idk what i'm doing i only know that the one on the left is a kid and the one on the right is a grown up

anonymous asked:

Natasha recommending all these different perfectly nice, ladies for Cap to go out with and he finally just goes 'I'm not into them I have someone else' except not all dramatic and cliche but like lighthearted and fluffy and funny idk???

They’re in a van, because when you work for a well funded government organisation (or a private one bankrolled by an eccentric billionaire) start missions in planes. When you’re on the run in one hundred and seventeen current countries, you get a van and hope bullets don’t like it

“Sharon.”

Scott Lang is driving, and while the guy has been pretty obliging up to this point, this is so not a conversation Steve wants to have in his earshot.

He’s pretty sure that’s why Natasha brought it up. Her sense of humour is terrible. He stares at the van’s back doors.

“She’s Peggy’s niece.”

Which, he muses, had been a pro and a con. Sharon understood the mark a woman like Peggy Carter could leave on your life. They could share in each other's’ grief, and there was no denying that she was a good woman. The sort of women he’d ask out for coffee. Maybe take dancing, once upon a time.

But she’s Peggy’s niece.

“Come on, Steve, i’m not suggesting you settle down and get married with two point four kids and a dog.” Natasha tightens her ponytail. It’s a new look for her. He likes it. Not that it’s his job to have feelings about her hair either way. “It’s about connection. Making a life in this world.”

“Black Widow. Super spy, therapist.” He keeps his focus on the door. “I have connections. Most of them are fugitives now, thanks to me, but I have connections,”

“Is this your way of telling me you aren’t the ninety year old virgin?”

“Yes. I’ve been struggling with how to tell you, but I guess it’s out in the open now. I have had–” and then he rolls his eyes at her, jerking his head towards the van doors. Bullets ping off them. One pings into them. It’s times like this Steve really misses his shield.

“Wanda.”

The suggestion is so absurd, and also they’re in the middle of infiltrating a Hydra base, that it takes Steve a second to realise exactly what she’s talking about.

To his right, Bucky snorts. While Steve is usually appreciative of the fact that his best friend is back from the dead (and worse), right now he - okay, he’s still appreciative of that, but he wishes the guy was doing it somewhere else. Far away from this conversation.

“Jesus, Nat.” Footsteps up ahead cut off his follow up for a moment, and he has them all halt before gesturing at Natasha. She glides up ahead like a phantom, and a crackle of blue lights up her silhouette. He waits until they catch up before saying– “She’s a kid.”

“Steve. She’s younger than you, not an infant.”

“I am not interested in Wanda.

“Something wrong with Wanda?” Bucky asks. Somewhere in the compound an alarm goes off.

Steve can commiserate.

“This conversation is over,” he declares, and starts running.

The whole ‘get Steve a girl’ game is exactly that. It’s not something they have actual conversations about. Steve has his own reasons for not bringing it up, but for Nat - it seems like something she enjoys doing just to rib him during the non-essential part of the missions. Prod at Steve, let off some steam, complete objective.

So when it comes up on a quiet evening in some nothing motel, he knows to pay attention.

Bucky’s out, and Steve’s trying not to watch the door. But the only other option is Natasha fresh out of the shower, dressed in a worn pair of shorts and an old shirt of his. She tips her hair to the side as she towels off her hair, and Steve feels his eyes slide away.

It’s intimate in a way his life hasn’t been for a long time. There’s not a lot left in the world for Steve to be familiar with, these days. But he has this.

“Bucky,” she says, and the word drops into the room like a pebble into a pond.

This is not a game.

He considers briefly pretending not to understand. To glance out the window like he thought she’d seen the other man, to play dumb. He’s had a lot of experience with that, the last few years.

Perched on the edge of a creaky old mattress, he leans back on his hands, finally letting himself look at her. Her face is carefully blank. She switches to the other side of her hair. This, too, is familiar.

“You’d think so, huh?” He drags his eyes from her, up to the ceiling, traces a crack there towards the bare wall. There’s water damage.

“I don’t like to assume.”

