#gonna chop this post up and snort it

[twistedpartywolf]

I wanna cuddle tiny Rebecca and keep her safe, I'll even carry her up the stairs.

Minibecca?!

[brunchable]

This is Your Boyfriend Mom? [3]

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Our savage wittle boi Lucas x f!Reader.

Summary: It's Lucas' 7th Birthday and Bucky finally meets the Dad from Finance. Bucky also FINALLY got a haircut lmfao.

A/N: I will just keep posting Step-Dad Bucky content, this doesn't really have set plot, just cute and funny moments while Bucky navigates how to be a Dad.

The Night Before the Party

You were busy setting up the last of the birthday decorations when you heard the front door open. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then Lucas came sprinting into the living room, eyes wide, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Mom!” he shouted, excitement and shock mixed in his voice. “Bucky’s back, and... uh, something’s wrong with him!”

You raised an eyebrow, turning toward the door just as Bucky strolled in, a smirk playing on his lips. You froze, your hands still holding the banner you were about to hang up.

Bucky had chopped his hair. Gone were the long, unruly locks he’d been hiding behind for months, replaced by a clean, short trim that made him look—well, if you were being honest—like he’d just walked off the set of a cologne commercial. Looking absolutely handsome.

“Wow, look at you. All... polished.” You blinked, trying to suppress a grin.

Before Bucky could respond, Lucas crossed his arms, pacing around him like a tiny detective on the case. “So, Mr. Metal Mop finally decided to join the human race, huh?”

“Really, Lucas?” Bucky sighed.

“Oh yeah. You’re like a whole new person,” Lucas continued, squinting at him. “Seriously, who are you, and what have you done with the walking disaster that usually lives here?”

You let out a snort of laughter as Bucky’s jaw twitched. “It’s just a haircut, kid.”

Lucas tilted his head, eyes narrowed as he pointed dramatically at Bucky’s head. “This? This is not just a haircut. This is a ‘I’m about to show everyone I’m the coolest guy at this party’ haircut.”

“What? No, it’s not! I’m not trying to show off.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, smirking like a seasoned detective who’d just cracked the case wide open. “Oh really? ‘Cause you didn’t care about looking like a caveman until now, right before my party. Coincidence? I think not.”

“I just felt like a change, alright? This has nothing to do with the party. I’m not trying to outshine anyone.” Bucky crossed his arms, standing taller, trying to play it cool.

Lucas grinned wider. “Uh-huh. Sure. So, you just happened to get a haircut right before a big event? Not competitive at all?”

Bucky groaned, clearly trying to keep his cool. “I’m not trying to compete with anybody. I just thought I’d make things... easier for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right. Easier. You know, if you wanted to look good for once, you could’ve just said so.” Lucas snorted, shaking his head.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as he quickly looked to you for backup, but you were too busy laughing to jump in.

Lucas leaned in dramatically, whispering, “You can relax, Bucky. We all know Mom doesn’t love you for your looks.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your sides as Bucky stared at Lucas, half-amused, half-offended.

“I’m not—,” Bucky started, running his hand over his hair again. “It’s just a haircut!”

“Oh, sure,” Lucas said, stepping closer, his face serious but his eyes full of mischief. “So it has nothing to do with the fact that Patrick’s gonna be here tomorrow? You’re not trying to look cooler than him? You know he works out, right?”

Bucky frowned, looking genuinely puzzled. “Patrick works out?”

Lucas shrugged. “Yup. I heard him mention it once. But hey, at least now you look like you can keep up.”

“Please. I don’t need a haircut to keep up with your Dad.” Bucky crossed his arms and scoffed.

Lucas smirked, still circling him. “Mmhmm. That’s why you’re all cleaned up—so you can make sure nobody at the party outshines you.”

You were practically doubled over at this point, tears streaming down your face from laughter.

“I’m not competing with anybody!” Bucky insisted, throwing his hands up.

“Right, because getting a ‘too cool for school’ haircut right before the party is totally not competitive.” Lucas grinned wider, seeing that he had Bucky cornered.

Bucky clenched his jaw, still trying to hold his ground. “This is a tactical haircut. Streamlined. It’s practical.”

Lucas grinned, clearly not buying it. “Oh, tactical, huh? Right. Is that what you’re gonna tell everyone tomorrow? ‘Hey, check out my tactical haircut. You like?’”

Bucky chuckles and points at Lucas, “Okay, that’s it. You’re done.”

Without warning, he lunged forward, scooping Lucas up and flipping him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Lucas squealed, laughing uncontrollably. “Bucky! Put me down!”

“Oh no,” Bucky said, shaking his head as he carried Lucas toward the couch. “You’re gonna sit here and think about your life choices.”

Lucas, still flailing and laughing, managed to gasp, “At least I didn’t need a haircut to look cool!”

Bucky plopped him down onto the couch, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re gonna pay for this tomorrow, kid. You just wait.”

Lucas grinned up at him, still breathless from laughing. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, give me a tactical timeout?”

“Unbelievable. You’re supposed to be on my side here.” Bucky glanced at you, exasperated but unable to hide his smile.

You finally managed to calm down enough to speak. “Oh no, I’m staying out of this. Lucas is absolutely right.”

Lucas beamed with pride as he gave you a thumbs-up. “See? Mom knows what’s up.”

Bucky groaned again, dropping down onto the couch beside Lucas. “Alright, fine. Have your fun tonight. Tomorrow, though, I’m stealing all your cake.”

Lucas gasped, feigning horror. “Not the cake!”

Bucky grinned, leaning back. “Oh yeah. Tactical move.”

× × × ×

The birthday party was in full swing, with kids running around, balloons everywhere, and Lucas at the center of it all. You were watching from a distance, laughing softly as Bucky awkwardly navigated the chaos. He was holding a cupcake in one hand, clearly out of his element, but smiling nonetheless. Everything was going smoothly.

The Avengers were scattered around, trying their best to blend in. Clint was at the snack table, sampling every kind of chip he could get his hands on. Tony was in full I’ve-paid-for-everything-here mode, handing out goodie bags like they were shares in Stark Industries. Nat and Steve were casually watching the kids play, exchanging side glances, while Sam was trying (and failing) to explain some complex game rules to a group of seven-year-olds.

Everything seemed perfect.

Until he arrived.

“Uh, hey,” Bucky muttered to you, nodding toward the door. “That’s, uh… him, right?”

You turned to see Lucas’ dad, Patrick, making his way into the party, looking a bit too put-together for a kids’ birthday—pressed suit, perfectly styled hair, and an aura of someone who had just closed a very important deal five minutes before arriving.

“Yep. That’s Patrick,” you said, trying not to laugh at the grimace on Bucky’s face.

Patrick spotted Lucas and waved. “Hey, buddy! Happy Birthday!” He strode over confidently, handing Lucas a brightly wrapped present.

Lucas opened it, pulling out a brand-new Nintendo Switch. He looked up at his dad and gave a polite smile. “Uh, thanks, Patrick.”

Bucky, still watching from a few feet away, cocked his head. “Why’s he callin’ him Patrick?”

You shrugged, whispering, “Lucas just started calling him that on his own. I think it confuses him.”

Patrick glanced over, finally noticing you and Bucky standing there. He smiled—though it was more of a tight-lipped one—and made his way over, extending his hand to Bucky.

“Hi, I’m Patrick. Lucas’ father,” he said, with an air of someone who’s used to introductions being brief and businesslike.

Bucky hesitated for half a second, staring at Patrick’s perfectly manicured hand like it might explode. Then he awkwardly wiped his own hand on his jeans before shaking it.

“Bucky. You know, the boyfriend.”

The words hung in the air like an awkward mist. Patrick’s smile twitched. “Ah, yes. The… boyfriend. Great to meet you.”

They stood there, shaking hands for what felt like five or ten seconds too long, neither one letting go, each one’s grip tightening ever so slightly. You watched from the side, holding back a laugh as the tension built.

Finally, Patrick cleared his throat and let go. “So, uh, how’s the party going?”

Bucky shrugged. “Good. You know, kids. Loud. Messy. Chaos.”

Patrick nodded, chuckling awkwardly. “Ah, yeah. Well, you know, in finance, things are a bit more... orderly.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Finance, huh? That sounds... fun.”

Patrick straightened his posture, clearly missing the sarcasm. “Oh, it’s very rewarding. Numbers, investments... making sure the market flows smoothly.”

Bucky blinked. “Yeah, I bet. I usually just stop markets by throwing people out windows.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Patrick stared at Bucky, unsure if that was a joke or a confession.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand. “So, how about that gift?” you asked, trying to change the subject. “Lucas, do you like it?”

Lucas, who had wandered over to Bucky’s side, gave a polite nod. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

Patrick smiled, clearly not noticing how forced Lucas’s enthusiasm was. “Glad you like it, buddy.”

As Patrick turned to talk to one of the other parents, Bucky crouched down next to Lucas and whispered, “Hey, what’s up, buddy? You don’t seem that excited.”

Lucas looked up at Bucky and sighed. “I already have a Switch. He bought me one for my 6th birthday. He just… forgot.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, glancing between Lucas and Patrick, who was fidgeting with his phone. “Ah. I see.”

Patrick, overhearing, laughed nervously. “Well, uh, you can never have too many Switches, right?”

Bucky stood up, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Yeah. Or, you know, you could... I dunno, maybe remember what you got your kid for his birthday last year.”

Patrick blinked, clearly not sure whether Bucky was joking or not. “Well, you know, with finance and all... numbers just blur together sometimes. I have a lot on my plate.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Right. Numbers blur. Must be hard to forget when you’re counting millions.” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

Patrick chuckled, but it was the kind of chuckle people do when they’re uncomfortable. “Yeah, well… finance life.”

Bucky gave him a pointed look. “Yeah, but I bet remembering your kid’s birthday gifts doesn’t really blur with anything, does it?”

