#sorry for hopping on the bandwagon here but I do really like complaining about how bad my character is I won't lie to you LOL

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

the thing that really pisses me off about Rensen 8 is that 3 years in that shit is still COMPLETELY AMBIGUOUS ON BLOCK.

You pulled in someone who chicken blocked and want to know the frame advantage? Fuck you. You're either so plus or so minus and we're not telling you which one it is. I used to say that it would be crazy for it to be air unblockable like it used to be but after this long I'm not being reasonable anymore - make it guard crush. Make it plus. Hell make it minus 2 but please. Please make it make sense. Make it consistent. This character has gotten like 5 major buffs and he's still so bad. Give me one grounded plus button. Why the fuck is Chaos' c.S +1 and mine is -1??? I just want to understand.

Rainwater it's just a manual spacing thing; it's annoying only because other characters with a similar tool just get to press the move and it does what it should. Rainwater is helpful it's a good move but it needs a little more fine tuning imo. I don't understand why they gave Ram Ondo and made it +7 but this is only +3. No one is scared of that. That is not enough plus frames. Do I look like Sol Badguy to you I have one of the worst c.S in the game PLEASE help I'm dying out here because the opponent can dashblock.

If they did give him a few buffs in certain areas he'd probably be very solid, which people don't like, but like.... Chaos. Johnny. Bridget is doing this kind of shit but with a DP and insane mix. You can't fool me I know a double standard when I see one. Free my boy he only did some of that.

Whatever though they can make him bottom one and you'll still have to pry my sunshine British puppy dog from my cold dead hands.

I'm complaining about Axl again. Why does this motherfucker have so many blind spots on his moves holy SHIT

Rensen 8 is one of the most irritating moves in the game to me just because it hits 7 miles above Axl's head and is seemingly fucking TRIVIAL to jump out of after a blocked Rensen

Genuinely what the fuck is this shit. Let me catch people who IAD PLEASE.

"You can use rainwater to bait throws" good fucking luck the hitbox for some reason DOESNT HIT UNDER AXL????? HELLO???? You can use it to bait throw at midscreen ig but if you're in the corner and the opponent tries to wakeup throw you it FUCKING WHIFFS???? i still love rainwater and the one vision sideswap combos you can get are extremely swag and cool and fun but pls it has so many flaws

Air snail as well only hits in like a 30° arc in front of Axl so if you try to use it preemptively you better HOPE your opponent is right there in the little zone that it hits in

Love you pookie you're gonna carry me to celestial 😘

[amor-immortalem]

You’re Important to Me

Warnings: thoughts and ideations of the un-aliving variety

Genre: Angst but it gets a lil fluffy at the end

Pairing: Mammon x oc

Summary: The way the witches and his brothers treat him leaves Mammon feeling replaceable and unimportant. His human takes it upon herself to try and make him feel better after finding out something heartbreaking.

A/N: since I hit 150 followers either last night or the day before, I figured I would do something a little different for tonight’s post and give y’all a little 2 part fic instead of art. I haven’t written in a long time and this is not proofread so please excuse any typos. I’m a little rusty.

Part 2| Part 3| Part 4

———————————————————————-

Another day full of studying for upcoming exams at RAD completed and Arella couldn’t be more greatful to finally shut her texts books. Sure, she technically didn’t have to meet the same standards as her demon classmates this time around, but if only one thing could be said about Arella, it was that she was a perfectionist at heart. She’d put in the hard work to get the best possible score- seeing the look of surprise on Satan’s face as she scored better than him would be worth it too, as much as a pipe dream that that would be.

With a soft yawn, Arella pushed away from her desk before grabbing a nightshirt she had stolen borrowed from her boyfriend and stumbled to her bathroom for a quick shower. As she brushed her teeth, she could feel a presence enter her room- well more like she could hear him. Mammon was never all that quiet or stealthy to begin with as much as he’d like to claim otherwise.

Peeking out from the small ensuite, she saw the demon sprawled out on her bed, his face buried in her pillows. Something didn’t feel right. Deciding the shower could wait, Arella made her way across the room to where the bed was located.

��Hey,” She started, gently placing a hand on his back to let him know she was there, “I thought you said you’d be out late with the Witches. Did something happen?”

“Not really….” Mammon starts, his voice muffled by the pillows before he turned to face her. “They got all they could get out of me so they jus’ let me go and I wasn’t havin’ a good time anyway so I jus’ came home….”

Arella frowned at his tone. He sounded upset, depressed almost.

“An’ then the moment I walk in the door, Lucifer’s on my ass ‘bout some stupid fuckin’ bill that came in…. So I got to sit there ‘n listen to him go on an’ on about how I’m such a fuck up and what worthless scum I am, not to mention the rest of my brothers took the first chance they could to hop on the bandwagon and I’m….. I’m just so tired.” At this, Mammon flops over onto his back, throwing an arm over his face.

“Mammon…” Her voice is soft, full of concern as tries unsuccessfully to pull his arm away so she could look him in the eyes.

“Arella, Am I important….?” Mammon asks as he tries -but fails- to hide the way his voice cracks. “Would everyone just be happier if I was….. gone?”

Its that question that shatters her heart to tiny fragments.

“Wha- Of course you are, Love. Why would you say that? I know your brothers take things too far sometimes but they’d be devastated if something happened to you. I would be heartbroken if anything happened to you. We all love you so much, Honey….”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Mammon barked out a laugh that sounded bitter. “Not with the way they rag on me like they do…. Actually, they’d probly be jumpin’ for joy if I were to off myself- don’t know why I ain’t done it already….”

“Mammon, don’t talk like that. You’re scaring me.”

“Its true though. If I take myself out, then they won’t ever have to deal with the consequences when I fuck up. Won’t have to worry ‘bout me stealin’ their shit to get my hands on some extra grimm.

“Stop it right now, please.”

“It’s not like they’d miss me much anyway. You probly would but let’s face it, ya could do so much better than me anyway... Ya know, I got this pills that I swiped the other day, plannin’ ta sell ‘em an’ all but I think-“

“Mammon, stop!” Arella pressed her hands over his mouth to keep him from finishing his sentence “Please. No more….. No…. More.”

She collapsed down to his chest as violent sobs erupted from her. She had lost someone to suicide before, she couldn’t and wouldn’t go through that again- especially not with the person who was most important to her.

“I’m here for you. I will always be here fir you.,” Arella tightened her hold on the demon beneath her, her body still shuddering with each breath she took in a miserable attempt to compose herself. “So please. Please just don’t do it.”

At her tears, the demon could only react with silence. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when letting his feelings out but it wasn’t a reaction like this.

Maybe part of him was hoping for her to agree with him and let her words feed into his terrible mood, or maybe part of him wanted Arella to scold him for daring to even think about taking his own life but there wasn’t any part of him that wanted her to react with sobs and wails, with her begging him not to go through with it.

