck was quiet, mostly just the rhythm of the ocean and the low chatter of guards in the distance.

sabo was leaning against the railing, his top hat perched precariously on a wooden crate nearby. he looked exhausted—there were smudges of soot on his cheeks and his blond hair was a complete disaster from the wind—but he had this small, permanent smile on his face that hadn't faded since he'd reunited with luffy.

you walked up beside him, shivering slightly as the night air turned crisp. without even looking, sabo shifted closer, letting the heat from his literal fire-fruit-soul radiate toward you like a personal space heater.

"you're thinking about him again, aren't you?" you asked softly, leaning your elbows on the rail.

sabo let out a huffy, breathless laugh. "is it that obvious? i just... i can't get over how big he got. he’s still a crybaby, and he’s still reckless as hell, but man... he’s really doing it. he’s really becoming someone incredible."

he turned to you, his scarred eye crinkling as he smiled. "thanks for being there, by the way. for looking out for him when i couldn't. i know he’s a handful, but seeing you by his side back there... it made me feel like i didn't have to worry so much."

you smiled back, but your heart gave a weird little thump. "he's family, sabo. and besides, i didn't just do it for him. i did it because i knew how much it would mean to you."

sabo went quiet. the orange glow of a nearby lantern caught the gold in his hair. he reached out, his fingers hovering over the railing before he tentatively slid his hand over yours. his skin was always warm now—a side effect of the flare-flare fruit—and it felt like a direct line to his heartbeat.

"you always do that," he murmured, his voice dropping into that gentle, low register that usually made your brain turn to mush.

"do what?"

"look out for everyone else's heart before your own," he said. he stepped closer, closing the gap until the toes of his boots were touching yours. "you spent the whole mission making sure luffy was okay, making sure the revolutionaries were safe... making sure i didn't overdo it with my new powers."

he took a deep breath, looking down at your joined hands. for a guy who could go toe-to-toe with an admiral, he looked strangely nervous.

"i spent years not knowing who i was," sabo said, his voice steady but raw. "and even after i got my memory back, i felt like i was living for the cause, or for ace’s legacy. but then there’s you. when i’m with you, i don't feel like the chief of staff or luffy’s brother. i just feel like... sabo. and i realized i really, really like being that guy when he’s with you."

he looked up, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made the rest of the world melt away.

"i don't want to just see you between missions anymore. i want to be the reason you’re smiling when the sun comes up. i love you. i think i’ve loved you since the moment you yelled at me for being too reckless in baltigo."

your breath hitched, and a wide, goofy grin broke across your face. "it’s about time you noticed, you idiot."

sabo’s face lit up, his eyes widening in relief before he let out a loud, joyous laugh. he reached forward, catching you by the waist and lifting you off your feet, spinning you around once while you laughed into his shoulder.

when he set you down, he didn't let go. he rested his forehead against yours, his hands warm against the small of your back.

"so... it's a deal then?" he whispered, his breath smelling like the sea and the faint scent of smoke. "wherever the wind blows the revolutionaries, you're staying right next to me?"

"always," you promised.

sabo grinned, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "good. because now that i've got my brother back and i've got you... i think i'm the luckiest guy on any of these blue seas."

he reached over, snagged his top hat, and plopped it onto your head, the oversized brim falling over your eyes. "now come on, let's go get some coffee before koala finds us and starts yelling about the paperwork we're ignoring."