Patrick looked away, clearly flustered, mumbling something about "busyness" as he shifted awkwardly in his suit.

From the other side of the party, you could see Clint and Tony watching the exchange with amusement, whispering something to each other while Steve shook his head at the spectacle. Nat gave a sly smile in your direction, clearly picking up on the tension, while Sam made a “yikes” face, pretending to zip his lips as if to say, Yup, this is awkward.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer, and you let out a snort of laughter, patting Bucky on the arm. “Well, Lucas, now you can... switch between your Switches?”

Lucas looked up, a confused smile on his face, while Bucky chuckled softly under his breath. Patrick, however, just stood there, looking like he wished the earth would swallow him whole.

Patrick, cleared his throat and forced a smile. “So, Bucky, what did you get Lucas for his birthday?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing at you for a second before smirking. “Oh, I didn’t go the ‘two-of-the-same-gift’ route,” he teased, earning a snicker from you.

Patrick’s forced smile faltered slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Right, but I’m sure you got him something nice.”

Bucky gave a nod, gesturing toward the corner of the room. “Got him a custom-built bow and arrow set.” He paused for effect. “You know, something a little more memorable.”

Patrick blinked, clearly caught off guard. “A… bow and arrow? For a seven-year-old?”

Bucky crossed his arms, still smirking. “Hey, I’ve got a friend who’s pretty good with those. Thought it might be a good skill to have. Besides, Lucas loved it.”

Patrick glanced over at Lucas, who was currently showing the bow set to Clint, who was eagerly demonstrating how to hold it properly. Lucas was grinning from ear to ear.

Patrick, trying to recover, chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I’m sure the Nintendo Switch will still get plenty of use.”

Bucky leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough so only Patrick could hear, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, if Lucas forgets he already has one.”

Patrick's smile tightened again as he awkwardly laughed, clearly regretting asking.

From the sidelines, you could see Tony and Sam observing the whole interaction with raised eyebrows. Tony leaned over to Sam, whispering, 

“I’m giving this five minutes before Finance Dad taps out.” 

Sam grinned, nodding in agreement.

× × × ×

The birthday cake was finally brought out, candles lit, and the room filled with the excited chatter of kids and adults alike. Lucas stood proudly at the center, his face glowing in the soft flicker of the seven candles. Everyone gathered around the table, cheering him on.

"Alright, everyone!" you called out, smiling down at Lucas. "On three! One… two… three! Make a wish, Lucas!"

Lucas squeezed his eyes shut and puffed out his cheeks before blowing out all seven candles in one swift breath. The room erupted into cheers, and you bent down to kiss the top of his head.

Just as the cheers started to die down, someone in the crowd—most likely Tony—yelled out, “Time for a family picture!”

The laughter and chatter quieted as you, Lucas, and Bucky moved toward the cake, ready for the photo. But, just as Bucky stepped up beside Lucas, Patrick appeared at the other side, standing just as close.

Both Bucky and Patrick froze, their eyes locking in an awkward stand-off. Neither moved, both unsure of what the protocol was in this moment. Patrick chuckled nervously, shifting on his feet.

“So… family picture, huh?” Patrick said with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

“Yeah. Family picture,” Bucky replied, his tone flat, clearly unimpressed.

The two men stood on either side of Lucas, staring at each other, neither willing to give up the spot closest to the boy. Lucas, meanwhile, was too focused on choosing the biggest slice of cake to notice the tension brewing between the two.

Clint, who had been quietly observing the whole thing from the side, leaned over to Natasha and whispered, just loud enough to be heard by others, “Looks like someone's gotta blink first.”

Natasha smirked but said nothing, her eyes fixed on the scene in front of her.

Sensing the growing awkwardness, you tried to step in. “Um, you know what, why don’t we take a couple of pictures? That way, everyone gets in,” you suggested, hoping to break the standoff.

But neither Bucky nor Patrick moved. Instead, they both shuffled even closer to Lucas, determined to be the one standing right beside him. Patrick forced a smile, trying to mask his discomfort.

“Well, I mean... I’m his dad, so...” Patrick began, his voice light but strained.

“And I’m here every day,” Bucky shot back, his voice deadpan, arms crossing as if he was daring Patrick to push further.

They stared at each other, tension hanging in the air, both waiting for the other to step back. By now, the Avengers had all noticed. From the other side of the room, Tony leaned over to Sam, his voice a stage whisper that was impossible to miss.

“Who’s taking bets? This is about to get good,” Tony said, grinning.

Sam chuckled. “Ten bucks on Bucky. He’s got that murder stare locked and loaded.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, stepping forward before things got any more awkward. 

“Alright,” you said, laying down the final word. “Bucky, you can be in this one. Patrick, you’ll be in the next one.”

Both men blinked in surprise, caught off guard by your no-nonsense tone. Bucky gave a small, smug smile and slipped into place beside Lucas, casually throwing his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

Patrick nodded stiffly, his smile tight and forced. “Sounds fair.”

“Great,” Tony clapped his hands dramatically, clearly reveling in the tension. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. Everyone say ‘awkward’!”

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, Bucky’s subtle triumphant grin beside Lucas, while Patrick stood to the side, looking like he was mentally calculating how soon he could make a polite exit.

[meyerlansky]

WIP wednesday! and also bucky wucky wednesday 😉

have some of the free-use prompt for ktober day 30, spinning off of this post and the comments therein:

“Couple'a ground rules,” Major Cleven says when Rosie’s mouth drops open. Not that he was planning on saying anything himself, not when his head’s spinning, do they mean what I think they mean, but they can't, that’d be crazy—“You’re just havin’ some fun. No obligation later. Got it?”

He might be starting to. Crazy as it seems. “Yes sir.”

Cleven doesn't tell him to drop the title. Rosie wouldn't even if he did, not with Cleven looking at him like he’s waiting to see if Rosie can measure up, and won't be surprised if he can't. “John’s in control.” Rosie catches Major Egan’s eye roll at that, but he doesn't interject. “He tells you no, you're done. He tells you no and you push—”

“I wouldn't,” Rosie says, vehement, same time as Egan says, “Come on, Buck, you're gonna scare him off.”

“If he can't take it, he doesn't get to play,” Cleven says, still blank except for the appraising glint in his eyes.

Biddick leans forward in his seat, no trace of the impish humor that lurks in his expression most of the time there now. “He can take it. Can’t’cha, Rosenthal?”

Can he? “I—let me get this straight,” he says, and stalls out when Egan snorts a laugh, Biddick’s face splits back into a grin, and the corner of Cleven’s mouth tips up into a smirk. “You’re talkin’ about—”

“Sex,” Biddick says with a nod.

“With me,” Egan tacks on.

“If you follow the rules,” Cleven finishes.

The Hydra, licking its chops. “And the–the tags?” he says, and winces at the stutter, but he’s pretty sure no one can blame him.

“They're your ticket to ride. You hand ‘em over, and we have some fun,” Egan says with a wink and a grin, before he’s leaning back in his seat like the cat who got the cream. “You get 'em back from Buck or Curt first thing after the three days are up.”

[rockscanfly]

Parabellum, Chapter 1: The Gang Probably Needs an HR Department

Arthur hitched Maeve to her post after returning to camp and dropped off the mail with Hosea for later distribution. Looking around, he spied Javier posted up on a log, facing out towards the water with a case of beer at his feet. The other man’s bowler was dipped low over his face, but his attention was clearly fixed on something in the distance as he distractedly twirled one of his knives over his fingers.

Arthur flopped gracelessly onto the log next to Javier, rolling his neck with a loud pop. "Watchu lookin' at?"

Javier shrugged, not so much as glancing at Arthur as he took another sip from the open beer tucked next to his feet. "Just watchin' the show, brother. Watchin’ the show."

Arthur looked around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. No one was fightin', drownin', or hollerin'. Which, come to think of it, was maybe a little out of the ordinary itself. "Show?"

Javier jerked his head forward of their seat, down towards the woodpile at the lakeside edge of camp. "Best one in town."

Arthur squinted, then swallowed, mouth dry. Charles was chopping wood down by the water's edge, bare-chested in the sticky heat. He’d been at it for a while, as evidenced by the copious number of neatly split logs piled at his feet. His skin glistened in the afternoon light, the soft swell of his muscular chest and arms coated in a healthy sheen of sweat.

The heavy muscles of Charles' back bunched as he brought the axe overhead, biceps straining and flexing before he brought it down on another log in a smooth, powerful swing. The dimples above his ass stood-out in shadowed relief as he bent to retrieve and set another log, dark hair sweeping in a beautiful wet tangle over his face.

Arthur adjusted himself on his seat, lazily snagging a beer from the crate. “Almost feels like we should be tippin’ him,” he joked, whistling under his breath.

“You can say that again, brother,” Javier said, absently clinking his beer against Arthur’s own.

“What are you two fools up to?” Sadie asked, walking over from dropping a fistful of dollars and trinkets in the camp collection box.

Arthur offered her a beer, scooting down the log to open space for her to sit. “Sightseeing.”

Sadie took the beer, swigging back half of it in one long pull. She looked down the hill in the direction of Javier and Arthur’s gazes, spotting Charles.

“Whew,” she said, biting her lip as Charles effortlessly split another log. “Couldn’t knock him over with a pail fulla water.”

Javier and Arthur nodded. Arthur’s fingers itched to sketch the scene in his journal, but it was too pretty a picture to look away from.

Sadie nudged Arthur’s shoulder with her hip. “So, you two just gonna look, or you gonna do something about all that?”

Arthur’s cheeks grew hot. Next to him, Javier choked on his beer, knife dropping to the dirt.

“I’m good over here,” Arthur muttered, pulling his hat down over his burning ears.

Sadie snorted. “Never been much for spectatin’, myself,” she said, breezy. She snagged a fresh beer from the crate, passing her half-finished one to Arthur. “You two sit tight.”