Slowly, Mammon brought his arms to wrap around her, holding her tight against his chest. They were quiet for a long while as they just held each other.

“I’m….. I’m sorry….” Mammon was the first to speak, to break the silence that had suddenly become suffocating. “I don’t know what I was talking about….”

Arella didn’t reply right away, choosing instead to hold him just a little tighter a bit long.

“Do you feel better now that you’ve talked about what’s going through your mind?” She lifted her head from its place on his chest to look him in the eyes for the first time that night.

She smiled softly as he nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re so important both to your brothers and to me. There’s no one like you in the all of the three realms. If you weren’t here our lives would be so much darker and so much more boring, do you know that?”

“Yeah, I doubt that.”

“No it’s true,” Arella hums, as she pushes his hair back and places a peck to his forehead. “You want to know something else?”

“What?” Mammon arches a brow, “if it’s something cheesy, I’m leaving.”

Arella laughs at that. “I love you more than anything in this life or the next, and, no, you’re staying in here where I can see you.”

“What? C’mon, babe, I won’t do anything stupid, so don’t worry ‘bout me. And the last thing I need is Lucifer gettin’ at me because I spent the night in here when I shoulda been in my room.”

“Then I won’t give you a choice.” She starts matter of factly, “I’m invoking our pact. You’re sleeping in my room tonight where I can keep you close and pamper you all night. Also you’re going to tell me where you’ve hidden those pills you were talking about earlier and if their in one of your safes, you’re going to tell me the combination to it.”

“Arella, I-“ he groaned starting to complain

“No. This is important, Baby. I’m doing this because I care. Not to mention if Lucifer were to somehow find you in possession of those pills….. his rage would be so great that not even I would be able to stand between you two.”

Another moment of silence happened between them as Arella’s orders went into effect. Mammon let out a soft, discontented growl before finally breaking the silence.

“Fiiiiine. They’re in the safe that’s hidden in my pool table. The combination it 0127. Happy?”

“Very.” She replies cheerily. “Now, you’d better get comfortable, sir, because I’m going to remind The Great Mammon just how amazing, how wonderful , how special, and how loved he is.”

“Whatever, you dork, jus’ get off a me so I can move to a better spot.” He huffed as he shifted around under her, trying to hide the faint blush was already threatening to make itself at home of his cheeks.

———————————————————————-

Masterlist 2

[halstudandruz]

Had Me By Halftime

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Based off the song Had Me By Halftime by Morgan Wallen

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I know this game was on a Monday but we’re gonna pretend it wasn’t. Also I know there’s different rules to cornhole, but I did the 21 or bust version for sake of the story.

You were talkin' trash, we were tossin' bags

When I caught your name at a corn hole game

You and your friends had decided to tailgate at the Chicago Bears game. You were in your last semester of college and your group had collectively decided to forego buying tickets. Not wanting nosebleed seats, but knowing your broke college student bank account would not offer many other options. The parking lot was crowded with Bears fans; scattered Minnesota Vikings fans sticking out in the crowd. It was surprisingly warm for a Chicago October. You had just finished a game of flip cup and informed your friends you were going to get food from a nearby food truck, your best friend, Madison tagging along. You hadn’t made it far from your group when you made eye contact with a handsome man. Slowly walking you heard him talking to a man about the same age as him,

“Adam come on!” He exclaimed.

“I am not playing against him, he might as well be a pro.” The brown haired man shook his head.

“Don’t take it out on me cause I’m better than you.” Another good-looking brown-haired man from the group laughed shrugging and throwing an arm around a pretty blonde girl who wasn’t even paying attention to the men, already conversing with a group of girls. The handsome dark skinned man groaned seemingly pouting. Grabbing Madison’s arm you stopped her to pull her over to the group.

“You need a couple players?” You smiled gesturing to the corn hole boards.

“Actually yeah we do.” He nodded.

“Let’s roll.” You challenged taking your place by the board and picking up the orange bean bags. Madison sighed already reading your dirty thoughts about the man as she walked to the board opposite of you and the broad muscled man took his place next to you, gathering the navy blue bags. “Let me just get you a menu cause you’re about to get served.” You joked and luckily he let out an adorable laugh.

“That’s the best you got?” He sported a wide smile causing you to instantly blush.

“Yeah...sorry I’m not the best at trash talking. My game usually speaks for itself.” You shrugged, turning to throw the bean bag on the board Madison stood by. Watching it slide right through the center. Humming he looked at you impressed, gearing up when you threw him a seductive smirk.

“Let the games begin.” He grinned.

The game was close, full of playful banter, and maybe a little flirting from you and the man you now knew was named, Kevin. Luckily you and Madison came out on top thanks to Kevin’s partner’s accidental bust over 21 taking their score back down to 13.

“Ruz, you might want to take up a math class in your spare time.” Kevin teased, knowing he only aimed for the board because of his poor math skills.

“Shut up.” He attempted to throw a bag at him, but it fell short. “I’m never playing this game again.” Adam huffed, walking away.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You shrugged, winking at him.

Said "Girl, where you sitti'g? I got an extra ticket

It's right on the 50"

“Sorry. He gets a little competitive.” Kevin smiled, “Thanks for playing though.” He leaned against the side of a truck crossing his arms. Madison stood awkwardly a couple feet away as you two flirted with each other.

“Thanks for letting us. It was nice to do something other than a drinking game for once.” You chuckled gesturing to where your group was now playing beer pong.

“Where are you guys sitting?” He asked gesturing to the stadium behind him.

“Oh we actually don’t have tickets. Just here to tailgate.” You explained and his smile got slightly bigger.

“Well I actually have an extra ticket. It’s right on the 50 if you want to join me?” He offered.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to just leave my group hanging..” You contemplated looking back at Madison who was nodding quickly mouthing the word “Go!” Sighing you turned back towards him with a smile, “you know what. What the hell why not?” You pushed the tingling of your body deeper down at his happy grin.

You had a 16 home team jersey on

Singin' every word to the fight song

Had your airplane bottles from your purse out

“Okay. I have to ask. Why are you wearing that jersey?” Kevin asked, sitting down beside you.

“Because we’re at...a Bears game?” You looked at him skeptically, causing him to laugh.

“Obviously.. I mean why O’Donnell? I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen someone actually wearing his jersey.” He explained.

“Well I do like to be an outlier,” you joked, “punters never get the credit they should. Same with kickers. They deserve more love.” You answered.

“Good to know you’re not a bandwagon fan.” He said.

“We won one super bowl 35 years ago and we just benched our newly signed QB for a rookie. I don’t think there’s any wagon for someone to hop on.” You retorted.

