#i’m eat him with a bun and also some ketchup

[eruptedinlight]

You mean i have to color this now this is bullshit

[goodgodwhysposts]

Hey :)

This one probably works better in the canon universe (but who knows, maybe it could be fun in "okay it's serious" too)

A camping weekend. Like they go away for 2 or 3 days and have some alone time in the woods or next to a lake or something. Also outdoor sex :)

Hey thank you for the prompt! I've never done one of these before so I hope this is okay :)

-----

“Come swimming with me.”

Percy turned down the dial on the grill and looked over his shoulder at his girlfriend.

“I’m making dinner,” he told her.

“I wanna swim,” she repeated, scratching her arm.

“Can’t we swim after we’ve eaten?” he asked, amused.

She shook her head, “no, we should go now.”

“What happened to reading your book?” he nodded towards the hammock that she’d just vacated.

“I’m getting eaten alive,” she whined.

“You literally grew up in the woods,” he retorted, turning back to the barbeque and flipping a burger.

“Please,” she drew out, coming up behind him and leaning her head against his back.

“The food is almost ready, we can go right after we eat,” he promised, stirring the beans.

She wrapped her arms around him and tucked her hands into the little kangaroo pocket in his hoodie, “but then we’ll have to wait another fourty-five minutes to digest and it’s gonna be dark by then.” 

“I thought you said that was a myth.” 

He could feel her smile against his back, “I thought you said my fun facts weren’t that fun.”

He put the vegetables on low heat to simmer and slid his hands into the same pocket, threading their fingers, “definitely not fun, but useful when I can use them against you,” he joked, giving her a squeeze.

She dug her forehead between his shoulder blades, “what can I do to entice you?”

He shook his head, “it’s impossible to bribe me when I’m hungry.”

“I’ll let you make the fire tonight,” she offered.

He pulled a hand free to flatten the burgers with the spatula, “hmm, no you’re pretty good at it.”

“What if I tell Leo about all your failed attempts,” she threatened.

He moved sideways to grab the bag of buns, and she shuffled with him, still tucked against his back, “everyone already knows you’re better at things than me, I’m not embarrassed.”

He took out two buns and laid them on the paper plates.

“I’ll let you have the last pudding cup,” she tried next.

He pursed his lips as he shoved the spatula under the burgers and set them on top of the buns, “tempting,” he admitted, “but, I think I’d still rather eat this delicious meal I’ve prepared.”

“What if I scratch your back before bed?” she pointed at the tomatoes, “can I have two?”

He nodded and placed two slices on her burger, before scooping some beans onto each plate, “I do love a good back scratch,” he agreed. He gestured behind them with his thumb, “can you pour me some water?”

Annabeth retracted herself to grab a cup for each of them, as he picked up both plates and brought them to the picnic table. She slipped onto the bench across from him and passed him his drink.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking a big swig.

“Thanks for making dinner,” she replied, squeezing ketchup onto her patty. 

He shrugged with a grin, “I wanted something edible tonight.”

She rolled her eyes and dug her fork into her beans to take a large bite, “I know how to cook.”

He picked up his burger, “last time we had your food I chipped a tooth.”

“You’re mean,” she grumbled, drawing a knee to her chest and leaning her chin on it.

His smile widened. She looked so cute in an oversized sweater with her hair thrown into a messy bun at the top of her head. They hadn’t showered in two days, and she had a bit of dirt smudged on her nose, but he thought she’d never looked more beautiful. He’d rather dirt than blood.

“I make the meals, you make our fires,” he said, “I think that’s a fair trade.”

He opened his mouth to take a bite of his burger.

“What if we go skinny dipping?”

The food hovered between his lips as he narrowed his eyes, “you wanna go skinny dipping right now?” he repeated.

She smirked and nodded. His eyes flickered to her bare skin, her loose shorts falling high on her thighs, before glancing back at his burger. 

His head fell back, “Beth I spent thirty minutes making this food,” he complained.

She shrugged, failing to smother a smug grin, “it’s up to you.”

He exhaled and shut his eyes, making a silent apology to his hungry stomach. He pushed himself up from the table and scooped up both of their plates, “you’re evil.”

She jumped up as well, eyes twinkling. He carried the food to the car, pulling open the door and dropping the plates onto the passenger seat so that no animals would be attracted to their campsite. That would be just their luck.

Annabeth was already peeling off her sweater as she raced down towards the lake. Percy shouted after her, sprinting to catch up. He shimmied his shorts down, hopping as he went to get them loose, eyes raking over her form as she swivelled out of her own shorts. He flung his shirt next to her pile of clothes, watching as she unhooked her bra and crossed her arms over her chest, walking backwards into the water. He stumbled forward, only slightly self-conscious about stripping off his boxers on the deserted beach. He prayed no one caught them, that would be just their luck too.

She was up to her thighs, slowly wading deeper into the current, her hair tumbling out of her bun around her shoulders. The sunset spun her blonde curls into gold, her wide eyes bright and mischievous as she waited for him. Percy thought she looked more beautiful than any siren or goddess he’d ever met.

He cupped his crotch and sprinted forward, splashing through the water and tackling her around the waist, listening to the joyful screech she let out in his ear as they fell backwards into the wake. They popped up spluttering, and she ran her fingers through her hair, pushing her damp waves away from her face. 

He wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her close as her hands fell to his shoulders, chest to chest, heart to heart.

“This was nice,” she said eventually, still a little breathless.

He nodded, “it was good to get away for a bit,” he whispered.

She nudged her nose against his, “we should do this more often.”

He hummed in agreement, “we should. I like spending time with you outside of camp and our dorms.”

She traced her finger along his collarbone, “yeah, we needed the break.”

“I’m glad you suggested it,” he said quietly.

“Me too.”

He tucked a curl behind her ear, cupping her jaw and tugging her in so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. She lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around his thigh, her smooth calf brushing against his skin, pushing them together intimately. Her hand slid around his neck and tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. She turned her head and traced her tongue along the seam of his mouth, looking to deepen the kiss. He bit down gently on her bottom lip in retaliation and she let out a low moan.