“That makes you against the rest of the world.” He shrugs. “I dunno what to tell you, Nat. I love him, but you think if either of us wanted that, we wouldn’t already have it?”

“Social mores were a little different when the two of you were growing up.”

He snorts. “We’re all too old to worry about that shit.”

“Language.”

He reaches back, throws a pillow at her. She drops the towel, catching it and hurling it back; he dodges with a laugh, and pats the mattress next to him. Her hesitation is a weakness she doesn’t let many other people see; this, too, is intimacy.

But she sits, pulling her legs up under her. That green gaze scraps his chin. He does his best to meet it.

“There’s someone,” he says, and hears it’s you. Her fingers curl a little lighter of her calf, and Steve thinks she might hear it as well. “But she’s been having some trouble finding herself lately. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“What if that someone is a grown woman who can make up her own mind about what is and isn’t in the way?”

His lips quirk up a little. “Well, then I’d have to ask what that someone’s been doing trying to get me to date other people for the last couple of years.”

Natasha snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cap. It hasn’t been that long, I don’t do pining.”

“Do you do coffee?”

It startles a laugh out of her, and that might just be the most beautiful thing he’s seen all damn week. “There’s no way you were that smooth in the forties.” The laugh settles into a smile, and he’s seen her pull a lot of those since they started working together, but this–

This is just simple pleasure. Like an ice cream cone. Like going out for a drink.

“Yeah,” she adds. “Yes, I do coffee.”

“Then it’s a date.”

not-her-e  asked:

(okay idk if i'm doing this right but... ) makoharu and haru wearing makoto's clothes:x !!

Neither of them could remember how it had started; it had been like this ever since they could remember.

Whenever one spent the night at the other’s house, some clothes would be lent to the guest to sleep in. It was no problem when they were still kids, though Haru was a little taller than Makoto, they fit the same size so borrowing each other’s pajamas was easier than bringing a pair of their own.

That was how it always had been and neither had ever questioned it.

Until one fateful day the sight of Haru wearing his clothes made Makoto question his entire existence.

It was a Friday evening and Haru was spending the night at Makoto’s house like he did almost every week. After dinner they had gone to Makoto’s room accompanied by Ran and Ren, who claimed that they were going to stay up all night with their brother and his friend, yet had fallen asleep before Makoto and Haru had selected which game they were going to play. Not long after that Mrs. Tachibana went to retrieve the two so she could brush their teeth and put them to bed. When she came back about half an hour she told them that the bath was ready for them. Knowing his best friend better than anyone, Makoto had offered Haru that he could go first and of course, Haru didn’t need to be told twice. Without thinking he had pulled a shirt and a pair of shorts out of his dresser and handed them to Haru, who wordlessly accepted them and retreated to the bathroom.

So Makoto was left alone in his room and he continued to play a few rounds of the game as he waited for Haru to return.

Eventually Haru came back and Makoto turned his head towards him, about to ask him if the bathroom was free when all the thoughts in his head evaporated into thin air and the world stopped spinning as he laid his eyes upon the familiar figure that was his best friend.

His black hair was damp and tousled by his half-hearted attempts of drying it, his cheeks were flushed red by the steam of the hot water and that made his ocean blue eyes even more vibrant and breathtaking than usual, and though he looked absolutely beautiful right now, that was not what knocked the air out of Makoto’s lungs, not what made every trace of his common sense disappear.

The shirt that Makoto had given Haru was too big for him, so big it was sagging off his shoulder and exposed the porcelain skin of his clavicle. It made Haru look smaller than he actually was as he was practically drowning in the material. The shorts weren’t much better; the drawstring being the only thing preventing them from slipping off his hips, the fabric covering more of his slim legs than shorts should.

Ever since they had entered middle school Makoto had hit a huge growth spurt that made all of his clothes too small and thus Makoto’s mother had taken him out shopping a week prior so he could wear things that actually fit him again. Before he had grown so much all of a sudden he was already a bit bigger than Haru, his clothes a size larger than his friend’s so they were a bit too big on his slender frame , but it had never been so obvious. Not so obvious as it was right now.