“You got me there.” He agreed watching you pull a few tiny bottles of alcohol out of your small bag you had strategically hidden to make it past security.

“You a fan of fireball? I hate it but it came with the pack.” You asked, turning to see an amused grin covering his face. “What?”

“How in the hell did you sneak those in here?” He inquired.

“Can’t give away all my secrets on the first date.” You shrugged, wiggling your eyebrows. He took it from your hand nudging Adam who sat on his other side. Adam took it graciously.

“Hell yeah. We’re keeping her!” He exclaimed, twisting the cap off to take the shot.

The first half of the game was rough. Only lucking out with a safety in the first quarter.

“I hope to god Trubisky starts to prove he has more than just a pretty face.” You shook your head preparing yourself for the second half. You and Kevin had talked throughout all of halftime, and you caught him staring with a wide smile more than once as you might’ve got a little too competitive throughout the first and second quarter.

“I could play better defense than his line is. Kev, get down there you know how to tackle people.”

“He does realize he’s supposed to be throwing it to his own team right?”

“Fucking 2 yards isn’t gonna get you anywhere!” Were just a few things you remember spouting off.

“This is ridiculous.” You threw up your hands when Rudolph took it into the Vikings endzone.

With 5:33 left in the 3rd quarter O’Donnell took the field for the punt, but instead to everyone’s surprise the punt is faked and #16 puts up a pass to Cunningham who runs it in for the touchdown. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and down, “No fucking way! That’s my man!” You yelled pulling Kevin in for a hug who was in utter disbelief.

“I cannot believe that just happened.” He laughed, cheering with the crowd. The fans were hyped watching Barth kick it between the posts.

“Believe it baby!

Bear down, Chicago Bears, make every play clear the way to victory;

Bear down, Chicago Bears, put up a fight with a might so fearlessly.

We'll never forget the way you thrilled the nation with your T-formation.

Bear down, Chicago Bears, and let them know why you're wearing the crown.

You're the pride and joy of Illinois, Chicago Bears, bear down.” You sang along loudly to the Bears’ fight song roaring throughout Soldier Field. The second half was much more heated than the first, but unfortunately thanks to a successful kick from Forbath in the last few seconds the Vikings took home the win.

You would've thought that post-game

Kiss would've made me wanna make you mine

But you had me by halftime

Everyone was starting to file out of the stadium, Kevin’s group included.

“You comin?” Adam turned to you both.

“You wanna wait till the crowds disperse a little?” Kevin asked and you smiled nodding.

“We’ll be waiting for you.” Adam winked, a knowing smirk covering his face as he grabbed tightly ahold of Kim’s hand to lead her through the crowd.

“You would’ve had to keep a tight hold on me. I’m small and can get lost easily.” You joked, body frame tiny compared to his broad muscular one.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I do regardless.” Kevin flirted, looping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

“I told you. Punters and kickers, they don’t get enough credit.” You reiterated, “I mean how often does the game come down to a field goal? Too often in my opinion.”

“I can give you kicker I’m not sure about punters though.” He looked at you amused.

“Did you miss that play?” You scoffed.

“And how often does that happen? I’m sure you didn’t buy his jersey banking on that.” He replied.

“Yeah, alright. I just thought O’Donnell was better looking than Barth.” You admitted.

“You really know your football though.” He observed.

“I grew up with three brothers. It just came with the territory.” You explained.

“Three brothers?” He looked over at you, a faint look of fear appearing on his face.

“Yeah, I’m sure you could take any of them though.” You bit your lip squeezing his bicep to get your point across.

“Is that so?” He grinned face inches away from yours.

“Mhmm.” You hummed searching his eyes, begging him to make the move and he did. Closing the distant for a gentle, smooth kiss. His hand caressing your cheek to pull you closer. This is nowhere near what you expected your day to turn into when you got up this morning. You were just supposed to be tailgating with your friends too drunk for your own good. Instead you were seated inside the stadium making out with a guy you had just met this morning. Not that you were complaining, but what were the chances?

“Was that okay?” He asked lips still slightly brushing against yours and as an answer you gripped his face pulling him in for a deep bruising kiss that had him groaning low in his throat. Pulling away to get a breath you looked around to see very few people still seated, a warmth buzzing throughout your body despite the chilly fall air becoming more prominent.

“We better get out of here before we get in trouble.” You whispered. And he nodded tightly clasping your hand in his as you made your way out of the stadium back out into the parking lot.

Now every time the leaves start fallin' down

I get to thinkin' 'bout

5 years later

“Kev, can you check on the pizza while I get Carsyn dressed?” You asked after seeing your daughter stir from her nap on the monitor. Walking in her room you retrieved her from the crib. She was all smiles and giggles. “Well I take it you had a good nap.” You kissed her chubby cheek, attempting to flatten her bed head before laying her on the floor to get her dressed. “Daddy is just gonna be head over heels when he sees you. Not that he isn’t already.” You smiled trying to slide her tights on despite her wiggling legs. Succeedingly picking her up 10 minutes later. “Look who’s awake daddy.” You caught Kevin’s attention as he turned away from the stove to take her from your arms.

“You didn’t.” Kevin laughed, a smile wide on his face when he took his daughter into his arms admiring the outfit she was sporting. A blue tutu accompanied by an orange jersey that repped the #16, outfit topped off with a Chicago Bears bow. “Well don’t you just look adorable. Yes, you take after your mama.” Kevin laid kisses all over her face erupting numerous giggles from her. “Where’d you even find this at?” He asked and you knew what he was talking about without even turning around as you took the pizza out of the oven.

“I had to specially order it as one of those custom name jerseys. Seems they don’t make O’Donnell’s jersey for babies.” You laughed checking on the wings in the air fryer when a knock at the door interrupted. Adam and Kim strolling their way into the kitchen minutes later.

“Where’s my girl?” Adam asked, spotting her in Kevin’s arms. Carsyn immediately reached out for Adam. “There she is and aren’t you just the cutest Bears fan in the whole world?” He tickled her stomach taking in her outfit, “Gotta say [Y/L/N] it looks better on her.” He joked gesturing to your identical jersey.

“Joke all you want this jersey got me a husband.” You leaned up on your tippy toes to lay a kiss on Kevin’s cheek.

The rest of your crew arrived not too much later. Hailey and Jay bringing along their son who was a few months younger than Carsyn. This was now a football season tradition and you loved every minute of it.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @grettiwrites @inlovewith3 @wanniiieeee

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | THE EMPEROR INTERLUDE

First time reader click here

A look on the relationship from Tony Stark's eyes. Should give you an insight as to how his character growth was plotted - that's hard to see through a first person POV so I came and delivered the "whys" behind his behaviour.

He felt the restless thrumming of the arc reactor between his ribs.