He leaned back with his brows raised, “oh yeah?”

She nodded, “mhm.”

“Right here?” he asked, watching the way her chest rose and fell in the water.

“Right here,” she muttered in assent, grey eyes darkened.

“Gods I love you,” he told her before grabbing her hips and tilting forward to capture her lips again.

[loemius]

Hello! My Noumeniin traditions is to cook vegetarian meal of dolmades and couscous. I eat meat most time, never for Apollona holy days. My son has found a recipe for vegetarian hamburger so we will eat American this month. Also to clean my house and sing song. What do you have? It surpris see a American celebrate holidays of Ancient Greek.

khaire again my anon friend! i'm answering both of these back to back today since i have some time. as always, i'm glad to hear from you <3 your noumenia traditions sound lovely! when i'm feeling better and can eat well again, i'd like to try that meal myself. my traditions are very similar, and as always dame canary (@luminarycanary) taught me a lot of what i know. i like to celebrate the ancient greek holidays as traditionally as i can as an american because it makes me feel closer to the theoi. i can't really explain how or why, there's just something so sacred to me about offering them their traditional meals on their holiest days. i'm very thankful for dame canary, who is such a good friend, and teaches me how to honor the theoi better and better each day. i try not to eat meat on apollona's holy days as well, but given my chronic stomach issues i'm so grateful when i get to eat anything at all, so if i'm up to eating chicken that day, i'll eat it, because i figure that phoebe wants me to be healthy more than anything. however, i don't eat beef at all anymore for apollona to honor his sacred cows. no matter what i end up eating, i eat something with greek seasonings and olive oil, things that are sacred to apollona. some of my past noumenia meals have been chicken and potatoes, pasta with veggies, rice pilaf, but i like to change it up. i also clean my house, and especially my altars. i do a really big cleanse of the altar where i take everything off and reorganize it for the upcoming month. i then usually make a khernip and use it to cleanse my altars and home. i’ll then offer something to the theoi, especially phoebe apollona. they get the steam from my meals of course, but on noumenia i try to give a fairly large offering of incense, candles, and fresh water, sometimes alcohol if i can. i do what i can depending on how i feel that day. while i clean i like to listen to hymns to the theoi, especially phoebe. and of course, i pray and thank them for the blessings of the past month and ask them to watch over me and my oikos for the next. i also wash my kadiskos the night before on hekate’s deipnon and offer the previous month’s kadiskos to her. i make sure i leave it out to dry so i can make the fresh one the next day at some point. i recently got a new bottle for my kadiskos and it’s so lovely! americans who need a kadiskos bottle: check the dollar store or thrift store. got mine there and it’s great. i’m really looking forward to this noumenia because i was blessed with good enough financial fortune to buy a small statue of phoebe and it’s coming in the mail the day before noumenia. i’m so blessed to be able to afford a statue of him. thank you for sharing with me about your meal this month! here are my suggestions as an american: toast the burger bun. it’s worth it and better if it’s a little crunchy and toasty. don’t forget the cheese on the burger if you eat dairy. a lot of americans also enjoy a burger sauce that can be made with 1 tablespoon ketchup, 1 tablespoon mayonnaise, and a little bit of relish or chopped pickle. also, americans often eat french fries with them, so if you’re eating american that’s the truest way to eat the dish imo hahahahah. as always, anon, i hope the righteous and glorious theoi bless you and your family every day. may apollon and artemis kourotropos watch over you and your son, may lady demeter bless your area with a rich harvest and plenty of food to eat, may pallas athene protect and watch over your city, and may king zeus and queen hera bless you, your family, and your community!

[jakestravels]

Europe 2022 - Day 39 - Athens

Slept in a bit longer than I thought, so decided to do the Parthenon tomorrow. Scoured the city for record stores, and I gotta be honest - they weren’t great. Either they were all new stuff, or old stuff that was very overpriced.

Nevertheless, I got to see the city, and walked like 13 miles! So technically... you could say I did a real deal Greek half marathon!

I’ve been on a pretty strict eating regimen lately, that essentially is a very tiny breakfast, then beer in the afternoon, and a late dinner. (Again, it’s tough to find restrooms here.) However, I’d been craving a little something different today, so I had an early lunch (moussaka from Bouka, a place that was recommended to me, but i only found to be so-so), but my late lunch took place at Guerilla Chef Burgers, where the only menu items is a single or double burger. That’s it. And it comes dressed with only cheese, ketchup, mayo and mustard.

That’s it.

Honestly, it wasn’t too bad! I’ve mentioned before that it doesn’t seem Europeans do burgers right, and this one wasn’t quite on, but good nonetheless. The bun was a work of art - a soft brioche job, grilled long enough to get a nice toast.

Went back to the hostel for another round of happy hour, and can I just say this hostel has been the best by far this trip? (BTW, it’s called Nubian Hostel Athens.) The staff are rad, and the owner is a big vinyl junkie, so we talked about that quite a bit, and this morning as I was leaving the hostel, I caught him walking in to work across the street, and he hollered out, “Hey, Jake!” It was one of those moments where it felt like I was ingratiating with a society.

But also, after the first night with some chatty talk-to-text types who wouldn’t shut up at 1 in the morning, I pulled a small Karen, and the next morning went down and spoke to Odysseus.

“Hey, man,” I said, “I’m a light sleeper, and am having a real issue with the crew of three girls in my 6-person dorm. By chance, are they checking out today?”

Odizzy looked at his computer. “Nope, tomorrow. But if you can wait it out...”

“Well, I guess, but I also noticed on hostelworld.com that you have 4-person dorms available.”

Not only was there space in the 4-person dorms, but they were even renting them out as whole rooms, meaning one person pays for all four beds, presumably for a group or family. So I knew there were plenty of beds. So I continued.

“I don’t want to be a bother, but I have no issue paying the, what, extra three dollars a night to be in a 4-bed to have a few less people and maybe I can sleep better?”

O-dawg contemplated, and then asked to hold, presumably to talk to the boss, mainly because check-out time had already ended and the cleaners were gone. He came back and said, “No problem.” So I moved to the new room, and for the next four days, didn’t have a single roommate.