Before Arthur could stop her, Sadie sidled down the slope to Charles, casually as you please.

“Charles,” she called, stepping up as he grabbed another log. “Take a break, big man. Brought you a drink.”

Charles paused, setting the axe to the side. Arthur could see his slight smile, surprised but pleased. “Kind of you, Sadie,” he said, accepting the beer.

Sadie put her hand on her hip, giving Charles a rare smile. “You’re the only one of these lazy bastards out here workin’ in the heat of the day,” she said. “Figured hard work should get rewarded.”

Charles chuckled, wiping beads of sweat from his brow as he took a drink. “Well, thank you.”

Sadie waved him off. “Ain’t no trouble,” she said.

As Charles straightened from setting his beer down, Sadie made as if to step past him, then stumbled. “Shit!” she exclaimed, falling forwards. Charles jumped to catch her, stumbling over a split log. They fell together, Charles landing with his back on the ground.

Arthur watched in jealous fascination as Sadie caught herself, hands braced against the thick, glistening muscle of Charles’ chest.

“Whoops,” Sadie said, clenching the solid, slick muscle under her hands. “Clumsy me.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, Charles blinking on the ground while Sadie’s fingers squeezed the plush flesh of Charles’ pecs, his smooth skin dimpling under her finger.

“Umm,” Charles said, finally. “You can, uh. Get up now?”

Sadie shrugged, standing. “If you insist,” she said, reaching down a hand to help pull Charles back up to his feet.

Charles accepted, brushing the seat of his pants free of dirt.

“Gotta say, Charles,” Sadie said, grinning as Charles awkwardly reached for the axe, clearly intent on returning to chopping wood and pretending the last minute had never happened. “You’ve got the nicest set of tits in camp, exceptin’ Karen’s.”

Charles made a strained noise, eyes widening bigger than a field mouse lookin’ straight at a cat. “Thank you?” he squeaked, stepping backward to put the stump between Sadie and him.

Sadie just nodded, smiling beatifically. “Well, don’t let me disturb you,” she said, tipping her hat at Charles and sauntering back up the hill.

Arthur and Javier stared at her, slack-jawed, as she retrieved her beer from Arthur’s limp grip.

“Have a good afternoon, fellas,” she said as she walked over to the ladies’ wagon, whistling cheerfully.

A/N: Javier and Arthur watching Charles chop wood at Clemens Point: Would Sadie, who has bigger balls than the rest of the gang combined: Will (I shouldn't have to say this but obviously it is not actually okay or appropriate to grope your coworkers)

[powderblueblood]

I feel like lacey is going to eventually have a very unfortunate encounter with bleach during her college years and all k can picture is eddies face once they meet again while doing long distance

“have you seen the future yet, madame sosostris?”

“huh?”

“you’re staring so hard i figured i must be part of some prophetic vision.”

“yeah, it’s j—uuuust. different.”

“uh huh.”

“bright! y’know.”

“i know. it’s my hair.”

it was meant to be nico, y’know, it was meant to be debbie harry or—or—or jean harlow, or even edie sedgwick if she had to chop it all off! and maybe she should’ve!

eddie reaches across the booth to touch it, and lacy flinches away.

“oh, i wouldn’t do that. it’s… precariously attached to my scalp.”

instead, it was her, nancy wheeler, whatever volume peroxide, a wish and a prayer and no toner. so it’s yellow. it’s big bird yellow.

she kept telling herself that it was martyrdom, right, that she’d fucked up her hair so nancy (post yet another breakup with jonathan—no, steve—no… jonathan, because he’d just transferred from emerson to california) wouldn’t have to but honestly? she was aching for a change.

and now she’s breaking down in the booth of a shitty boston sports bar that she ordinarily loves.

“i look like an asshole!”

eddie rushes to her side, ever the supportive on-the-phone boyfriend who’s been shocked since the second she picked him up. what a terrible surprise. especially because he looks great, what with that new stubble coming in.

“no, you don’t! if you’d dyed it pink, maybe, but you…” he squeezes her shoulders and tries to ignore the rotting egg smell she and a whole half bottle of obsession by calvin klein couldn’t quite penetrate. eddie barely swallows a snort. “you finally look like you live in a trailer park.”

lacy, tear stained and mouth agape, wails lowly at him before shoving him in the chest. “i’m gonna kill you! i’m gonna choke you with all the hair that fell out in the shower this morning and kill you!”

[chenziee]

Drastic measures

@lawluevents - Day 7: Free day @onepiece-bingo: Fake/Pretend relationship (+ free space because free day so it checks out okay)

Alternate summary: long time no outsider POV

[ Read on AO3 | series ]

—————

When Yamato took a step off of Onigashima’s soil for the first time in twenty years, his heart was beating a mile per second. He was just so excited! Excited for adventure, friendship, and seeing the world. He didn’t even care about the disdain the people of Wano might treat him with considering his lineage—after all, he had Oden’s spirit within him, as well as the help from Luffy and his crew, Momonosuke and the Akazaya samurai, Hiyori, Tama, and all the samurai from the allied forces. People who knew him and accepted him.

He had all this support and connections already, he was prepared for the threats, fearful eyes, and distrustful body language. That was all within expectation and nothing Yamato couldn’t deal with.

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was the heart-eyes, awkward propositions, and weird stares.

To be perfectly honest, he didn’t notice any of it himself at first but once Robin teased him about all his apparent ‘suitors’, it became impossible not to recognise the strange vibes his observation haki was sending him. And soon, it became pretty damn annoying.

At first, Yamato tried to ignore it, then he tried turning people down, he even tried running away! But unfortunately, his height made it impossible to hide even in the crowds of the celebratory, post-battle festival.

Drastic measures had to be taken.

“Someone, please, pretend to be my boyfriend or girlfriend!!” Yamato begged, going so far as to bow to the group of pirates he now called his friends.

A beat of silence passed, only interrupted by Luffy slurping up his soba noodles.

“Sure why not?” Nami agreed then and a wide, happy smile pulled on Yamato’s face as he looked up—only to freeze at the cold, calculating stare Nami was giving him. “I charge by the hour. I do accept payment in treasure but you are the one paying the exchange fee.”

“Stop that!” Usopp snapped, slapping Nami’s shoulder lightly… only to get hit right back.

Yamato made a mental note to never ask Nami for any favours unless he had substantial monetary back up. It didn’t seem like she offered a friends-and-family discounts…

“Sorry, Yamato,” Sanji said, not even looking up from where he was chopping up vegetables inside his Special Soba stall. “I’d do it but my hands are full.”

“You just want to fawn over the girls that flock around here. Seconds.” Zoro snorted before he held out his empty soba bowl expectantly.

“What did you say, Marimo?!” Sanji snapped, baring his teeth—yet he still grabbed Zoro’s bowl immediately, refilling it up carefully.

Giving up on that front as the two continued to bicker, Yamato’s eyes turned pleadingly to the remaining two of the group. However, before he could so much as open his mouth, Trafalgar Law interrupted him.

“You couldn’t pay me enough,” he declared flatly; asshole looked Yamato dead in the eyes when he said it too.

“Torao, are you gonna finish that?” Luffy asked, leaning over Law’s shoulder with a hungry look in his eyes as he stared at the bowl in Law’s lap, to which Law wordlessly handed his soba over with something of a small smile on his lips.

Yamato clicked his tongue, an unhappy frown making its way to his face. Why did none of these people even bother thinking about it for a second? Hell, half of them didn’t even seem like they heard him begging. But he was desperate here! Maybe he should go ask Robin—no wait, she was on a date with Franky. Jinbe? He would probably feel like he was being put on the spot…

It wasn’t like he could go ask Hiyori when she was performing either! 

Argh, where was Kiku when you needed her?! He was sure she would agree to help him…

With a sigh, Yamato threw his hands up in the air before he turned around, ready to leave and beg someone else—or come up with another plan. It couldn’t be so hard to pretend he’s a child or something right?

“Yamao! Wait, I’m coming with you!”

Yamato perked up at Luffy’s call, a gasp escaping him as a wide smile spread on his lips and he whipped his head around, looking at Luffy with hope. 

“Just give me a second!” Luffy added, quickly raising Law’s bowl to his lips and gulping down what broth remained inside before handing it back to its owner with a bright grin and thanks.

Law only rolled his eyes but Yamato couldn’t help but notice the small smile was still there when he responded with a simple, “Yeah, yeah.”. 

Somehow… Yamato felt like that was an expression that he had only ever seen Law wear when looking at Luffy. But what did he know? Maybe it was just a coincidence—after all, Yamato barely knew the man; he spent way more time with the Straw Hats and the Kozuki clan while waiting for Luffy and Zoro to wake up than any of the other pirates.

Deciding not to dwell on it, Yamato simply grinned when Luffy jumped up from his chair, taking off before Luffy could get ahead.

“Let’s go!!”

—————

Yamato didn’t remember the last time he had this much fun. Honestly… probably never.

He had amazing fun with Ace four years ago, but drinking and sharing stories by a bonfire was a much different kind of fun to watching Luffy break three fish scoops in a row before giving up and trying to grab the fish with his bare hands. Which didn’t even work, by the way, not to mention the both of them got a life-time ban on goldfish scooping for ‘traumatising the goldfish’, whatever that meant.

Yamato didn’t remember the last time he ate this much food either; after years and years and years of surviving on leftovers and stolen scraps, it was almost overwhelming having this much of a choice! But with Luffy next to him, well… he didn’t have time to think about that. Not unless he wanted there to be nothing left for him.

“What’s up with your body?!” Yamato asked with a laugh, watching Luffy’s giant stomach deflate at an unbelievable pace as his body digested the insane amount of food he had eaten in the past hour.