It was the first thing that drew focus of his mind as the situation at hand began to make sense. He was a clever man - the genius in him wasn't just for the academics; sure, he'd revolutionised the world once or twice or three times over the past ten years, but when it came to the rather delicate matters of the heart, he was as clueless as when he was a teenager.

The difference between then and now was only that he knew when to keep his mouth shut. It didn't matter how many poisonous articles the media sharks spewed out, he didn't hesitate to silence and shut every single one of them without a word to the one that started it all.

She lived blissfully by his side. The papers took their worst: without a direct statement, they speculated and called him a cradle robber, a moralless skirt chaser, every name in the book. She wasn't spared too: despite her young age, her social standing and vulture of a mother, the occasional "opportunistic gold-digger" comment made it's way into the NYC socialite column. She never uttered a peep, never shed a tear or even complained and he was utterly fascinated by it.

The world she was living in was much different that the one he was used to. The younger generation used to confuse him but now it was just terrifying; amongst her peers, only the most bitter, jaded ones expressed their disdain towards the press speculations. He'd taken to scrolling through the comments of her social media to make sure she knew what she was getting into by having a relationship with him; the outcome was bizarre - he didn't expect a positive response whatsoever but there they were, people born in the beginning of a new millennia, excited for her, showing their support for the girl who already had made a name for herself in the scientific community.

Another surprise - she was full of them, each day was like opening presents on christmas morning. Banner had nearly turned green when he found out that the "papichulosatan" he was corresponding with on an invite-only biological sciences themed forum was actually a teenager - she had been 16 at the time. Apparently, the inhabitants of the entire planet Earth except for the residents of his tower knew that she was something... Something else.

Not a child, not quite a woman. She hadn't acquired that bittersweetness that Tony associated with women his own age, like Pepper and many more he'd tried to form a relationship with. His girl was pure of heart, clear of soul, but in a way that complimented her maturity. Ever since that fateful night he spent two hours running around the NYC's trendiest clubs just to find her sitting alone with a sense of pride rivaling his own, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was always on his mind and it was terrifying.

It wasn't like she suddenly made his life entirely something else; rather than changing him, she quietly complimented him in a way that suited them both. They didn't really fight because there wasn't anything to fight about. Sure, they disagreed on things all the time, but the unspoken rule to not force something on one another stood. He learned that with Pepper and she- she seemed to be emotionally mature on her own.

That's what his therapist had said, anyway, surprising herself and him. It was evident that the woman thought, to some extent, that he had made her up. But the honeymoon period passed - and Bruce had joined them - and shit happened, but she still stood quietly by his side, not intruding into his personal space but offering him a shoulder to lean on whenever he needed it. Ever since that, Tony began to feel truly invincible. Not a single event in his life had made him feel this powerful.

She went and made friends with Loki, the unlikeliest of people, and she stood by him, too, seemingly a neverending readiness to tear anyone, who dared to make a negative remark about him, limb from limb. Knowingly or not, she had patched the hole in the team - a gaping, bleeding one, of mistrust and unnecessary cautiousness, and continued to do so every single day without a care in the world. Not just him, Tony Stark, but all of the Avengers were invincible with a back-up like that.

Realistically, Tony knew they still had ways to go. They were begrudging friends at first but now the bonds strengthened; even as his disregard for Rogers lessened, the man himself was taking steps to control his impulsivity and temper. Tony hated that it had to be a teenager cowering in fear in front of Steve for the man to realise his good intentions didn't always get the best results. Tony was grateful to Loki he'd stepped in that time. While he didn't think Rogers would actually strike a woman, two hundred pounds of genetically engineered bulk of muscle towering and yelling over you was no less terrifying.

At least it started to turn gears in that steroid brain of his.

Everything after that seemed like a dream. Quiet and witty until provoked, his girl was insatiable for him in a way that matched his own hunger for her. It was never just sex with her, somehow, each time he was inside her it felt like revelations. They'd sit for hours, her in his lap, his half-hard cock buried deep inside her welcoming heat, sometimes working and sometimes just listening to each other's gentle breathing. All the love songs started to make sense.

Seeing Bruce, his second best friend and partner in crime, handle her like he did provoked an opposite reaction of what he was expecting of himself. Tony had been terrified of her leaving him, every single day, no matter how many times his ugly, rotten inside showed itself and she still accepted him; with time, the ache dulled, but it never fully went away.

Bruce put a gentle band-aid on it, unknowingly of course - the scientist was too busy taming his own demons to look out for Tony's - but he went to Tony and laid his cards out on the table. Not backing down and not being sorry for himself either, so neutral it made Tony's heart hurt. They both had come to an agreement, of course, but she went and shredded it and showed them fair and square that they both - all three of them - could get what they wanted only if they worked on themselves a little bit.

For the first time in their lives, the men were truly motivated. There was none of that manipulative undertone that Pepper liked to use on Tony - "you're an adult man, you should be doing and feeling this or that or I'll have to leave you" - there were just gentle hands and even gentler words and no expectations. One day at a time, every single one of them was learning, happily so.

And it wasn't until Natasha had ambushed him in his workshop that he realised, another one of many firsts, that this was what healthy love was supposed to be. There were no obligations, no covert contracts, not one thing that made the whole 'committment' shiding so toxic and terrifying.

Somehow, Natasha knew. "If you hurt her, that's on you. She won't run the first time, and the second time, it's going to be the straw that broke the camel's back... And I would pity you if that happens. Because people like her... They are dangerous when they are hurt. She would gut you like a pig."

Tony's ears were ringing; he wanted to laugh at the absurd thought of this understanding, kind human being acting maliciously. But all he could focus on was Natasha's choice of words: "If... If..." If, not when. Did the spy really think the three of them stood a chance?

Natasha had unceremoniously picked up and chugged his long-cold coffee, gracefully hopping up on the table. "You two are more alike than you think. Figured you'd be self-absorbed enough to choose a carbon copy of yourself," With that, the Russian left, leaving a gaping Tony to stare into the nearest wall. His brain registered it was a joke way too late, the fury that crawled up to burn his throat was cooled by disbelief. If Romanoff thought he was even half as kind and thoughtful as his girl, was it really an insult? Damn those puzzling Russian spies.

Bruce had come not much later, shaken and pale but not green, so deep in thought that he ran into lab equipment twice before ending up in the same place that was occupied by Romanoff minutes earlier. He muttered something about Loki and a pep-talk; things that sounded more like a discussion with his green side, so Tony left him alone.

The shift in Bruce's and Hulk's dynamic was visible to the naked eye ever since that long night in the lab where they both watched Peter and her working on something personal, perfect symbiosis, well-oiled scientific research machine, unlike themselves. Both of them choking on jealousy and acrid, ravenous envy, feelings too inappropriate but too obvious to conceal. Peter's crush on her was just as obvious and her disinterest was just as transparent. But the what-ifs had eaten at them both until they had to spew them out, and the Hulk had been the pushing force for them to begin to act like adults.