It was heaven. Partly responsible for my late sleep-ins. ;)

Met a couple of new people, and we all went out for some veggie food. And the mushrooms were delicious. But again, forgot to take pics of the people... But I did get the food (kinda).

[erenoir]

welcome to flavortown

the one where the aot boys are in charge of the grill. the messy headcanons no one asked for </3.

genre: grill master!aot boys, summer vibes only, hot husbands in charge of the barbecue, slightly corny, guy fieri type beat

warnings: none baby we’re having a barbecue just bring a side, cursing, meat?

featuring: s4! connie, armin, eren, jean, levi + erwin

a/n: is this a joke? no, no it’s not <3. i thought about this once + now it’s a full fantasy, please indulge with me. maybe i’m just hungry, who knows <3.

connie grills hot dogs

he keeps it simple with his meats. he doesn’t love manning the grill, but he loves trying to impress you.

will definitely flex his biceps while flipping the hot dogs as if he’s lifting 50 pound weights.

he has like three open beers on the table next to him.

yes he’s drinking them all at once.

you walk up to him with another beer as he leans over the grill and puckers his lips at you.

“dame un besito mama.”

he didn’t ask to be born latina.

wipes his forehead with a towel he keeps around his neck.

wears an apron that says “kiss the cook” on it.

twirls the spatula around his fingers like it's a drumstick.

why he has a spatula to cook hot dogs, you don't know.

"what are hot dogs even made out of babe?"

"meat goop?!"

"'s some damn good meat goop."

"i'm gordon ramsay up in this bitch baby!"

connie my love you’re grilling pre-cooked hot dogs.

leaves the grill to watch the football game in the living room for a second.

he was gone for thirty minutes.

“the hot dogs are burnt baby.”

“okay let’s just order take out.”

“pizza?” “pizza.”

armin grills steaks.

armin grills steaks because he’s big brain.

it is hard to grill a perfect steak guys but he nails it everytime.

uses a meat thermometer to make sure the inside is cooked perfectly.

pokes at the steak while it’s on the grill with his finger to see if it’s done or not.

gets eye level with the steaks to make sure the sear is perfect.

will not cook a steak above medium because he insists you lose flavor once you start overdoing it.

he’s a new york strip type of boy OR sirloin, only the best for his baby.

he’ll splurge on nice sides, armin loves a nice anti pasta salad.

red wine in plastic wine glasses. sets up a nice outdoor picnic table spread.

would also serve you your food and bring it to you while you’re in the pool.

will not let you lift a finger, he wants you to relax on your flamingo floatie.

would take your steak back to the grill if it wasn’t cooked the way you liked.

you didn’t want to tell him yours was a little underdone because it wasn’t that big of a deal to you and he worked so hard.

but he notices your face as you take your first bite.

“you don’t like it.”

“no! sweetie i love it i— “it’s not cooked enough.”

“here let me put it back on the grill for you.”

you insist he doesn’t have to, it was only a few degrees off.

“i want you to enjoy your meal darling, i’ll be right back.”

eren grills burgers.

he can’t be bothered to grill anything else, don’t ask him to do anything complex.

burgers. on the grill. buns. cheese. ketchup. done.

you give him a shopping list of what he needs to get and send him off.

“why do we need all of this for burgers babe??”

“toppings eren, toppings.”

forgets like half of the things on the list.

comes back with the store brand of everything you asked for bc he’s a grill master on a budget babes.

gets pissed when you ask him if he could go back to the store to get what he forgot.

“eren how do you expect people to eat burgers without onions?!”

“who the fuck likes onions babe?”

grills in a skimpy little white tank top.

struggles to light the charcoal, but he insists he doesn’t need help.

“eren just let me do it— “i got it babe!!”

gets himself extra sweaty because he likes to get you frustrated.

eren mixes his drinks while he grills. like chaotic nasty drinks.

the burgers are overcooking while he pours some vodka into his red bull.

definitely has one of those gatorade bottles that squirt.

asks you to shoot some water into his mouth while he’s grilling. spatula in one hand, mouth open and his face turned to you.

“okay now babe.”

messy bun eren cooking burgers.

wears black adidas slides on the patio with his swim shorts.

“gourmet burger, courtesy of chef eren babe,” he says smugly.

doesn’t serve you but lays out the toppings for you so you can have your own little burger bar.

jumps in the pool once he’s done cooking, you watch him swim around while you eat your kids cuisine.

jean grills ribs.

jean soaks the ribs in a special marinade overnight.

“the meat has to fall off the bone honey.”

loves a good rib rub.

mf rubbing all types of seasonings on his ribs.

he’s a fan of a dry rub but loves having various sauce options on the side for you two.

makes extra ribs because he wants to take them to work for lunch throughout the week.

back to the sauces, jean is a sauce man. he’s got the sauce in more ways than one.

chipotle honey, spicy barbecue, teriyaki, you name it.

jean grills shirtless.

jean wears a sweatband around his head, he takes grilling very seriously.

“i’m the man! i gotta grill! don’t you touch the grill honey i’m gonna serve you!”

no seriously don’t touch the grill.

his ribs have to cook at a specific temperature.

definitely don’t take the lid off the grill to check on the ribs either, you’ll let all the steam out.

“how do you know they’re not burning babe?”

“you have to trust the integrity of the rib honey. when have i ever made a bad rib?”

he was right, he never made a bad rib.

sings the chili’s baby back ribs song while he grills.

“i want my baby back baby back baby back.”

sings the high parts.

drinks jack daniel’s whiskey while he grills.

definitely throws a splash of whiskey from his glass onto the ribs here and there.

jean looks at you intently as you take your first bite, he likes to watch your reactions.

“it’s fucking good right honey?”

“it’s fucking good baby.”

levi grills salmon.