The two of them were taking a break on the sidelines along with Chopper, whom they met twenty minutes before at the cotton candy stand. The festival was still going strong, laughter and music present in all corners of the Flower Capital while people celebrated—celebrated the freedom that came with the fall of Orochi’s long rule, celebrated the first dawn in twenty years.

Yamato understood; he shared their feelings, their happiness, relief, and excitement.

He almost felt like he was bursting with it. And with the food in his stomach.

“Why does everyone always say that? Everyone eats and then digests,” Luffy said with a pout. “Torao even said he’ll experiment on me one of these days!”

“Your metabolism is not normal, Luffy! I told you this! Multiple times!” Chopper snapped, before he sighed, his head dropping back to the ground where it was before. “Ah, I can’t even get mad. I’m so full.”

Easy laughter bubbled out of Yamato’s chest. “I love you guys!” Yamato announced, earning himself two blank, perfectly confused looks.

“Eh?” Chopper barely let out.

“Yeah, what brought that on?” Luffy asked with a frown on his face.

Yamato grinned at them, shaking his head. “Nothing, I just wanted to say it. I’ve been having so much fun. Thanks.”

“You—you saying that won’t make me happy!” Chopped cried, waving his hands in front of himself awkwardly as if he could physically push Yamato’s words away.

Luffy, on the other hand, only laughed back. “No problem. Man, I didn’t know dates were so much fun! I need to take Torao on one.”

Yamato blinked. “Wait what?”

Now it was Luffy’s turn to blink. He turned his head to the side, staring up at Yamato with those big, innocent eyes that clearly said that he had absolutely no clue what the fuck Yamato was confused about. “Huh?” he only hummed questioningly.

“Luffy, are you dating Trafalgar Law?!” Yamato asked accusingly.

“Well yeah!” Luffy snorted, soon laughing outright and Yamato wasn’t sure whether he was laughing at him for not realising, or if he was laughing just because he was happy. “He is my soulmate, you know.”

“He’s your what?!”

Tilting their heads to the side, Luffy and Chopper exchanged a glance before they simultaneously looked back at Yamato. “You didn’t know?” they asked at the same time.

“No! I—” Yamato started talking but then he stopped.

Suddenly, he remembered the strange, soft look of Law’s that seemed to only be reserved for Luffy. He remembered the way Luffy would wordlessly steal all Law’s bread off his plate without the other pirate even blinking or protesting. He remembered the way Law let Luffy hang onto him or do things that only his bear seemed to be able to get away with.

And he remembered the two of them shared a room in the Shogun’s castle during their stay.

…no, Yamato wasn’t suddenly feeling incredibly slow and stupid. Nope. Not at all.

Never. 

“Wait, you agreed to go on a date with me while your soulmate was right there?!” Yamato cried in alarm, looking around in panic as if a jealous lover might appear right behind him with sword unsheathed and ready to take his head like some vengeful spirit.

Luffy, however, only laughed. “Eh, if Torao minded, he would have said so.”

Yamato wasn’t convinced… but he decided that was a problem for later.

Now, Luffy was already getting to his feet, offering Yamato a hand to help him stand up as well, and a grin spread on Yamato’s lips.

What festival game would they get banned from next?

He couldn’t wait to find out.

—————

“Torao, you sure you’re okay with this?” Usopp asked uncertainly, watching as the two menaces ran past them with Chopper in tow, all three of them laughing like idiots while they ran away from some poor stall owner who was shouting profanities at them.

Usopp wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that was about.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Torao asked back, raising an eyebrow.

“Because,” Usopp said slowly, gesturing vaguely with his hands, “your soulmate agreed to be someone else’s boyfriend.”

If at all possible, Law’s eyebrows shot up even higher. He stared at Usopp blankly for so long that Usopp was starting to feel kind of uncomfortable until he finally turned away, only to then stare pointedly at where Luffy and Yamato were now physically fighting over the last candied apple at the next stall—the very apple that Chopper happily got for himself while the two of them were busy literally biting each other.

“Is that really something I should be worried about?” There was something between disgust, resignation, and amusement in his voice as he said that and Usopp honestly couldn’t say anything to antagonise him.

Because Torao was right; that was the least date-like date that he ever had the misfortune to witness.

But, if nothing else, Usopp was sure it worked for the purpose Yamato had intended at least; it definitely didn’t convince anyone that he was taken, but it was sure as hell working on making even Usopp not want to come anywhere close to where Straw Hat Luffy and Son of Kaido were hard at work at destroying public and private property alike.

If this was what sailing with Yamato was going to be like…

Usopp really worried for the Sunny’s safety.

[thoughtsandbones]

How do you like 'em Onions?

Inspired by that post I saw of Ghost chopping onions from @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

Ghost looked down at the variation of onions that sat before him in various brown baskets at the supermarket.

How many types of onions...? He thought as he looked at the assortment of onions, different colours and shapes. He scanned the labels; shallots, white onion, red onion, spring onion, sweet onion, yellow onion... potato onion? He read one label and raised his brow. Ghost had always thought there was just one type of onion. Like there was one type of potato. (who's gonna tell him he's wrong...)

With his bare hands, he picked up two of each from the baskets and placed them in their food bags and took them to the checkout.

The lady behind the counter scanned the onions, giving Ghost an odd look as she passed them down the belt to where he stood, putting them in his shopping bag. He stared back plainly.

Was it the onions. Or was it him? he thought

"That's £7.68" The lady said "Cash or card"

"Cash" Ghost said, giving the lady a ten pound note.

With his change and onions in tow, Ghost left the supermarket and made his way back home.

Looking back, he wasn't sure how it started... This obsession with cutting onions.

But here he was, Monday afternoon, a bag filled with an array of onions on his way back to base. Everyone has their weird obsessions... This was his.

It started when Price was making fajitas, and chopping onions in the mini kitchen of the break room they shared. When Ghost walked in his eyes stung and it felt like a million needles where being stuck in them.

"The fuck is goin' on in here?" He said walking over to Price

"Chopping onions for fajitas" Price said as he wiped a few onion tears.

"Why they makin' you cry?" Ghost asked looking at Price, who looked back at his tears ruining is black paint over his eyes.

"Making you tear up too Simon" Price smirked returning to the knife on the board.

Ghost snorted and rubbed his fingers over his eyes, but Price was right. He felt droplets at his tear ducts.

Defeated by a fuckin' vegetable? Ghost thought

And it was from this day that Ghost vowed to never be submitted to the pain of onion tears, he made his new mission to begin chopping onions until his eyes stopped tearing up.

[circle--of--confusion]

Wip Wednesday [Part 2!!!]

Ok I wanted to post another snippet but its from a multichapter christmas fic for later in the year lol. It's so fluffy I'm gonna melt.

Below the cut is Terzo and my OC Amelia discussing Christmas plans. [this one from the chapter "secret satan"]

Some folks in the ministry might say that Amelia puts up her Christmas tree “too early” after Halloween. In their long history, Terzo would always tease her about it every year. When he’d stop by the studio for a quick repair to his cassock, a small quip would leave his lips and in return she’d roll her eyes, remarking that his name is going to the top of her ‘itchy yarn list’. When he found her getting out the boxes of ornaments and décor a few days before Halloween this year, drinking hot chocolate with a mountain of marshmallows, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lightly squeezed; he’s tsking at the glittery sight while he stands behind Amelia, resting his chin on her shoulder. He chuckles to himself, humming.

“Amore mio, it’s too early.” Terzo scoffs.

“I don’t have anything up, caro mio! I’m just getting it ready.” Her voice goes up, beginning her arguments. She gestures to the boxes with her mug.

“Mhm, likely story. I know you very well, Amelia. And I know that the moment the clock strikes midnight on October 31st, you are going to be twitching to get to this glittering siren’s song.” he looks down at the sparkling ornaments and garland, swaying them together. “And I will be chopped liver until all of these boxes are empty.”

Amelia sets down her mug on a nearby table and turns to look at Terzo. “There’s not that much glitter.”

“Tesoro… there’s more glitter in that box than my papal robes and mitre combined.” He shakes his head, smiling. Terzo leans down to kiss her and hums. She tastes like chocolate with a faint hint of mint.

Amelia grins, blushing. “You know how I am about the holidays, amore mio. This shouldn’t come as a surprise. And I love gift giving.” Terzo nods, rising one of his hands to cup her face in his palm. She leans into it, closing her eyes. “And I think my gift for you this year will knock your socks clean off!” Amelia opens her eyes and looks at him with an intense but playful glare.

“I didn’t realize this was a competition.” he removes himself from her and walks to the kitchen. “Any left?” Terzo points to the pot on the stove.

She nods. “You can finish it off. I’ve already had a couple mugs of it.” he begins to prepare the last serving of hot chocolate while Amelia makes her way over. “Are you going to participate in my Secret Satan this year?”

“Secret Satan?”

She nods. “Yes. Like secret Santa, but we’re Satanists so… ‘Secret Satan’. I finally have enough people between the three of us in the studio, you, and Copia.” Amelia rocks back and forth on her feet. “We’re decorating the studio once November starts and then we’ll pick names after it’s done.”

Terzo takes a slurpy sip of the hot chocolate, making a show of thinking it all over. “Christmas in a Satanic ministry… why not?” he chuckles. “Of course I’ll do it.”

She smiles, taking the mug from Terzo’s hands, much to his dismay. “I love you.” Amelia hugs him to her, rising to kiss him deeply and he very quickly forgets the drink as their kiss quickly grows in intensity. Her hand snakes it’s way up to brush through his hair, gripping slightly, earning an appreciative rumble from Terzo’s chest.

His lips press a path down to the crook of her neck and Terzo sucks lightly on the soft, sensitive skin. She shudders and lets out a breathy laugh when Terzo pushes her against the counter’s edge. He pulls back for breath and Amelia whines, frowning with her eyes still closed. “Want to finish this in the bedroom? We can be naughty and nice.”