Hulk had proposed, in his limited vocabulary and much too passionate tone, to protect the puny Princess at all costs. Bruce didn't resist much and Tony jumped on the bandwagon as soon as he could. It was the only logical solution.

That's why Tony threw the party; he could not care less about Barnes' desire to see Rogers in something trashy and slutty on all Hallows Eve. He couldn't give any less fucks about the press that was raving for another Stark party. He did care a little about Strange's wounded ego: the man fascinated him, like any other strong-willed, independent character, but nothing more. Tony wanted to know what would make the sorcerer tick.

Tony wanted to give his baby girl the world.

And then, he failed.

Tony felt as if someone had poured a bucket of waste right over his head when his- their baby girl had come in, shaking and hiding behind a furious Loki and announced in a monotone voice that she'd been drugged. Something inside of him broke, snapped just like the pencil that Strange was holding next to him.

Bruce hulked out and Tony felt as if he himself would burst any second. His Princess was fearless, he knew it, yet couldn't help his heart from skipping a beat when she approached the green beast with the same kindness she treated all of her closest people. Tony didn't hesitate to follow the Hulk's orders, eager to channel the murderous rage and regretful anguish somewhere; it just spiraled out of hand. Once again, his head was underwater as his life spiraled further and further into lightless abyss and he was alone-

And then all of a sudden, he was warm. Not on the outside, but on the inside - the arms around his shoulders were comforting like an old, worn out sweater, familiar. Missing s couple of threads and spouting a couple of holes - imperfect, but utterly his. Her breathing steady but a little bit shaky, hands holding on just a little too tight.

You two are too much alike, he remembered Natasha's words. That was probably her way of showing just how scared she was. She could be as terrified of his reaction as of the person who did... That... To her. In his house. Tony wasn't stupid; he could put two and two together. That wasn't the time to mope or wallow in self-pity, it was the time to remove the foreseeable threat.

The team stood in silent agreement. A rare moment of absolute unity, all interpersonal issues pushed aside and locked away. Coulson's side-eye was of cosmic magnitude but nobody paid it any mind. It was very unlikely that even the agent himself would be able to stop Natasha and Clint from dealing with the guy; as more and more details came forward, the clouds in the room thickened.

Nobody batted an eye when Baby was, yet once again, the voice of reason and the operation Baby Thief began progressing forward smoothly. Tony reasoned what himself that letting her go with Strange was the best option - even the billionaire himself could not get a better combo than a sorcerer and a doctor that very day.

The box was retrieved; the mere presence ff it and the terse atmosphere it brought into the room reminded all of them too much of the Tesseract and it's effects. Loki was, perhaps, the worst of them all: pacing like an agitated animal, the god growled under his breath at his brother who was clouded with grief and worry. Tony found himself asking "what would Baby do" and came to a conclusion - nothing that wouldn't require him to step over his pride.

In the end, he conceded. A simple "Walk with me", but it was an obvious olive branch extended to Loki and the Asgardian knew it. He wasn't stupid enough to refuse a truce offering in a situation like that. They walked laps around the SHIELD base in neutral silence, slow steps, each lost in their respective thoughts but being finally able to breathe with a full chest. Thankfully, nobody made a remark that they both returned as soon as the box was secured and placed in temporary containment for Strange to pick it up.

For the second time in those 24 hours, Tony's arc reactor all but buzzed in response to his skyrocketing heart rate. She'd called - Loki's phone - and she sounded broken. All of them froze at the exhaustion in her voice; there was nothing but emptiness in the whispers. Nothing that made her, her.

The scene in front of them was something straight out of a B-rated horror movie. Tony thought Loki had reached the apex of his anger earlier; evidently, the engineer had been very wrong and godspeed to the people who managed to piss off the moody Asgardian. It appeared as his magic exploded out of him, all but knocking the people behind him into the walls of the Sanctum.

Their Baby, laying on the floor and the people who swore to protect her beside her, it set Tony's blood ablaze. It boiled, tipping the heat if his temper dangerously close to it's boiling point. She spoke to them, voice shaky and her own fire - it was burning at least as strong as his blood, something had happened and something had hurt her...

Belatedly, he realised Natasha had been right. She was dangerous. There was nothing of the sad, scared girl that came to Bruce whenever she had been upset; there was no desperation for validation, the very same she'd thought she hid well but it seeped through the cracks of her self-deprecating jokes.

Something... Or someone... Had threatened something vital to her. And she was going to make sure they never, ever get the chance to do that again.

I got a comment on AO3, where I also posted this, complimenting my world building. I took a moment to think about it and I understood that to make the story more saturated I had to include some of the other's POVs. So y'all can count on more of these. And if you feel like the x doctor Strange pairing isn't being fully explored - I am aware of that, it's going to be explored more. After all, it took us 10 chapters for Bruce and Tony respectively, and Stephen is a slightly more complicated man. That said, we'll have some more interactions with him shortly. Thank you for your continuous support, guys. I may not remember every single one of your nicknames my heart but I see the likes and I definitely notice whenever a new person binges on this fic. What originally started as an excuse to write hot boomer porn has now grown into something that's a whole damn book and that's because of you guys being so amazing. I love you all 3000.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[spectraspecs-writes]

Taris - Chapter 34 (Bastila)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 33. Chapter 35

A/N After reading some kotor fanfics, seeing how they worked with fight scenes, the characters, and other parts of the world, and after writing some post-game fic of my own, I think I have a better handle on how to do this so it’s not quite so tedious. Because it was tedious for a while there and I didn’t enjoy it.

Plus I didn’t realize how much I liked shipping Bastila and Canderous until I read someone else who shipped it, so now I’ve hopped on that bandwagon.

***

When we step out of the Sith base, I half expect to find a battalion pointing their blaster rifles at us. But surprisingly, there’s nobody here. Like nobody saw us go in and nobody sees us come out. Creepy. Not that I’m complaining. I give T3 a little pat, and he chirps happily. I love my droid.

I get a weird vibe off Bastila. Right, right, she wanted to talk to me. “Hey, Bastila,” I say to her, “Something on your mind?”

At first she looks a little bewildered - how could I know?  - but that quickly fades from her face. “Yes, there is,” she says, "I would like to know what happened after you crashed on Taris. I'm curious as to what you and Carth were doing before we all joined forces.”

“Before we rescued you, you mean,” I say playfully.