BOUGIE BABY.

levi doesn’t just grill for anything. there has to be a special occasion.

why would he want to smell like meat and charcoal just to grill a measly burger.

so he grills salmon, and you two are having a couple’s day by the pool.

you two have a fancy pool where the hot tub is attached, and one of those rock slides.

levi grills in a simple cotton t-shirt, doesn’t want to stink up his nice clothes.

levi drinks wine while he grills, swirling it as he flips the salmon.

he drinks red.

and he brings out the crystal wine glasses from the special cabinet.

he likes to listen to classic rock while he grills.

doesn’t want you to touch the grill because he doesn’t want you to burn yourself.

also doesn’t trust you with his expensive cuts of salmon.

no because he went to the butcher specifically and got the salmon that they caught that day.

he keeps it fresh, enjoys a simple, refreshing lemon garnish on his fish.

“i don’t need help, just go sit by the pool.”

“but—

“go.”

“i blew up your favorite lounge chair… now go,” he mumbles.

“the one with the!—

“yes the one with the cup holders. now take your wine and stop bothering me, tch.”

you fell asleep floating in the middle of your pool on your favorite lounge chair with the cup holders.

levi splashes water on you to wake you up.

“hey! dinner’s ready.”

acts like grilling was no big deal for him.

but secretly awaits your response as you bite into your salmon.

“so?”

“it’s good levi!”

he rolls his eyes but smiles small enough that you wouldn’t notice.

erwin grills chicken.

an underrated grill item.

you can’t go wrong with a classic chicken wing.

but erwin doesn’t make just any plain chicken wings.

he loves a buffalo wing.

king loves a little bit of spice.

he marinates the wings in frank’s hot sauce the night before.

you were sat at the kitchen counter watching his shoulder blades flex as he tossed the wings in the sauce around the bowl.

the next day he wakes up bright and early to get the backyard ready for you guys.

turns the heater on in the pool because he knows you like it at a certain temperature.

he grills so… elegantly. like a gazelle.

erwin wears a navy blue robe while he grills, with his swim shorts underneath.

his chest hair pokes out a bit from the top.

he doesn’t get his hands dirty, he uses a pair of tongs to flip the wings.

he holds a can of beer in the other hand.

he watches you tan next to the pool.

he even joins you for a bit while the wings cook.

he massages one of your hands in his, while you hold a magazine in the other.

erwin is a very organized chef, he has everything timed down to a t.

ERWIN WEARS RAY-BAN AVIATOR SUNNIES.

fuck.

okay sorry, he wears gold aviator sunnies at the bridge of his nose as he lowers the heat on the grill to let the wings simmer.

erwin does the dad thing where he puts his hands on his hips and just looks out into the yard and nods silently.

except he’s holding a cigar in one hand.

erwin is in the process of building you a wooden flowerbed.

he’s a handyman. a home depot commercial theme song type of man.

swats the smoke away from the grill as he opens it up.

erwin serves you two your wings on a wooden board like they do at barbecue restaurants.

chicken wing charcuterie board type beat.

“sweetheart? wings are ready!” he calls to you from the grill.

you eat your wings poolside, toasting your beer cans.

“to a happy, healthy marriage sweetheart.”

i’m not gonna shut up about the sunglasses.

you have matching sunglasses.

a/n: this was rushed but i just HAD to get this off my plate 🍽

[unnerving-presence]

I literally just heard the buffs for my boy trapper so to celebrate that, can I request Trapper with a female survivor who somehow, someway, manages to bring in food into trials.

Like she brings in sausages on a stick so she could cook them near fire places like in auto-haven or in Mother’s Dwelling.

She panics when she sees Trapper and with her 3 brain cells, makes a gigachad calculation, by asking him of he wants some food.

i imagine they bring a whole as mcdonald’s kids meal with the toy and everything lmfaooo

also i love that you said ‘gigachad calculation’ i’m now using that when i write or when i play dbd ty anon you just gave me a new saying

⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫⌫

How are you bringing food into trials? Where did you even get it?? Evan’s just as confused as everyone else.

He sees you cooking a hotdog over the fire place in Mother’s Dwelling before you put a bun and ketchup on it. He hasn’t had a hotdog in.. years? Decades? How long has he been in this place? He doesn’t have time to really think much about it before hearing the Entity’s call for blood and chaos.

Evan marches over with his cleaver lifted above his head ready to strike. Before he has the chance to harm you, you notice him, and with a warm smile offer him your newly made hotdog. This was something he was not expecting..

The hotdog doesn’t have any ketchup or mustard on it, but he figures it’s better than eating that survivor pudding the Entity would give as food. Evan doesn’t call it food, but he prefers not starving, especially in this horrid place where luckily the one in power is on his side. He’s not a fan of cannibalism, but if it’s all he gets in order to survive, he’ll take it.

He’ll take it and be on his way. Some part of him from before he was taken tells him that nobody was kind like you. And while he usually would’ve ignored his softer side, Evan can’t resist actual food.

This becomes a regular thing. You somehow arriving in trials with food, and you give some to Evan in trade for- well.. not dying. It even goes as far as him meeting you outside of trials just to get some food. He’s even gotten to try some foods his father would’ve never allowed him to eat.

He’ll even ask where you got it from, and why he’s not getting what you have. Evan is one of the Entity’s best killers and all he gets is the meat of sacrificed survivors? Honestly he’s a bit jealous, but he’s very grateful that you’re selfless enough to share some of your food with him.

[snarkythewoecrow]

After seeing a post pointing out that Sam keeps his mustard on the shelf, I couldn't get the thought out of my head that he's a mustard goblin, who puts it on everything, which is why he never puts it in the fridge.

This is the result.

Bucky walks into the kitchen of their shared house, not too far from Sarah's, the smell of something cooking drawing him in.

He finds Sam at the stove, humming a song Bucky doesn't know, but that's nothing new. He's got a fork in one hand, poking at something in the pan. With his other hand, Sam grabs the mustard from the counter, leans his head back, opens his mouth, and then squirts some in.

Bucky has to fight back a gag.

Then if that isn't disturbing enough, Sam grabs a cold hot dog from the abandoned package on the counter and takes a bite, humming to himself as he chews.

It's one of the more disturbing sights he's seen in his life, and he's seen some shit.

All Bucky can do is blink. He realizes he must have made an involuntary noise of disgust because suddenly Sam turns, still chewing, a touch of mustard on the corner of his mouth. He waves the cold hotdog. "What? I'm making lunch, want some?"