For the first time upon witnessing his best friend in his clothes, something inside Makoto cracked. A surge of warmth rushed towards his face and his heart and he was overwhelmed by all sorts of feelings that he didn’t know the meaning of.
Gaping at Haru like a fish out of water, Makoto was torn between averting his eyes and letting them wander over the beauty that was standing before him. Even though he knew the only reasonable option was the former, there was something in him that made him unable to do so.

“Something wrong?”

The sound of that stoic voice took him back to reality. Immediately he closed his mouth - that had fallen open without his awareness - and turned his head back towards the screen before him, noticing that he hadn’t paused the game he was playing and realising how stupid he must have looked.

“I, uh, no, I-” he stuttered, trying to regain his composure, “I-I’m going to take a bath now,” he evaded the question, his voice cracking like it did so often lately, which only added to his embarrassment as he jumped up and practically ran out of the room.

Once he was safely inside the bathroom, a deep sigh left his lips. He had no idea what was overcoming him all of a sudden; his heart was beating faster than it ever had, his body was tingling and his head was filled with nothing but images of Haru in his oversized clothes and thoughts of how cute and beautiful his friend had looked. It wasn’t as if he didn’t think his friend was beautiful or cute otherwise, because Haru had always been good-looking, but never before had it messed with Makoto’s brain like it was doing right now. Hell, he had never felt like this before in general, about nothing and no one. Or maybe he had, but hadn’t realised it until now.

Was this what it meant to be attracted to someone?

Only when his frantic heartbeat had returned to normal and he had regained somewhat of a composure, Makoto left the bathroom to join Haru in his bedroom. If Haru had noticed Makoto’s odd behaviour, he had decided to be kind on his soul and not mention it.

They resumed with their game as if nothing had happened. The only difference was that Makoto couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering every once in a while, letting him feast on the view of this beautiful boy in his clothes and along with the knowledge that this beautiful boy was his best friend made a flair of pride mixed with something he couldn’t name shoot through his body.

Then Haru caught him staring and looked at him with a inquiring gaze, his eyebrows upturned and Makoto could read the same question he had asked before in those vivid eyes.

“It’s nothing!” Makoto tried to brush off as blood rushed towards his cheeks. The pride he had felt soon changed into embarrassment and shame at being caught. Knowing he needed to recover himself, he explained, “I just, I was thinking that maybe you should bring your own clothes next time. Since mine are so big and all. I mean, that can’t be comfortable right?” He had attempted to sound as nonchalant as possible, but it wasn’t entirely working. Lady luck was not on his side tonight. 

“Hmm.” This noncommital hum was all the response he got, but knowing Haru, it was the best he was going to get.

Not a single word was spoken about the matter after that. Makoto did his best to get his mind off of this revelation of his and focus on the game instead, but it wasn’t easy considering Haru was sitting right next to him, their bare knees touching.

It was hard, but eventually Makoto managed to drop the subject in his head and the night proceeded without any other hiccups. Now he just hoped that Haru would do as he had told him and would bring his own clothes the next time.

But Haru didn’t. Every sleepover at the Tachibana residence that followed afterwards, Haru arrived without any clothes of his own, which left Makoto no choice but to lend him some of his own. He never commented on it; nothing was ever mentioned about that one night again.

At the time Makoto saw this habit of theirs as a curse disguised as a blessing, for knowing someone so gorgeous and captivating was sitting right next to him, wearing his clothes, but not being allowed to stare felt like pure torture, and this thought made him even more embarrassed about the whole thing than he already was.

As time passed and their relationship progressed, Makoto’s opinion slowly changed and he began to acknowledge how much of a blessing this childhood habit of theirs actually was. He no longer felt flustered when he saw Haru in a shirt that was his or a pair of his shorts that was so big on his lithe body that it was exposing his hip bones. Of course, Haru still looked absolutely adorable and beautiful, that would never change and Makoto enjoyed every second of seeing him in his clothes. But rather than embarrassed and flustered, he now felt proud.

Proud that he was allowed to call someone as amazing as Haru his boyfriend.


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