Bastila puffs up a little. One day. One day she’ll play back. “I managed to free myself, as I recall,” she says protesting, because she obviously can’t tell I’m playing. Yes, she got the restraining collar off herself, and out of the cage. While I would have figured it out eventually, the fact remains that she did it herself. And she probably would have done it if I wasn’t there. I know that. I know she’s capable. But if we can’t have fun with this, then what’s the point? “In fact,” she adds, “if I hadn't been there Brejik and his thugs might have killed you in that fight. It's probably more accurate to say that I rescued you.”

Now, if she was playing with me, I’d be more than willing to let that go. But she’s not playing with me, she’s quite serious. “You didn’t escape the Black Vulkars until I arrived, as I recall,” I say, mirroring her own words.

She sighs at me, sounding a little exasperated. T3 just laughs a little, and Bastila fires a sharp glare at him. “I'll admit,” she concedes, “I probably wouldn't have been able to free myself if not for the brawl after the swoop race. I guess I should thank you for that, at least.”

“I can’t take credit for that,” I say, “You can thank Brejik for being an ass. He would have done the same to anyone using the accelerator, it had nothing to do with me.”

“Actually, your presence at the swoop track is what I'm curious about,” she says, “You seem to be interested in challenges of skill, hence your prowess in the dueling ring. Can I assume that your entrance in the swoop race was yet another of your endeavours to waste time?”

Bastila, don’t make me hate you, don’t be a bitch. Chill out, Rena, just chill. Forget about it. “Swoop racing isn’t my thing, really,” I say, doing my best to forget the insult to my coping mechanisms, “I did my best to not be involved, but Gadon insisted I ride the modified bike. I wouldn’t have been involved at all if I hadn’t heard you were there.”

“I see,” she says. Does she sound genuinely impressed to you? Maybe it’s just the Force sensitivity she suggested I have and seems to have forgotten about. “It couldn't have been an easy task to find me there. Yet somehow you managed.” I think that’s the closest she’s gotten to complimenting me. “You also avoided detection by the Sith, discovered I was a Vulkar prisoner, gained sponsorship for the race, and became the Taris swoop champion. That's quite a resume.”

“Don’t forget Taris dueling champion.” I was going to duel Bendak, but honestly, I’m just ready to leave. Bastila blusters a little at my mention of dueling, but lets it go. “And it’s not like I was alone, either,” I say, “Carth and Mission were a huge help.”

“Your modesty is admirable,” she says. No, that’s the compliment. “But though others helped, you were the catalyst for these events. When you were chosen to join this mission, I doubt any of us expected this much from you.” Aw, shucks, ‘tweren’t nothing. “A Jedi could have done such things, of course.” Of course. “But only by drawing heavily upon the Force.”

“Yeah, earlier you said I could be Force-sensitive?”

She balks a little. Yep, she didn’t forget about it. “Did I?” she asks rhetorically, but I nod anyway, sporting a smug little grin that she ignores, “The Force works through all of us to some degree or another. There are some individuals outside the Jedi Order that are Force Sensitive.”

“As apparently I am, you said.”

“In any event, it is obvious to me that the Force has been working through you. There is no other explanation for your great success, though I am not certain what to make of this discovery. Perhaps if you weren't–” She stops, trying to think, and I look at her expectantly. “-- well, if you were younger the Jedi might take you for training. But as it is…”

She stops again. Unreadable - I have no idea what she was about to say. “I'm sorry,” she says finally, “I've overstepped my authority.” Wait, what? “I'm speaking of things that are best left to the Jedi Council. For now let's just accept the fact that you are… gifted. Hopefully between your abilities, my Jedi training and the skills of our companions we can find a way off this planet.”

“Don’t forget Canderous,” I say, “He said he could get us a ship.”

“Ah, yes,” she says, like she’s displeased but I don’t buy it, “The Mandalorian. Have you met him before?”

“Once or twice. He doesn’t seem at all pleased to be working for the Exchange. I’d wager he feels like he’s cleaning up other people’s mess.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Enough to go along with his plan,” I tell her, “Besides, I had a feeling we’d need him to get off the planet.”

“A feeling?” she repeats, “And you trust these feelings?”

“They haven’t steered me wrong before,” I say with a shrug, “Probably your Force again.”

“Perhaps. Once we leave Taris, we should consult the Jedi Council. Events have transpired that I think they’d like to know about.”

Well, that doesn’t sound weird at all. It’s like cryptic is just a Jedi thing. Granted, Bastila’s the first Jedi I‘ve met in person, but you hear stories. Whatever. We’d better get to Canderous in the Lower City.

[an-exotic-writer]

yoongi; i don’t like you(r cooking)

❝to say yoongi was excited or at the least interested in you was an understatement. on the other hand, do you know what is undercooked? your chicken pie. ►3341 words // scenario, post-based

Yoongi wakes up to a shit ton of noise outside his door and already he can foresee this is going to be a terrible day. Out of all the days he gets a break and it’s going to be one where the management decides to play a game of 'what noise does Min Yoongi hate the most on a peaceful and quiet day?' Oh yeah, Yoongi dreads for when they carry out a renovation or quote services to improving your stay here unquote bullshit.

So what does he do?

He, apparently, walks out of his bedroom with a disheveled appearance that paints him to be a caveman hibernating for god knows how long and yanks his front door open in irritation. With eyes barely able to open and mouth still full of cotton, he only registers what’s going on when his conscious saves him the guessing and reveals the answer in a form of a person with… a pie?

He gives himself a wakeup call to rub his eyes and shake off the sleepiness heavy in his system, willing to a couple of seconds before he confirms that he's not seeing things. Blinking two consecutive times, he still sees a pie. Okay, it is a pie. No doubt about it there.

His eyes direct him to the owner of the pie and it’s a face he’s never seen before. Admittedly, he isn’t good with faces but if he saw this one... let’s say chances were high he’d recall.

Yoongi decides to be polite... first.

“Can I help you?”

Nervousness shows in your smile, anxiety trembling at your fingertips as they drum the bottom of aluminium casing. Shifting your weight from left to right, the will to man up and say something dipping in your eyes before you find the words to speak, he only waits patiently (not bad, Min Yoongi).

“H-Hi. I live next door and I wanted to come down to-”

“That old lady finally decided to sell her place?”

Look, Yoongi can only try to be polite.

“I’m sorry?”

“...oh shit. Okay, what I meant was-”

“Yes, she did,” You cut him off before he can try to explain himself and if that wasn’t the definition of being saved by the bell, Yoongi doesn’t know what is. He sighs in relief and shakes his head, eyes clenched shut with a soft how do I say this and he does say it as: “I’m kinda... how you call it...”

“...direct? Honest?”

“Woah, one assumption at a time,” He holds a hand up, the other resting by his hip and when your smile drops from the slight hospitality, he breaks out into a grin, “Both right, by the way,”

“Good to know the few times I decide to be a smart ass it works out,”

He puts his hand out, “I’m Yoongi,”

You juggle the pie on your forearm, a free hand inching out to place in his for a small shake, “I’m Y/N, as I would’ve introduced before,”

“Ah, right,” Yoongi retracts his hand, as to how yours return to hold onto the pie, “You new here?”