Bucky's eyes flick to the mustard, then to the pan, where he can now see Sam cooking hotdogs, and says, "You got mustard on your face." And he mimes where it is.

Sam grins, then his tongue peeks out to get it off. He says, "So lunch?" As he picks up the mustard, presumably to repeat his earlier crimes.

Living with someone, you learn a lot about them, and what Bucky learns about Sam is that the man is weird. Besides his addiction to mustard, putting the shit on everything, he also eats sugary cereal while sipping wine for dinner.

He's a walking juxtaposition, a total disaster that somehow decieves the general populous into thinking he's got it together. Sam is a mustard loving, wine drinking goblin, but Bucky wouldn't replace him for the world.

Instead of commenting on the repeated mustard injustice, Bucky grabs a bun from the table, walks over, and holds it out. "I'll take a cooked one, in a bun, because some of us aren't heathens. And I'll put my own mustard on, thanks."

"Sure thing, man." Then he squeezes a little more mustard into his mouth with a grin, probably just to make Bucky cringe because he's an asshole like that.

Bucky rolls his eyes, but takes his hotdog.

Sam's got mustard on his chin, and Bucky can't stop himself from reaching out and catching it with his thumb. He pops the digit into his mouth after, licking the tangy substance off.

This living thing, being domestic, isn't so bad. He kind of likes it, enough that he grabs the mustard, opens his mouth, and squirts some in, wanting to see what makes Sam so happy.

As he expected, he gags and sputters, and after spitting it out in the sink, he shakes his head and says, "Yep, you're fucking weird, Wilson. There's nothing good about that."

Sam laughs. "Whatever, give it back if you don't appreciate it then."

Bucky chucks it at him, Sam catching it easily. "I'll stick to ketchup."

[knuffled]

just practice - chapter thirteen

here’s it is! it’s a shorter chapter, but i hope to have chapter fourteen up within two weeks, so be on the look out for that! if you enjoyed the chapter, reblogs are greatly appreciated! it helps make the effort needed to write the chapters feel worth it! 

here’s the link for ao3

Takashi’s Batting Cage was a quaint, almost run down affair not far from Seneca Falls. The building was owned and maintained by an old Japanese man that had immigrated in the late sixties, and there was something about the place that made it feel like it was frozen in time. The walls were plastered vintage, hand-painted posters of bands like The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream, and The Shadows. Mr. Takashi himself often sat near the entrance with a cigarette hanging between his lips, polishing the wooden baseball bats that he had carved.

Behind him, there were two kiosks, one where you paid for rounds in the batting cage, and another where you could buy hotdogs made by Mr. Takashi’s wife, sold cheaply at a buck fifty. All you got was a bun, hotdog, minced onions, and a drizzle of mustard and ketchup, but Reyna had assured Annabeth that they were nothing short of life-changing.

The kiosks themselves faced a huge chain link fence that housed three pitching machines that whirred like projector reels. The fence was painted green and touching it was enough for the paint to flake onto your fingers.

To a newcomer, it didn’t make for a particularly impressive sight, but there was a warmth and coziness to the place that could only be experienced firsthand. Over the years, the batting cages had developed a devout following as a spot where anyone could go to have a good time. Spending even a few minutes there was enough to leave the impression that the place was well and truly loved, like an old baseball mitt.

Annabeth had never heard of the place until Reyna had suggested they hang out there the Saturday after Percy’s swim meet. She was therefore surprised to see the number of cars parked outside, although she suspected that that might also have had to do with the weather calming down some. Reyna was already waiting for her inside when Annabeth entered, leaning against the wall.

Once she spotted her, Reyna offered Annabeth a smile and said, “Hey, thanks for making the drive.”

“It was no big deal,” Annabeth said, unwrapping her scarf. “I couldn’t help being curious after how enthusiastic you sounded about the place.”

Reyna raised an eyebrow and her smile widened. “Oh boy, the pressure is on now, huh?”

“Just a little,” Annabeth said, grinning.

“Ooh, scary,” Reyna said. “C’mon, lets head inside.”

Annabeth nodded and followed Reyna to the first kiosk. There were families using two of the pitching machines, but thankfully they would have the third to themselves. A wooden sign was bolted to the kiosk, informing her that it was three dollars for five pitches. Reyna mulled it over for a short while before handing fifteen dollars over to the clerk and looking at Annabeth.

“I think we can start with that much and see how you like it,” Reyna said, shrugging.

Annabeth nodded and took a helmet from the clerk behind the kiosk before heading inside the cage with Reyna. They slipped off their jackets and set them aside on top of wooden bench that sat against the fence. The astroturf inside the cage was an oddly modern touch that felt anachronistic when juxtaposed with the otherwise retro atmosphere, but Annabeth didn’t have long to dwell on it because she was forced to move off to the side for Reyna’s first round on the machines.

Reyna slipped on her helmet and took a few practice swings before she stepped up to the plate and nodded to the assistant operating the pitching machine. The machine whirred on the far side of the fence and shot a ball towards them at incredible speed. Annabeth could barely even see the ball, but Reyna waited for the right moment and swung, making perfect contact. The ball cracked off the bat and sailed across the cage.

Annabeth focused more on the second pitch so that she wouldn’t make an ass of herself when it came for her to try as well. It was still almost faster than she could register, but even Reyna missed this time, which made her scowl. Although Reyna hit the three remaining pitches, she still looked peeved when she handed Annabeth bat at the end of her turn.

As she moved towards the plate, Annabeth couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of hitting a single ball. Her suspicions were confirmed when the first ball fired past her before she even had a chance to react. The second one was no better, but she could at least make out the course of the ball. She managed to swing on the third and fourth pitches, but she didn’t make any contact. It was on the final fifth ball that she grazed the ball with her bat, sending it shooting upwards into the fence.

She ignored the way her face burned and turned to Reyna with a wry smile. “I think I’m gonna need you to give me some tips.”

“Your form could use some work,” Reyna admitted, stepping towards Annabeth.