Amelia snorts, taking his hand and walking them to his room. “So cheesy.”

Terzo wraps his arms tightly around her and pauses their walk. He kisses her temple, replying in a low voice “You love me, though.”

She nods, humming. “I do.”

----

I have a couple plot lines for this story, one of them being a "secret Satan" plotline lol.

[cannibalcreepers]

Since this site sucks and doesn't make answering large stuff easy gonna post it here. Also thank you, I'm doing ok, just sick as always ------

The fact you thought you could escape was beyond stupid, though you used the cover of your captives being distracted by other victims to make your get away, but these three cannibals were quick in figuring out you had gotten out of the hut. You had only been a captive for just one night, but that single night was horrifying to say the least. Having been strapped to a chair whilst they chopped and sliced up the taxi man who was meant to be taking you to the next town over for a work convention, having taken a wrong turn on the road the both of you had ended up being hunted and captured by three large and hideous men. You hadn't been injured badly, other than an arrow injury to your left shoulder and a few scrapes from running through branches and falling on rocks, the man who had grabbed you, the one-eyed man, had been weirdly gentle when carrying you around and tying you up, always leaning in close to your face to stare at you with that murky blue eye, prodding at your chest and ribs with his grubby sausage finger. The taxi man though, whose name you hadn't bothered to remember which at the time you felt guilt about, but when he ran off like a coward that caused you to get caught, that guilt flew away as fast as his feet left the ground when he got shot by the largest man of the group. Finding out that these men were cannibals was more horrifying than thinking they were just insane killers, thinking you'd just be killed, you instead ended up strapped up and faced watching them cook up another human being. The third man, who was much smaller and almost gremlin-like with his long hooked nose, jittery, giggle personality and what looked to be his fingers formed together to create three larger digits, was the one who seemed to take control on the whole cooking aspect, the largest cutting up pieces and handing them over for the smaller to put in the pot while the middle-sized one, the one-eyed man, always hovering around you like some curious, dirty dog. Didn't help he snorted and smelt like one. How could the night get any worse, you'd think, as though your stomach thought your body wasn't already going through the hell of fear it made a loud grumble noise, reminding you that you had not eaten since before getting in the taxi and the grumble didn't go unheard as the pointy-nosed man snapped his head to look at you, tilting his head with a disturbingly sneering grin forming on his mouth. Perfect, you would be his taste tester! After all you were hungry and what kind of host were they if they did not provide? You let out a yell and protested by trying to hold your mouth close, but the large hands of the biggest cannibal forced your jaw to painfully open up as a spoonful of soup and meat was shoved into you mouth. The soup was so hot and nastily bland, the meat a bit too chewy still as your mouth was being covered up to prevent you from spitting it out, you could feel the bile of vomit in your throat shoot up and then back down again when you swallowed everything as the tightening of the palm over your mouth and nose was a fear that this man was going to suffocate you to death if you didn't just swallow. You really didn't sleep much, maybe twenty minutes here and thirty minutes there, being awoken every time you felt your head droop or a sharp, loud snore that came from one of the cannibal men.

You felt like a zombie by the time the sun came up, your eyes crusty and sore, a headache creeping over your skull making your skin feel painfully tight. You were about to close your eyes again when the sound of a small explosion could be heard, causing both you and the three men to jump in confusion. It was a blur with how fast they were getting out of their hut, straining your ears to hear anything but there was only their grunts and mutters before the revving of their truck starting and chuttling off, they had left you alone. They had left you alone! Your eyes looked around wildly for anything to get you out and oh boy those three idiots should have cleaned up after cooking cause right at the edge of the table was a knife. It was a struggle as your body ached from each push to move the chair, using your mouth to grab the edge of the knife handle, clamping your teeth down hard as you cut the rope from one wrist and finally freeing it to release the other. You didn't know how long it took, unsure if seconds or minutes had passed by but you were trying to be quick at getting the last rope of your ankle and race your way out the front door, stumbling to the dirt ground. Being outside you could see the the path the three men must have driven out of, above the tree line was a thin trail of smoke from whatever exploded, possibly a car? You didn't care, whoever those men were going towards could be the distraction to help you escape. You just started running in one direction, right into the forest, not wanting to take the dirt path in fear that the three might still be on it and you knew you couldn't outrun their truck. You just kept running until your body couldn't take it anymore, stopping by a tree to take a breath, you didn't know where you were, there was nothing but trees all around but surely you'd come across a road eventually. Luck was not on your side, whilst walking through the thick brush your leg pulled against what felt like a wire and a loud crack noise split across the forest making you drop down and cover your ears, which was your only luck for the day as a spiked log swung over your head and smacked against an opposing tree, causing it to fall from the sheer force. From the amount of noise you had created from this trap clearly set by the three cannibals, there was no doubt in your mind that they heard everything and were most likely heading your way. You had to keep moving, unaware on how easy you were to be tracked and how your tracker figured out it was you who was now running through the mountain forest. You were unsure how long you were traveling; too exhausted to run but soon enough you could hear the sound of traffic! You laughed and started to move faster, this was it! Freedom! You could see the rush of cars and trucks going past just ahead of you, you were so close! Yet too far. Sharp, bony hands grabbed the back of your clothes and yanked you into the arms of your cannibal captures. This was it, you were never going to see civilization ever again, you'd never see your friends, your family, you parents. The last thing you will ever see in this horrible world was the cruel sneering men that were very displeased by you trying to escape; even the most gentle of the three looked miffed about you attempting to leave them. Whatever 'kindness' they had showed before was now gone, their faces scrunched up in what seemed to be disgust, betrayal and anger as you blacked out when an axe was raised and thrust down towards your body. You were going to die here.

[darkparablesfan]

The Hawk and the Little Sparrow

Hello- So this is my first post here- so sorry if it's not that great looking. So here is a work of mine- With Hawks with my OC- Risa.

The lively city sounds of Musutafu snuck inside the restaurant’s walls giving much needed background noise for the slow night. There weren't that many customers that night so Risa had some time to prepare for tomorrow. She was listening to some music, humming and singing along as she chopped up vegetables then moved on to preparing the different meats. 

But it was cut short when the restaurant’s bell chimed loudly as the entrance door was opened and chimed again when it was closed. She quickly let go of the knife and ran to the counter.

“ Welcome -” But she couldn’t finish what she was saying as the sight in front of her shocked her. It felt like her heart had fallen into her stomach. 

There he was, number three Hero, Hawks at her door, looking a mess. His jacket was covered in dirt and mud ( at least she hoped it was just mud ). His gaze was almost empty. But he still tried to smile as he looked at the women standing in front of him. 

“ Hey there little-”

With a loud thud the young men collapsed onto the floor. His vision started getting dark, then he heard quick footsteps closing in and Risa calling out his name. 

A few hours later when he woke up he found himself among soft and puffy pillows and a blanket. He quickly pushed himself up which only led to him feeling a strong sting in his chest. When he looked down he saw he wasn’t in his costume anymore. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt that could easily be easily like a tent for him. In several places, his arms were covered with bandages and bandaids. He glanced toward the door as Risa walked in with a tray in her hands as soon as the door opened.

“ Ah, you are awake Keigo!” She smiled at the blond haired man. 

" Yeah, sorry about that." He tilted his head as his hand was placed behind it and scratched it. 

“ You can pay for the cleaning later.” 

“ Oh come on little sparrow.” Keigo whined. 

“ Oh come on, I was just joking!” 

“ I know, I know. Sorry!” 

Risa’s cheek puffed up a bit like a puffer would puff up. 

“ Well, now that you're up, I can tend the wounds on your face.” 

She grabbed the first aid kit box and sat down at the edge of the bed. She put some alcohol on a cotton swab and applied it to Keigo's wound, who jumped back with a loud hiss. 

“ That stinged baby bird!” 

“ Oh shush you! If you keep moving it will take longer. You can swear at me if that helps.” 

“ What? You really think I would cuss at a lady like- Ouch!” 

Within a few minutes, all of Keigo's wounds had been treated. He pouted like a small kid as Risa put away the box and came back with the tray. It was packed with different kinds of food. Almost all of them were his favorites. 

"Wow! You made all of these?”

“ You were sleeping for a while and I guessed you would be hungry.” 

“ You know me too well- It’s dangerous. What if some villain catches you and interrogates you about me?” 

“ I doubt they would care too much about what your favorite food is. And that you keep sleeping with that Endeavour plushie.” 

“ That was low Risa.” 

The young woman let out a laugh that filled the otherwise quiet room. Keigo let out a small snort under his breath then began to eat. Risa just watched him with a content smile on her face. Seeing people enjoying her cooking always made her happy and she felt proud of her work. When Keigo finished he leaned back and patted his stomach.

“ Ah, I feel like I'm gonna explode.” 

“ Hey, there are some crumbs on your face.” Risa leaned closer, gently wiped off the crumbs from his cheek. With her thumb she could feel the soft skin, but it was covered by a band-aid. Seeing him like this. It broke her heart. So many questions swirled in her mind. How did he get these wounds? Did the Commission send him on another secret mission? 

“ Your face will stay that way, little sparrow.” Keigo’s teasing voice shook her out of her thoughts. 

“ Don’t tell me what to do- You are not my dad!” 

“ Yeah, I could never be like him.” He lets out a laugh but just as soon he lets out a yawn “ Ah…I guess I’m still a bit sleepy.” 

“ Alright. Move over.” After she put the tray on a table the brown haired woman kicked off her shoes and took off her socks. She then climbed into the bed and lay next to the Pro Hero. 

Keigo teased her, "Don't you seem a bit too confident?" as he lay down next to her so they would be face to face. 

“ I had a long day as well. So shush.” 

He let out another chuckle. He smiled at her with a faint but genuine smile. 

“ You know you don’t have to do all this for me.” 