“Have you seen me before?” Your head tilts a little at the end of your question, and Yoongi finds it easy to smile in the early of the day when he should be asleep. In other words, he’s one hell of a grump if he’s interrupted in his sleep so to be smiling at this hour where he’d murder anyone who dares threaten his rest... it speaks miles of Yoongi’s patience here.

“If I did, I would’ve remembered that face,”

There’s an indirect wink when your face scrunches up at the answer but it’s not necessarily... bad? It’s just - well - however you try to put it, ah, whatever.

“I made you a pie. You know, since we’re going to be neighbours,”

“And you can cook?” After the implication you’re pretty, it’s more or less a little too much for two compliments in a row so you hand him the pie regardless whether he was ready to hold onto three hours of dedication and time. He snorts at the lack of your response but at the spark in his eyes as you back away, you wave and give a reply of: “I try sometimes. See you around,”

Yoongi only clicks his tongue and backs into his apartment, watching you enter yours with a hint of red cheeks. As he closes the door behind him, padding his feet to the kitchen is where he takes a spoon to whip a generous bite. With a mouthful of the taste of chicken that’s... undercooked. He forces it down his system before setting the whole pan aside with a cough.

“She wasn’t kidding when she said she was trying.”

//

Yoongi was always known to be a direct person but... look, it’s you here.

You, who moved here barely two weeks ago but Yoongi has his head shoved up into your-okay nope, that’s gonna sound wrong. To put it to simpler terms... Yoongi found that the things you do either make him smile from the moment he sees it or he’ll complain of how annoying it is but soon gives in because it’s you. Either one, whichever, however, Yoongi was hooked and there’s no way he’s going to unhook by being an ass (something he’s told he’s a master in).

The whole trying to figure out whether he’s interested in you took him less than twenty-four hours because he was screwed. He could only hope you’d return with a reason for him to see your face. He’d try to create opportunities to get to you know you better and while it’s been working out pretty damn great so far (no joke, he’s about to get on one knee to ask you to go out on a burger date with him), in terms of how his fridge is holding up the food you keep giving him isn’t doing so swell (cue the drums for when someone makes a joke that needs the help of a percussion so people know it’s a joke).

So what does he do?

Does he be rational and try to tell you in the nicest way possible that your cooking could improve with a little constructive criticism because it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it? Or does he invite a friend over for a meal who has no idea of what’s in store?

Hey, Yoongi might be a lot of things but he’s not shady... except now.

“Okay, I know you can’t cook for shit but you’re not that bad,” Seokjin clears his throat, taking the glass of water to down whatever he just ate. Was it chicken or pork? Seasoned or cooked as it is? He was more confused than Yoongi was and for someone who cooks more than all possible fingers and toes he has... that speaks volumes of Seokjin’s abilities.

“Aha, I knew you were smart, hyung,” Yoongi scoffs, nudging away the undercooked chicken away and Seokjin gazes down to the plasticware that he’s certain it doesn’t belong on Yoongi’s shelves because since when did Min Yoongi buy colorful containers?

“I didn’t cook it,”

“Yeah, you didn’t. It’s still undercooked and-”

“No,” Yoongi laughs this time, shaking his head, “My neighbour gave me all of this,”

“All of this?” Seokjin’s confused, surprised and intrigued all at once. Mostly curious, “What? Are you dying or something? Am I late on the bandwagon to know you’re about to die a bachelor?”

“Asswipe,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, swatting Seokjin’s hands away so he can seal the lid, “I’m doing just fine and I’d live until the day your kids disrespect you to your face and agree Uncle Yoongi is much better than Old Man Kim,”

“Alright Uncle Min You-Can’t-Cook, how did all of this food appear?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy,”

“I already do, so go ahead,”

Yoongi releases a breath and looks Seokjin in the eye, almost daring Seokjin to look away if he doesn’t want to know but Seokjin’s a bit ballsy for someone who looks like they aren’t.

“My new neighbour who just moved in a couple of weeks ago made them. And I think she likes me which is good because I like her but I can’t tell her I don’t like her cooking,”

Five seconds of silence, four more to let it all digest, three degrees of Yoongi squinting his eyes to slits, two pair of eyes still on each other and one hell of a - “You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Seokjin tries to keep his composure but completely loses it when he bursts out laughing. Yoongi only rolls his eyes with what he can before they shut tightly at Seokjin’s on-going cackling that sounds like a thousands sheep echoing within the four walls of his apartment.

“I knew you wouldn’t take this seriously,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, already moving to pack everything up to shove into his fridge that when he opens it, Seokjin wipes the tears from his eyes from laughing too hard at his friend’s insanity until he sees that... oh my god.

“Shit, Yoongi... you weren’t kidding?”

Yoongi gives his fridge door a good nudge until Seokjin has a good view of the lined storage he knows Yoongi would be too lazy to even bother storing but since it’s given, he’s doing his best to make it look like he appreciates it. Which, by the way, he really does and he goes to sleep with guilt every night knowing he doesn’t quite enjoy eating it as much as he claims to but when the morning arises with the slight possibility you’d come by his door and light his day up with a smile, how could he resist? 

“I half-wish I was,”

“...do I want to know why your wish is cut in half?”

“Because that means she likes me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, I’ll let you have that but,” Seokjin hops off the stool and walks over to rummage through from a variety of dishes to fried rice and dessert, it’s clear that whoever who made this for Yoongi was passionate and dedicated but... someone needs a better cookbook to follow. Or more reliable websites to check for recipes.

“You’re not gonna tell her?”

“Listen, hyung,” Yoongi clears his throat, nudging the older away before using his hip to close the fridge, “If it was that easy, I would’ve done it a long time ago,”

“You mean sixteen dishes and two desserts ago,”

“I get it, I get it! But I’d like to see you try,”

Seokjin laughs again but this time it’s because it’s even more absurd than the revelation to why Yoongi suddenly has a bundle of meals to last him a lifetime, shoving the latter away by brushing his hand from his shoulder.

“This isn’t my problem here,”

“Chickening out?”

“...show me.”

A coincidental arrival of someone special and now two smitten hearts later, with a freshly baked pie in Seokjin’s hands because Yoongi forced him to answer the door instead, Seokjin now sees Yoongi’s struggle.

“...I can see why now,”

“Thank you.”

//

In all honesty, when Yoongi begged Seokjin to take some food back home with him, he doesn’t feel bad for his friend but for you who have been so generously caring and it’s everything Yoongi deserves if only he was honest. So now, ladies and gentlemen, what does Seokjin do?