Reyna put her hands on Annabeth’s hips and turned her slightly. “Angle your hips like this. Turn your shoulders a bit more this way. Move your left hand a little further down the bat.”

Annabeth couldn’t help feeling flustered by how casually Reyna was shifting her around. She was exactly the most touchy-feely person. She was only comfortable with it when it was someone she knew really well, but she was surprised to realize she was far less uncomfortable with Reyna than she thought she would have been. Still, she couldn’t help wondering if Reyna was aware of what she was doing.

“Do another round. I’ll go after you,” Reyna said, stepping back.

Annabeht cleared her throat and nodded before turning towards the pitching machines again. She grazed the first ball again and missed the second one entirely. On the third pitch, she finally managed to make contact, but the ball didn’t travel very far. The fourth and fifth pitches traveled further each time, but they didn’t pop off the bat the way they had when Reyna hit them.

She paid even closer to attention to Reyna during her turn to pick up on what she was doing that Annabeth wasn’t. Reyna missed the first pitch but hit the four subsequent ones. Each one shot farther and farther across the batting cage, soaring higher and higher, almost like she aiming for something. It was then that Annabeth noticed that there was a wooden target tied near the top of the cage. Although Reyna was still off the mark by some ways, she got progressively closer and closer with each attempt.

Nevertheless, Reyna still failed to hit the target once over the course of the next half-hour, which was presumably why she suggested taking a break to get some hotdogs. Annabeth was more than open to the offer, albeit for different reasons. Although she was improving, she still wasn’t anywhere near consistent enough to hit the ball properly more than once or twice a round, and it was beginning to get frustrating.

Once they bought a pair of hotdogs, they sat down at a table facing the fence and watched the other families play while they ate. Annabeth wasn’t really a huge fan of hotdogs, but she had to admit that Reyna had been true to her word.

After her first, she turned to Reyna and said, “Okay, this is stupid good for a dollar fifty.”

Reyna gave her a knowing look and grinned. “I know right?”

“I’ve never heard of this place before,” Annabeth said. “How did you come across it?”

“I heard about someone at school talking about it, so I figured I’d check it out sometime. Seemed like a good way to let off some steam,” Reyna said, taking another bite.

“I don’t if it’s just because this was my first time at a batting cage, but this is a lot harder than it looks.”

Reyna laughed. “That’s because the machines here are faster than at other places. You’re doing really well for your first time, though.”

“You didn’t have nearly as much trouble,” Annabeth noted.

Reyna shrugged and said, “I’ve been coming here for years now. I barely got any hits my first time around either. You’re doing better than I did then for sure.”

Annabeth chased some ketchup threatening to drip off her hotdog. “That would be enough to turn most people off from trying again.”

“It rubs me the wrong way to be shitty at something.”

“A friend of mine who said he went to summer camp with you said you weren’t bad at anything,” Annabeth said, smiling.

“Really? Who?”

“Jason Grace.”

Reyna’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, I remember him. Nice guy. Almost thought I had a crush on him, but that was before I realized I wasn’t straight.”

Well, that was news to her. Annabeth raised an eyebrow and tried to stifle a smirk. “Really?”

Reyna’s face turned a gentle shade of pink, which made Annabeth’s grin widen. “I was like thirteen, okay?”

“I’m not judging or anything,” Annabeth said innocently. “Just thought it was interesting.”

“That shit-eating grin on your face says otherwise,” Reyna grumbled.

“It’s okay, we were all cringe at thirteen.”

Reyna snorted. “Cringe is a good word to describe it, even if it’s mean.”

Annabeth waved her freehand dismissively. “What Jason doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, he’s got a hot girlfriend now anyways.”

Reyna gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you sure you’re straight?”

“What was it you said last time? ‘I might be gay, but I still have eyes?’” Annabeth said. “Same thing, except other way around. Besides, jury’s still out on the topic of my sexuality.”

“Fair play, I guess,” Reyna rolled her eyes. “Speaking of last time, how are things with your fake-boyfriend going?”

Annabeth picked at the onions on her hotdog and said, “You are awfully interested in him despite hating his guts.”

“I don’t hate him,” Reyna protested.

“Thinking he has bad vibes is pretty much the same thing.”

“You’re doing a rather poor job not answering the question. Sounds like something must have happened,” Reyna said suspiciously.

Annabeth sighed and resigned herself to telling Reyna what had happened on New Years and subsequently at the swim meet. Despite her initial reticence, it was honestly refreshing to be open with someone about the whole fake dating arrangement, just like it had the last time they had talked. The main thing that had been bugging Annabeth recently had been how during the aftermath of the swim meet, she’d come face to face with the realization that she had actually been totally okay with the idea of Percy kissing her. More than okay, actually.

I could have stopped the kiss at literally any point if I hadn’t wanted it to happen. It was just as much my decision as it was yours, okay?

Those angry words of hers had kept echoing in her mind at random intervals almost every day. The fact that she had basically implied that she had wanted Percy to kiss her was an epiphany that she still struggled to make sense of. On the surface, she didn’t feel any differently about Percy, but it was the only explanation for why she had felt so disappointed on New Year’s Eve.

“That means I like him, right?” Annabeth asked aloud.

“Babe, you wanted to kiss him so bad you felt disappointed when it didn’t happen.”

Annabeth’s cheeks began to prickle. “I know jack shit about romance and relationships, so excuse me for not knowing.”

Reyna snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “This kind of goes beyond not knowing. It’s honestly kind of mind-boggling to me that you’re struggling so much with the idea that you might have a crush on someone.”

Annabeth pursed her lips and said, “I’ve been thinking the same thing too, lately. It seems like it’s natural for everyone else, but it feels so weird to me.”

“At one point, I thought that you were aromantic or something, but I get the vibe that it’s something else. Like, you dissect your emotions so clinically that you abstract them and save yourself from feeling them,” Reyna said.

Annabeth laughed despite herself. “Holy shit, that sounds exactly like what a therapist would say.”

“Fuck off,” Reyna said, bumping her with her shoulder.

Annabeth bit back a smile and said, “Not sure I totally understood you, but you’re sorta right. Only thing is, I feel all my other emotions normally. Just not this stuff.”