"Well, it just so happens that I like helping others. Especially if it’s a reckless Pro Hero who causes me a faint heart attack almost every time I see him.” 

It was true, it wasn’t Keigo's first time fainting in the restaurant but Risa still couldn’t get used to seeing her childhood friend being all beaten up from fights. And that’s just the physical signs. Anytime she tried to get him to open up even more. 

“...Hey.” Risa’s soft voice broke the silence. 

“ Hm?” 

“ Whenever you feel like it, I’m ready to listen, okay?” 

There was no response from either of them. Risa just looked at the blonde man who stared back at her. Keigo turned towards her his arms wrapped around her body. Risa pulled him closer. Keigo’s body felt so much smaller than before. Like a small, delicate doll. The young woman's fingers slipped into his soft hair and gently caressed his head. When she could feel something warm on her clothes she let out a sigh. A sigh of relief. 

She would hold Keigo and keep petting his head even after Keigo fell back asleep. Maybe this hawk was out there to serve others and help them, but this little sparrow was even more determined to take care of him.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Where Billy and Jonathan are settled into the Byers-Hopper home in Hawkins sometime post s4 (but everything’s alright actually)

-

"If you think it's the right move, I'm not gonna stop you."

Jonathan stands in the doorway to the kitchen, camera clutched in his hands as he shifts from one foot to the other. He taps his fingers against the plastic and chews the inside of his cheek.

He doesn't need to look to know that, just on the other side of the wall, their conversation is being listened to. The novelty of suddenly having adult responsibilities hasn't worn off just yet — whenever he and Billy argue, Hopper or Joyce always chime in with advice on how to navigate relationships.

As if they haven't been navigating it just fine by themselves for going on a year and a half now.

Jonathan wants to backtrack and ask Billy what he thinks he should do. Wants to ask him to just give him instructions, straight and to the point. To decide for him.

But Billy has this focused look on his face as he chops vegetables, the one that says that his mind is elsewhere, and Jonathan decides against it. One of the commandments that they agreed on was to never forfeit their own wants and needs for the other. Moreover, to not assume that the other person wants them to forfeit their wants and needs.

Jonathan sighs. Opens his mouth even though every fiber of his being is working against him doing so.

"I really want to," he says. Billy stops chopping for a beat, emphasizing that he's waiting for the but. "But I'll hold off until we can talk more about it. Maybe after work we can go to the drive in or something and just make a whole night of it."

There's a brief moment of anticipation, a second where it seems like everyone under the roof is holding their breath. Like the whole world is holding its breath. Only releasing it when Billy resumes chopping.

"Okay," Billy says.

There's a smile in his tone to match the gentle curve spreading on his lips. Jonathan's face flushes red, and he can't help it — he raises the camera and snaps a picture, earning a snort from the blond.

"Oh yeah, I can tell that's gonna be a keeper," Jonathan muses.

"Quit it," Billy chuckles. "Creep."

Jonathan snaps a few more. Finally lowers the camera when Billy hurls a cucumber slice at him, and the two are giggling as Jonathan steps closer to the counter.

He sets his camera down on the surface and sobers a little as he looks off to the side.

"I know it's hard for you here sometimes," he sighs. "I don't wanna force you to be somewhere you don't wanna be just so I can explore a career opportunity. This work can take me anywhere, and I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not gonna prioritize a job offer over you."

Billy sets the knife down once and for all and splays his hands flat on the counter, leaning against it as he drags his gaze up to meet the brunet’s eyes.

"I don't want you to feel like you can't explore career opportunities here because of me," Billy says.

"I know, baby."

"I mean— hell, it's hard for both of us to stay here sometimes." Billy huffs a laugh and shakes his head, biting his lip thereafter. "But I can't make you leave your hometown just so I can go back to mine. Wouldn't be fair, even if a bunch of fucked up shit has happened to you here. To both of us."

"Well, we could always settle somewhere in the middle, you know. Halfway happy?"

Billy smiles. Leans over the counter and flicks the top button of Jonathan's shirt open, which he'll have to remember to fix before he goes to work.

"Guess we have lots to talk about at the drive in," Billy muses. Hooks his finger in the collar of Jonathan's shirt and pulls him forward until they're able to tilt into a kiss. Then he's pushing him back just when he starts to melt into it. "Now get outta here or you're gonna be late."

"Yes sir."

Jonathan grabs his bag and pulls it over his shoulder, flashing his partner one last smile before he finally leaves the kitchen — and finds everyone staring at him with smug little grins.

His mom has never been good at hiding how she feels, but even Jim looks amused. And forget about Will and Eleven.

Jonathan just flushes deeper and ducks his head until he's safe and out the door.

[notsuchasecret]

Four Idiots Walk Into an Onigiri Shop

#4: One of the challenges I've set up for myself for this year is to take a prompt and turn its original intention on its head. For today's OsaIwa post, I decided to take a line from an NSFW prompt list and make it fluffy and innocent. Though, it did turn more crack-y than fluffy, but oh well. Atsumu is so fun to fuck with.

If Miya Atsumu had one single regret in his life, it would be that he didn't eat Osamu in the womb. If he had two, it was that he had let Osamu and Iwaizumi meet. Of course, both of these regrets were easy to have in hindsight: fetus Atsumu hadn't known what an absolute shit his twin would turn out to be, and the Atsumu who was fresh off his Olympic high hadn't realized that his athletic trainer had the worst taste known to man, but what could he do? Besides murder Osamu and dump his body in the ocean?

"I think you're overreacting, TsumTsum," Bokuto said as they drew near to the door of Osamu's first Onigiri Miya branch. Atsumu just looked balefully up at his friend. Bokuto loved everyone, even that moron Osamu, so it wasn't unsurprising that he didn't see the problem here.

"Nah, it's not an overreaction," Atsumu said. "If I throw him in the ocean, Ma really would skin me. She's got a taxidermist all picked out ta dye my hair dark and stuff me and set me up in her living room so she can pretend she has one nice, quiet son instead of the two she's got."

"Not what I meant, but man, that's dark," Bokuto commented.

"We deserve it," Atsumu said with a shrug. He straightened his shoulders and opened the door.

"Welcome to Oni-- aw, fuck, it's you," Osamu groused.

"Great ta see you too, scrub," Atsumu snipped. Osamu rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Bokkun, nice ta see ya," he said.

"Hi, Miyaasam!" Bokuto chirped. They took their seats at the counter, and Atsumu squinted around suspiciously.

"What're you lookin' for?" Osamu snarled.

"Nothin'," Atsumu said. Osamu rolled his eyes again, but then a smirk began creeping across his face.

"Hey, babe, we got company!" he called over his shoulder. Hardly a moment later, Iwaizumi emerged from the kitchen - which, rude, Osamu never let Atsumu back there! - and smiled at the sight of Atsumu and Bokuto.

"Hey. How're you two recovering? I caught the stream for that last Jackals and Falcons match. Looked brutal."

"You have no idea," Bokuto groaned. "I thought my arms were gonna fall off at that last spike in the second from Aran!"

"Yeah, Aran-kun's a cannon," Osamu laughed. "Hajime, are ya hungry? I just got done with a fresh batch, extra spicy fer ya."

"You're a menace," Iwaizumi laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to Osamu's cheek - gross - and then walked around the counter to sit beside Atsumu.

"Here, scrub, you can have some too," Osamu said, setting out plates for them. "Tryin' a new recipe. Bokkun, got some tarako here fer ya, so ya don't burn yer tongue off."

"You're the best, Miyaasam!" Bokuto crowed, pulling his plate closer to himself. Atsumu rolled his eyes and grabbed an onigiri for himself. He didn't bother asking what was in it— it could be anything from spicy tuna mayo to some horrific combination of half-spoiled ingredients Osamu had lying around to fuck with Atsumu, and there was no way to find out without taking a bite.

This time, it did turn out to be actual food, spicy kimchi and mayo, and something else that Atsumu couldn't quite put his finger on. He hummed, taking a second bite.

"Balance is off," he said with a shrug, then stuffed the rest in his mouth.

"Which way?" Osamu asked. Atsumu hummed, chewing.

"Yer mayo's overpowerin'. Yer goin' fer spice here, right?" Osamu nodded. "If yer tryin' fer the consistency with how much mayo yer puttin' in, ya may wanna chop yer kimchi finer so it'll mix with less. It'll also bring out whatever that extra spice is— chili sauce?"

"Tried it with siracha this time, fer the consistency yer talkin' about. Not the worst idea you've had," Osamu said. He glanced at Iwaizumi and snorted. "Do ya need to use yer safeword, darlin'?" he asked, and Atsumu promptly sprayed the bite he'd just taken all over the counter. "Tsumu, what the fuck?!" Osamu cried.

"You what the fuck?! You can't just say that shit, ya fuck!"

Iwaizumi burst out laughing. He slapped Atsumu on the back as he accepted the glass Osamu held out for him. "I'd hate to see you react to how we actually talk at home," he wheezed once he had taken a long drink.

"I never shoulda let you two meet," Atsumu grumbled. "You were supposed ta be better than this, Iwaizumi-san!"

"I mean. You've met Oikawa. That's my best friend." Iwaizumi just shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "And yeah, Samu, it is too much for me. You'll get me there eventually, though, don't worry."

"I mean, the process is half the fun," Osamu said, and though to any other ear it would've been completely innocuous, Atsumu knew his brother. He knew when Osamu was fucking with him, and when he meant the double entendres that he always claimed Atsumu was reaching too far for. Atsumu rolled his eyes, scooped up Iwaizumi's plate and dumped his own remaining onigiri on it, and walked out the door. He ignored the sound of his brother shouting at him and Iwaizumi and Bokuto laughing. He'd had more than enough of that moron for one day. Really, for his entire life, but...

At the end of the day, Atsumu did love his brother. Which was why he hadn't eaten him in utero, or murdered him and found some way to dispose of him without facing his ma's wrath. Not that the fucker deserved it.