Does he quietly take the food and mind his own business like what an OG homie should do? Or does he take the food, bring it home, get one of his trustable, cook-worthy cookbook with him back to where Yoongi stayed? Option two, people. Número dos.

Seokjin waits patiently as he gives a knock on the door, hoping that this time it isn’t an old man about to punch him square in the face or a cranky middle-aged woman who claims he’s stealing her precious beauty sleep because man, does he have bad memory to which unit Yoongi complained about all his life since moving here. But he endures it, decides it’s worth it when a familiar smile greets him as the door opens.

“Oh? Seokjin?”

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Said person smiles, with a charming smile to back up what he’s about to say and a book held behind his back he grips on tighter because he’s sure Yoongi wouldn’t hesitate to fist his eyeball out if he knew what his friend is doing.

“Anything I can help you with?”

“...as a matter of fact, yes,” Seokjin reveals what he has and it seems to capture your attention. With eyes glued to the cover, he smiles when you do, the same time your eyes meet.

“I’ll fill you in with a secret, yeah? My friend earlier ago is completely head over heels for you that he can’t tell you that your cooking... uh...” He notices the hint of solemn dwelling in that he already knows this is going to be hard so he - “No no no, I mean - it’s not bad, okay I’d be lying if I said that but it’s-”

“-horrible, isn’t it?” You finish for him, and Seokjin’s eyes widen at the words he didn’t say but swore he did. He blinks a couple of times at your acknowledgement, only resulting to a nod in case Yoongi manages to come out and whack him upside down for trying to meddle in other people’s business.

“I know... it’s just - I’m trying to improve and considering Yoongi’s kind of...”

“Cute?” He sees you’re about to jump in on it but he can’t help but fix himself because - “Oh what the hell did I just call him cute? Shit,”

Your laughter is the only thing saving him from getting his ass dragged across the halls, lifting his worry away when you’re taking this much better than he had expected. Some people can’t take criticism or the fact that they can’t get the same feedback they imagine in their head so, this was eons better than what he pictured on the way here.

“He seemed happy and looked like he enjoyed it so I continued giving him some? Whenever I asked him for feedback he’d brush it off and talk about something else so I wasn’t too sure but... I guess it’s really bad, huh?”

“...eh, don’t say it like that...”

“Seokjin, we just met and you don’t live here. You can be as honest as you want to be,”

“Your chicken was undercooked and not seasoned well. The coleslaw could be chopped up better with a little more mayonnaise and your garlic bread... I could recommend a pre-made mix that tastes really good,”

There’s a simliar silence from earlier on between Yoongi and Seokjin but this time it’s between Seokjin and someone he shouldn’t be talking to. Here is where Seokjin’s heart beat so loud he bets with all his life assets you can hear them. It isn’t until you break the quietness that stills between the pair of you when you chuckle, smile still very much lingering on your face, “You’re as honest as Yoongi, aren’t you?”

He eases up, his guard not letting down easily yet, “I guess that’s one of the reasons why we get along,”

Seokjin isn’t sure if he should apologize now or wait until you’re done vocalizing what you thought of his... brutal honesty but he waits. What is it, you ask? He doesn’t know, either. Biting down on his lip and watching as you reach out for his cookbook, he only lets you take it as you ask while flipping through the contents, “If I follow this, do you think I’ll cook... less bad tasting food?”

Great, now Seokjin feels like a dick.

The saying comes from what he always told other people: just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you have to act like one.

“L-Look, Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in any way but... I didn’t think through what I said and-”

“Is this what Yoongi thinks too?”

...it had to get worse, didn’t it?

“I... uh... Y/N...”

“Hyung,” A (horrifyingly) familiar voice calls from a distance and Seokjin looks over his shoulder to see two eyes he’s seen since he was seventeen and knew there and there he’d grow up until seventy with him. Nervously licking his lips, Seokjin can’t say much when Yoongi gets him to leave, his cookbook still with you but Seokjin assures it’s for you anyway and makes a bolt when Yoongi is giving him the look where if he doesn’t run, he’ll make him.

Now standing in front of you, face to face, Yoongi’s honest for the first time.

Well, second.

“What Seokjin said earlier... yes, it’s exactly what I thought too,”

“...and after all this while you never bothered to tell me?”

“I...” For once, Yoongi was speechless, unable to find the right words to say when usually he had too many to choose from. Noticing your sad eyes makes it harder but it kills him to be misunderstood so he speaks up. “I couldn’t,”

“What do you mean you-”

“You spent so long making them, cooking even though you barely have time for yourself and you give all that hard work to me so how could I possibly tell you your cooking was bad?” Yoongi’s arm inches forward and you could only hope he pushes it a little further to let his hand hold onto yours but regret gets to him and pulls it to his side, remaining there as he says: “I’m sorry, Y/N. For not being honest but... I thought if I told you I didn’t like your cooking, you’d not want to talk to me and I realize how stupid that sounds now but I - Y/N,”

With a raised brow, fidgeting fingers against the book in your hands, Yoongi collects the guts to ask: “W-Would you like to have dinner with me?”

He sees how confusion starts to take over and he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing (good because you don’t look sad, bad because... now he’s confused too. did he say something wrong?).

“Let me get this straight. You’ve been lying to me for two weeks about my cooking and now you’re asking me out on a date?”

Yoongi doesn’t see what’s so confusing about that.

“...pretty much, yeah I guess - hey! That hurt!” Yoongi yelps when you use Seokjin’s gift to hit him, a couple of times of a smack until you’re satisfied with the way Yoongi’s whining and grabbing onto your hands with a frown.

“Y/N, I’m sorry! But I-”

“Yes, you idiot,”

“-couldn’t just-...what?”

Yoongi’s grip loosens on your wrists and his eyes dilate with curiosity as he gapes at you.

“Did you say-”

“Yes,” You sigh, wiggling your hands from him (that he wants to hold a little bit longer but he’ll take all he can for now), “I’ll go on a date with you,”

“...even after all I did? Or rather, all I’ve never said?”

“Yeah,” You admit, reaching out to lightly punch his chest with no effect or strength in it, “Even after all that,”

There’s a pinch of need to clarify something at the bottom of Yoongi’s heart the more he looks at you. No doubt, you’re all smiley now but he has to get this off his chest in order to be able to sleep well at night.

“I’ll be honest now whenever you cook for me, okay?”

“...okay,”

“But if I do, you won’t hate me, right? I can get real honest if you wanted me to and you crying if I said your chicken tasted like rubber stockings wouldn’t be a pretty sight,”

“Depends,” You flick the cover of - “Your friend’s cookbook better be good,”

He shrugs.

“Eh, I think after all you’ve cooked I don’t think that gives you the right to-”

“If you still want me to go on a date with you, Min Yoongi, zip it,”

“...consider my mouth gone.”