Reyna thought for a moment and said, “I don’t know, this is just me talking out my ass, but maybe you have some baggage about romantic relationships or something.

“If that’s you talking out your ass, you’re gonna make me feel real stupid,” Annabeth joked.

Reyna screwed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples. “I take back what I said about having a crush on you. Dealing with this level of sass gives me a fucking headache.”

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth said, holding back a laugh. “I’m usually the one getting bullied, so I couldn’t resist the opportunity. I promise I’ll try to stop.”

Reyna rolled her eyes and looked thoroughly unconvinced, so Annabeth leaned into her and said, “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? When I see you at the Olympics someday, I wanna be able to brag to people that you once thought I was hot.”

“Don’t try and flatter yourself out of this,” Reyna snorted.

“I’m not,” Annabeth protested. “I could totally see you at the Olympics someday.”

At this, Reyna was oddly quiet. Annabeth thought she had touched a nerve, but Reyna looked up at her demurely and said, “You really think so?”

Annabeth blinked. “Yeah, I do.”

A shy smile made its way across Reyna’s face. “Thanks, Annabeth. It’s always been a dream of mine to compete in them someday, so it means a lot to hear you say that.”

“I have full faith in you,” Annabeth said earnestly. “I’m sure you can do it.”

Reyna laughed and said, “What ever happened to wanting to beat me at a meet?”

“Oh don’t worry, you can still be an Olympian after I kick your ass at State,” Annabeth said casually.

Reyna raised an eyebrow, her eyes darkening. “Is that so?”

Annabeth coughed surreptitiously and turned to finish her hotdog. Reyna bit back a smile but otherwise chose to spare her by not pursuing the topic any further. The silence gave Annabeth time to collect her thoughts and dwell more on what Reyna had said. There was a lot to process, but one thing in particular had struck a chord with her.

“About what you said earlier, about me having baggage about romance and stuff,” Annabeth began slowly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt like being in a relationship was something meant for me. Not sure if I told you, but my mom left my dad and I when I was still a kid. She never explained why, but it really wrecked the both of us. Eventually, my dad remarried and moved on, but I don’t think I ever did. Move on, I mean. It’s hard for me to think about getting into a relationship when I saw what it did to my family, what it did to me,” Annabeth continued.

Reyna pressed her lips in a line and nodded. “My mom left our family too. I can understand how that would really affect your views on romantic relationships.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Reyna shrugged. “She had a good reason for it, so it’s whatever.”

She was tempted to ask Reyna more about it, but she was afraid of overstepping her bounds so she remained silent.

“I don’t know if it’s something I never wanted or if it’s something that I never allowed myself to want,” Annabeth said quietly.

Reyna was silent for a while before she said, “Does that even matter though?”

Annabeth looked at her with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Do you really get any value out of getting an answer to that question? Isn’t the only thing that matters what you want now?”

There was a pause. “I don’t want something that isn’t meant to last.”

“You have no way of knowing unless you give it a shot,” Reyna said softly. “Besides, what have you got to lose?”

“Everything.” Annabeth dug her fingernails into her palms. “I could lose everything. Percy is too important to me. I- I can’t lose him.”

Reyna was silent for a while before she said, “I don’t have any advice for you. I think, at the end of the day, it comes down to what you want and what you’re willing to risk for it. Only you can answer that.”

Annabeth nodded slowly and said, “Yeah. You’re right. I just wish it were easier.”

“Something tells me you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out,” Reyna said. “Besides, if all else fails, we can come here and you can hit baseballs as hard as you fucking can to get it out of your system.”

That managed to get a laugh out of her. “I might have to take you up on that sometime.”

Reyna opened her mouth to say something more, but then she looked past Annabeth’s shoulder and smirked. “Speaking of the devil.”

When Annabeth followed Reyna’s line of sight, she saw Percy standing by the entrance by three of his teammates from the swim team. One of that had said something that made him laugh, so he still hadn’t noticed her. She wasn’t sure how to feel about seeing him here, but she didn’t have long to dwell on it because one of his teammates spotted her and nudged Percy to get his attention.

Percy smiled once he saw her and gave her a small wave. At first, it didn’t seem like he would come over, but his teammates shoved him towards her, making him scowl.

He walked over and said, “Hey, fancy seeing you here.”

Annabeth cleared her throat and said, “Um, yeah, likewise. Reyna invited me here to hangout.”

Percy nodded to Reyna in greeting and said, “Hi, forgot if I ever introduced myself, but I’m Percy.”

Reyna offered him her hand and said, “Reyna. Annabeth here has told me a lot about you.”

He shook it with a bemused smile. “Only good things I hope?”

A sly smile danced on Reyna’s lips. “All sorts of good things actually.”

Percy’s questioning gaze flitted to Annabeth’s for a fraction of a second before immediately returning to Reyna. Though the way they spoke was casual, Annabeth felt a charged tension in the air, like anytime the two of them met. She assumed Percy was only going to make things worse until he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I, um, wanted to apologize for how standoffish I acted the last few times we met. It was a dick move, and I’m sorry about that,” he said.

Reyna blinked in surprise. “Oh, no worries. I wasn’t much better either.”

And just like that, the tension dissipated almost immediately. The two of them still looked awkward around each other, but the vague sense of hostility between them had faded. Percy’s apology had been enough of a metaphorical olive branch, Annabeth supposed.

“I know you came here with some friends, but do you want to try going a round or two in the cages with me?” Reyna asked suddenly.

Percy swayed on his heels. “Um.”

Reyna shrugged and said, “Just some friendly competition, promise.”

Percy looked to Annabeth for guidance, but Annabeth was just as clueless about Reyna’s motives as he was so she could only shrug. He mulled over it for a little while longer before nodding and following Reyna inside the batting cage. Before she joined them, Annabeth threw away the left overs of her hotdog and washed her hands to get the ketchup off her fingers. When she returned, Reyna finished slipping on her helmet and turned to Percy.

“We’ll do three rounds each, so fifteen pitches total. The person that hits that wooden target over there the most or gets closest to hitting it wins. Deal?” Reyna explained.