Though. His onigiri was pretty good.

Consolation prize, Atsumu thought to himself, and nodded, munching on one as he waited for the train and plotted his revenge.

[ecurps]

An odd noise echoed from a corridor in the area marked [Assessment Tier 2 -Unmapped- ]. Cartography was only a part-time job, so I decided to detour a little and investigate the sound while making notes for my report later. A sharp right after about ten strides opened to reveal a small room and the source of the odd rattling sound.

It took me a minute to figure out what I was staring at. The thing was tiny; maybe a small jewelry box? But what was making it shake? The little bit of metal and leather I could see was tarnished and cracked. The wood - warped, knots on the sides and top made its shape very irregular; stains like water damage or a poor finish grossly discolored it even more. It finally clicked when the damn thing hissed and snapped its lid at me.

A mimic?? Here?? This floor was too close to the surface for them to spawn?! And why was it so small and beat up? From the information I had access to, mimics that small were in private collections. Some kind of breeding program or alchemy process to keep them a more portable size.

I could not help but sigh heavily. Holstering my mace, I pulled a copper pip from the purse at my neck and knelt; tapping it thrice against my greave and setting it just inside the room. Next I pulled a strip of jerky from my belt, tore a piece off with my teeth and left the other beside the copper pip.

Posting in the tunnel corner, I kept an eye on the mimic and the main path while finishing my report and map section. A few mercs and guild staff passed by; most ignored me but a few waved or checked if I was alright. Gossip was swapped and chops busted, but it was easy to wave them on.

It took less time than expected for the mimic to clatter and shuffle up to my peace offering. The copper was gobbled down immediately. The jerky... took more time. I was stared down while the mimic gnawed at the dried meat. After that too was gone, it had at least stopped shaking. Another copper pip and dried fruit was offered and devoured while I pulled a towel from my pack and set my last bit of bait: a silver pip. It was a hit to my savings, but I considered it worth paying.

Apparently that was more than enough to sway it, as the little mimic shuffled up and threw itself at the silver and towel - as well as into my arms.

****

"It's a runt," Lakosta said flatly. A resident alchemist, her day job involved appraising creatures for disection and brewing first aid products. "A breeder probably dumped it down there or a wild one from below abandoned it. Either way, now you got a mimic whelp on your hands. Since you still have credit, I'll charge you only two silver."

[Only] she says.

"Thanks," I replied, handing her one pip. "Got a delivery for Haath; gonna ask if he's got a book on these while I'm there."

Lakosta snorted. "Bring him a bottle of that bug liquor and he'll give you a personal lecture."

"The man is gonna pickle himself before he manages to become a lich." I could not resist shaking my head and giving an exhasperated laugh.

****

In the last year it had not grown much. After a few molts, what was once a stained and warped box for trinkets had grown to just over two kilos and even regained the legs that had been damaged or eaten. While its carapace and teeth were replaced with stronger, healthier materials; it also did not grow any bigger than the local cats. Surprisingly enough, some of the mercs took a liking to the whelp, quickly treating it like a mascot or pet whenever we were out in town or at the staffing hall.

Others were not so friendly. Several fingers were bitten and at least one hand was made useless in the multiple attempts at taking it.

A rather unexpected boon was not falling prey to other mimics. Around normal containers with metal valuables, it would scuttle about in a way I could only interpret as excitement or joy. Yet upon passing a location known for feral mimics to spawn, it would release a gurgling growl and hiss and nip at me until we left the chamber well behind.

Would be nice if it would stop trying to eat all my money, though.

You were exploring the dungeon when you came across a rare sight. An abandoned mimic whelp. You couldn’t resist the shaking jewelry box. It is now your most faithful companion.

[karmasuna]

— 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿

+ bakugo katsuki. fluff, w/c: 1k  

synopsis: for some reason bakugo keeps on growing out his hair. surely it doesn’t have anything to do with your type with guys, right?

“your hair’s getting pretty long, isn’t it?” you say, passing the hair tie to bakugo.

bakugo scoffs, snatching the elastic from you and tying his hair back before returning his attention back to his phone. “whatever. i’ll cut it when i feel like it.” 

“bet he’s trying to get with the trends,” uraraka comments, squashed between you and the couch armrest, “i mean, don’t most of the biggest celebrities have long-ish hair these days?” 

you hum in realization, mind flitting to your favorite idols. “oh, you’re right. most of the ones i like have long hair. i didn’t even notice.”

the brunette’s eyes go wide at your epiphany, waggling her eyebrows curiously.

“is your type perhaps long haired guys, my dear friend?”

you shrug, pensive. “i’ve ever really thought about it,” you confess. “i don’t exactly have a type, i think, but if you put it that way then i guess that might be true.”

uraraka whoops, nearly whacking you in the face with her arm. “one step closer to getting you a boyfriend!” 

frantically you try to shush her before any of your classmates get to hear even more unwanted information about your nonexistent love life. 

“it’s not like long hair is a must,” you hiss quietly, sneaking a glance at the blonde on the other side of the room. he seems oblivious to your ongoing conversation, much to your relief.  

“ohhh,” the girl mumbles quietly when you turn back to look at her. “i get it now. did you get your awakening because he’s growing his hair out-” 

“stop talking, please stop talking,” you plead, embarrassment flooding through you as you grab a cushion and chuck it at her. she lets out a grunt in pain as it hits her square in the face with pinpoint accuracy.

˚✧₊⁎

bakugo shifts in his seat uncomfortably, glad you’re too caught up in the moment to notice the flush in his cheeks and the fact that he’d caught every word in your conversation. 

˚✧₊⁎

“bakugo, are you growing your hair out?” you ask a week later while you’re preparing dinner, after he shakes his hair out of his eyes for the nth time in the last ten minutes. 

“not really.” 

I\it doesn’t look comfortable to have hair constantly falling into his eyes as he chops the vegetables. your spaghetti won’t burn itself if you leave it to boil on itself for a few minutes, you decide, putting down your spatula and quickly rinsing your hands before making your way over to the blonde.

“bend down a little,” you tell him, beckoning him closer. it’s obvious he has questions about your intent, but with the sauce sizzling away at the stove he really has no choice but to let you quickly do your thing and return back to cooking. 

reaching up, you gather up his bangs and tie it up, careful not to pull too hard and hurt him. he smells nice, you think to yourself, clean from his post-workout shower and filling your head with the scent. 

satisfied with your work, you let go of his hair with a playful flick at the small tail. “all done,” you say proudly, stepping back to let him stand back up. “that feel better?”

bakugo furrows his brows, seemingly unused to having his forehead out in the open. all you get is a small grunt in response before he turns back to the stove.

“you should cut your hair if it’s getting annoying, you know,” you say teasingly, “unless you’re growing it out to impress someone or something. don’t seem like something you’d do though.” 

while you’re busy draining the water from the noodles you don’t notice the way the blonde’s eyes widen ever so slightly at your words. he’s quiet for another moment, mind scrambling to come up with something that won’t make him sound like a straight up creep to you. 

“you think i should cut it off then?” he asks after a while, moving the pan from the heat and coming over to help with dishing the pasta.

“if it’s uncomfortable, yeah,” you muse nonchalantly, “since you look good either way.” 

it takes a few seconds for you to realize what you just said but apparently the boy isn’t as oblivious as you are, giving you a weird side glance.

“i swear i wasn’t trying to hit on you! that’s not what i meant!” you yell frantically after realizing the implications of your words. bakugo doesn’t seem to be convinced, and all you get is an amused snort.

“oh really? that’s a shame,” he shoots back, arm bumping against yours gently as you pass the plate to him. 

“i can’t tell if you’re being serious.” it’s pretty unusual for the blonde to joke around but even more strange for him to be honest about his feelings for once. 

“if you want it to be,” he says quietly, eyeing you carefully for your reaction. 

you can’t stop the silly grin that creeps its way onto your face, giddy at the fact that he’s being so uncharacteristically cute only in front of you. 

“i’m gonna have to think about that,” you say in all mock seriousness. “can’t go making important decisions on an empty stomach.” 

the way you lean into his side in affirmation tells a different story, and he tenses up for a split second before shifting to face you a little more.

“you’re not getting food until i get an answer,” he retorts, hint of a smile evident in his tone. “can’t have you go hungry, yeah?”

“you have a point there. guess i’ll have to say yes then.”

˚✧₊⁎

“how’d you even know i liked long hair on guys?” 

you’re running your fingers through your boyfriend’s freshly cut hair, marveling at how different the length feels. 

“you’re obsessed with those emo mullet boys from that goth group. anyone could figure it out,” he says, unmoving from his position lying on your legs.

“i see,” you say slowly.

“also, round face isn’t exactly the quietest of people.”

“dammit.” 

bakugo laughs at your quiet huff, pressing into your touch as you scratch at his scalp gently. 

“i still think you’re real cute though. you’d be cute even if you were bald.” 

“yeah? wanna test that out?”

“nooo. your hair smells too nice,” you whine, too comfortable to feel embarrassed admitting it. he snorts loudly, pressing a kiss to your palm. 

“whatever you say, angel.”

[cinnaminsvga]

🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady. 

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool. 

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine. 

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning. 

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!” 

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him. 

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not. 

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets. 

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly. 

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched. 

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured. 

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples. 

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant. 

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great. 

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet. 

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first. 

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak! 

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke. 

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly. 

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease. 

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time. 

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. 

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before. 

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

[captainimprobable]

Here’s a very messy first draft of a fic I’m working on! There will be five parts, which I’ll post together on Ao3 once theyre all done.  This is the first part!

I’ll edit this for ao3 but I was too excited about it and wanted to post it here first before I did RIP

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There are many things Luz admits she doesn’t understand.  She can’t figure out how cars work, and she’s not so sure about long division.  But, she thinks, as she watches her girlfriend chop up vegetables in the fading light of the setting sun, some things she does understand.  

“How did you get so good at this?” Luz asks, stepping closer to peer over Amity’s shoulder.  Every cut is perfect, each individual piece almost exactly like the one before.  It makes sense.  It is so Amity.

“Don’t get excited,” Amity warns, tipping the vegetables into a pot of boiling water.  “This is all I know how to cook.  I had a chef growing up.”  She blushes brightly, and Luz grins.  Amity blushing has become one of her Top Five Favorite Things, right under Azura and above Hexside.  

Amity herself, of course, is above them all.

“Sorry,” Amity says sheepishly.  “I didn’t mean to sound spoiled or anything, it’s just- my parents don’t cook, and they don’t have time to-”

“Amity.  It’s fine.”  Luz laughs, and Amity’s blush intensifies.  Luz is about to say something about it when Eda bursts into the room with all the subtlety of a hurricane.  “Look what I foooound,” she sings, proudly presenting something extremely dusty and unidentifiable.  Luz and Amity raise their eyebrows in unison.  

“Uh, what is it?” Luz asks.

“It’s a human-” Eda pauses.  “Okay, I’ll admit, I have absolutely no idea what it is.  But it’s cool looking and I like it.” “Another human treasure? Lemme see!”

“Suit yourself,” Eda says, and hands it over.  

The thing is heavier than Luz expected, and she grunts as she puts it down quickly on the kitchen table.

“Dang, Owl Lady, you’ve got strong arms,” she says.  

“I work out,” Eda responds, flexing her muscles.

Amity and Luz look at each other, and then at Eda.  They blink.

“Fine,” Eda says.  “Buzzkills. I don’t work out. You caught me, congratulations.”  She stalks out of the kitchen, muttering something about “dumb kids and their dumb honesty”.

Luz snorts and turns her attention back to the thing on the counter.  “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” she says, and blows the dust off.  Once the cloud clears, the thing begins to take shape, and Luz squeals.  “A record player! With a record on it!  This is amazing! My mom has one of these back home!”

“Record player?” Amity says.  “What does it do?”

Luz grins, always happy to show off her human knowledge.  “I’ll show you,” she says, and sets the pin on the groove of the record.  It’s silent for a moment, but then a slow tune echoes through the room.  There are no words in the song, and Luz has no idea who wrote it, but she’s in awe.

“Wow,” Amity says, echoing Luz’s thoughts.  “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Luz agrees, completely entranced by the melody.  Once the song fades away and the next one starts, she gets an idea.  She regards Amity out of the corner of her eye, gathers her courage, and says “Amity Blight, may I have this dance?”

Surprise flashes across Amity’s face, but she recovers impressively quickly.

“I thought you’d never ask.”  

She reaches out her hand and Luz takes it, gently guiding Amity to the middle of the kitchen.  Amity hesitantly puts her arm around Luz’s waist, pulling her closer, as Luz puts a hand on Amity’s shoulder.  It feels familiar, and when they start swaying around the kitchen, Amity starts to laugh.

“What? What’s so funny? Did I do something?”

“No, no,” Amity says, tightening her hold around Luz’s waist.  “It’s just...this is so different from our first dance together.”

“Our first...oh, you mean Grom!”

Amity takes a step backwards, and Luz follows, trying not to trip over her own feet.  

“Yes I mean Grom!”

They dance in silence for a moment, moonlight shining through the window.  

“Hey,” Luz starts, not sure if she wants the answer to the question she’s about to ask. “Who did you wanna take to Grom, anyway?”

Amity stares blankly at her for a few seconds, and for a moment Luz is worried she said something out of turn.  But then she smiles softly, so softly that Luz’s heart does a funny thing in her chest, and she’s pretty sure that, for a second, she can’t breathe.

“It was you, Luz,” Amity says quietly.  “It was always you.”

Luz stops dancing.  She stops blinking.  She stops breathing.

“Uh, Luz?” Amity says, sounding worried.  “Are you okay?”

Luz blinks, comes back into herself, and says “YOU WERE GOING TO ASK ME TO GROM????”

“Yes? Why is that a surprise? You know I...like you.” Amity blushes again.  They’re still not used to saying these things out loud to each other.  It’s a process.  

This time, Luz blushes too.  “Yeah, but like..that long??? You’ve liked me since Grom???”

“Since before Grom, actually,” Amity admits, looking down at the floor.  “It’s...it’s been a long time.”

Luz’s grip on Amity’s shoulder slackens, then tightens again.”Wow,” she says, breathless.  “Me.  You’ve liked me for months.  You!!!”

Amity giggles.  “Me,” she agrees.  

Luz knows that the smile on her face is sappy, but she can’t help it.  She just likes Amity so much it’s overwhelming sometimes.  

They begin to sway again, and Luz feels like she’s in a trance.  She can’t believe that one person can make her feel this happy.  It’s like magic.

“So,” Amity says, cutting into Luz’s inner monologue, “When was it for you?”

“Huh?”

“When did you start to like me?”  

Amity manages, with what looks like supreme willpower, not to blush this time.  Luz does not manage the same.

“O-oh,” Luz says, thinking back to all the times she made a fool of herself in front of Amity before they’d started dating.  “I don’t know? I mean, I realized it that time you saved my life, but I think I’ve probably liked you for a lot longer than that. Maybe even before Grom.”

“Which time?”

“What?”

“Which time?  I save your life a lot,” Amity smirks.  Luz rolls her eyes.  “Okay, fair,” she says.  “But I mean that time at your parents’ presentation.  Right after you...when you called me “my Luz.”

“Oh, no, you heard that?” Amity looks extremely embarrassed as she leans forward and hides her face in Luz’s shoulder.  Luz tries not to smell her hair.  She fails.

“Of course I heard that!” She says when she’s done.  “You practically screamed it out loud to a room full of strangers!”

“I did, didn’t I? Wow, I was so obvious!”

Luz rubs the back of her neck sheepishly.  “I didn’t notice.”

“What??? How???” Amity asks, picking her head up to look Luz in the eye.  “I was a complete mess in front of you for months! What did you think was happening?”

Luz shrugs.  “I just thought you were cute, that’s all.  In hindsight, though, maybe I should’ve picked up some context clues.”

Amity snorts.  “It’s okay.  You being oblivious saved me a ton of embarrassment.  Until I kissed you on the cheek.  That..uh….that was not planned.”

Luz can’t stop the smile that takes over her face.  She remembers that day well.  She was so focused on finding Phillip’s diary entries and also not making a fool of herself in front of Amity, that she was taken completely by surprise when Amity kissed her.  She’s pretty sure she literally fell to the floor afterwards, overwhelmed with the fact that Amity had just kissed her and suddenly realizing that maybe, just maybe, her crush liked her too.  

“Well I’m glad you did,” she says gently, twirling Amity around once, twice, three times.  “I think it’s time for me to return the favor.”

“What do you-”

Before she can think about it long enough to stop herself, Luz leans in and kisses Amity on the cheek.  

The world freezes.  

Amity looks at her, and she looks at Amity, and Luz’s eyes are so wide, and Amity’s mouth is hanging slightly open, and suddenly Luz is completely, entirely unsure of herself.  Her confidence is gone, and suddenly she can hear the ghost of laughter and “Ew, why would anyone want her?” And she realizes she’s made a horrible mistake.  

“U-um sorry I-” She stutters, but can’t get a sentence out, until finally she manages “I’m gonna leave now.”

She backs up slowly until her back hits the door, and is about to turn the handle when Amity says “Luz, this is your house.”

“Drat,” Luz says, slapping a hand to her face.  “You’re right.”

Amity giggles, hand covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.  She’s bright red but so is Luz, and suddenly Luz is laughing too.

They laugh together for what seems like hours, until finally they manage to subdue themselves, tears in both their eyes.

“Hey,” Amity says softly, once the giggles have stopped.  “Come here.”

Luz complies, stepping around the table and over Ghost, who has an unidentifiable animal in her mouth.  When she finally reaches Amity, she finds herself pulled into a bone crushing hug.  Startled but pleased, she squeezes back, marvelling at the fact that she has the most perfect girl in the world in her arms.  

“Look,” Amity says, still wrapped up in the hug.  “I know we’re both new at this, and it’s kind of scary, but you don’t have to run away every time you kiss me on the cheek or something.  You have nothing to be afraid of, okay? You’re my girlfriend, and I’m not gonna stop liking you.”

Luz sniffles a little and squeezes harder.  “You don’t...you don’t think I’m too much?”

“Luz,” Amity says.  “I could never get enough of you.”  

They stand there like that, swaying slightly in the single stripe of moonlight that comes through the window.  When they part, it’s with a sigh, and a silent promise that they’ll come together again.  

“Thanks,” Luz says, eyes rimmed red.  “You’re a pretty awesome girlfriend.”

Amity smiles.  “I know.” 

Then she shrugs shyly.  “And if you ever want to kiss me again...I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Noted,” Luz says weakly.  She thinks her knees might give out, actually.

When it’s time for Amity to go, Luz walks her to the door, like the gentleman she is.  “Goodnight,” she says, trying to ignore Hooty loudly digesting a mouse.  She doesn’t want to think about where his stomach even is.

“Goodnight,” Amity says.

They smile dumbly at each other, neither wanting to be the first one to leave.  But Amity needs to get home, and the night is moving quickly, so they reluctantly part ways.  Amity turns to wave at Luz when she reaches the end of the Owl House’s property, and Luz waves back, stars in her eyes and a breathless wonder at the fact that this girl, this amazing, brilliant, perfect girl, is hers.  

There are many things Luz doesn’t understand.  

But this, what she and Amity have, the bond she feels growing stronger and stronger every day they spend together; this she does understand.

She closes the door.  She doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, but she knows that as long as she has Amity by her side, everything will be okay.