Percy nodded and leaned against the fence, next to the bench where Annabeth sat. They watched Reyna hit four of the first five pitches before it was Percy’s turn. Percy missed the first two pitches and only barely grazed the third one, sending it shooting upwards into the fence. He got decent hits on the last two, but like Annabeth, they barely traveled further than halfway across the batting cage.

Reyna hit four pitches again, and the last three sailed close to the target but fell just short. Percy’s next turn went much like his first. He managed to hit the ball each time, but the contact was too shaky to send it a decent distance. On Reyna’s last turn, she hit every single pitch, each getting closer to the target than the last, but in the end she didn’t manage to hit it. Reyna scowled when she stepped away from the plate and removed her helmet. Annabeth didn’t see why she was so upset. Judging by the previous rounds, it would be very unlikely for Percy to do any better than her.

Percy got good contact on the first three pitches, actually sending them all the way to the back fence, but they lacked the height needed to reach the target. On the fourth pitch, Percy’s grip on the bat slipped, causing it fly out of his hands instead of hitting the ball. His face was grim before the final pitch, but Annabeth could see that there were still traces of hope burning in his eyes. He had been subtly altering each of his swings in the last round, like he was testing something.

The pitching machine launched the last ball towards him, and Percy waited for the right moment before swinging. The ball exploded off his bat and shot all the way to the other side of the cage. Annabeth stood up from the bench and held her breath, watching the arcing trajectory of the ball. When the ball hit the target, barely off center, she grinned and threw an arm around him without thinking.

“Holy shit! You actually did it!” Annabeth beamed.

“Somehow,” Percy said, grinning. “I’m pretty sure that I just got lucky.”

When Reyna cleared her throat, Annabeth grew aware of how close she was to Percy, so she quickly disentangled herself from him, her face burning.

“You won, fair and square,” Reyna said, offering her hand again.

Percy turned to her and shook her hand. “I’m just glad I didn’t totally embarrass myself.”

Reyna rolled her eyes and said, “If anyone embarrassed themselves today, it was me. That was the second time I’ve lost to you.”

Percy furrowed his brow. “Second? There was another time?”

Reyna hummed under her breath, a twinkle in her eye. “I wonder.”

That did nothing to clear his confusion, but it was clear Reyna wasn’t going to elaborate so he didn’t press the issue. It was clear to Annabeth that Reyna was messing with him, but it didn’t seem malicious enough to make her angry. Still, she wished she knew what was going through Reyna’s head.

One of Percy’s teammates called out to him from the rental kiosk, so Percy thanked Reyna for the game and said goodbye to Annabeth before he left. Annabeth waved to him and watched him leave before she turned to Reyna with a frown.

“What was all that about?”

Reyna shrugged. “Nothing.”

“It was super obvious that you were messing with him,” Annabeth said, narrowing her eyes.

“Only a little bit,” Reyna said, smiling. “Don’t worry, it was just for shits and giggles.”

Annabeth pursed her lips. “Well, as long as you weren’t doing it to be mean, I guess it’s fine.”

“It’s nothing to get working up about,” Reyna laughed. “How do you feel about going another round?”

It was a poorly disguised attempt to change to the conversation, but Annabeth didn’t feel like pursuing the topic any further, so she sighed and said, “Sure, why not. About time I get my ass kicked again.”

[gureishi]

Ohhhh, requests? Requests!!!! ❤️

We all know and love SE and the Choi family (Mc, Saeyoung and Saeran living together in the bunker).... But what about. Other way arround?

Saeran after ending, with saeran and saeyoung making amends, and you finally befriending and getting to know the true person behind 707.

Im happy with whatever ideas you have for this, but if you need more guidance... A scene between saeyoung and Mc, talking? Saeyoung thanking mcfor making saeran happy and feeling like he failed as a brother for not protecting him, and mc being all sweet as she is reassuring him that it's OK and that they are happy now and just fluffy??????

Gosh, I wrote a lot, sorry.

Oh wow. I ADORE this request. Thank you for bringing me this sweet idea. ♡

I love envisioning their lives together post-AE, and it was so much for fun me to imagine this tiny little slice of that. 

after

Saeyoung & Reader (platonic); Saeran X Reader (background), G, words: 2355

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Today there’s one of those early-winter snows where the flurries get stuck in your hair but the ground’s not white and beautiful, just cold and damp. The parking lot is nearly empty—apparently no one else wanted to go out today. Personally, you can’t understand why. You love the way the sky’s a bright white and how the biting wind makes the tips of your ears pink.

Saeyoung, who’s been walking a few paces ahead of you, turns around in time to see you stop and catch a snowflake on your tongue. He raises his eyebrows; he’s got his hood up and there’s a light dusting of snow on top of his head, like powdered sugar.

“I was gonna ask if you regretted coming along now that it’s snowing, but I guess I have my answer.” He’s got a complicated look on his face, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to laugh at you or not.

“I have no regrets!” you sing, and then he does laugh, shaking his head indulgently.

“Come on,” he says. “Your shoes are getting wet.”

“Your shoes are getting wet. Also your head. Who goes to the store in just a hoodie in the winter?” But you run to catch up with him, splashing in the little puddles that have collected in the uneven pavement.

“It was the hoodie or the floor-length pink fur coat, so I went for the hoodie,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. 

The automatic doors slide open for you; he grabs a shopping cart from the assortment parked just inside the door. You walk beside him, feeling a little awkward. Grocery store etiquette, you think, is such a personal thing. Saeran, for instance, likes to go slowly through the store, lingering in each area—looking for inspiration, sometimes checking recipes on his phone. You like to move through the store at random, picking out items that strike your fancy. These methods work surprisingly well together—perhaps because Saeran finds it charming when you come running up to him with a strange new fruit in your arms.

Saeyoung, it seems, has neither a list nor a plan. He pushes the shopping cart lazily with one hand, heading vaguely toward the nearest aisle. You’re tempted to guide him in one direction or another, but you also don’t want to be a nuisance. This is his shopping trip—he was the one who announced he was going to the store; you were the one who’d insisted on tagging along.

“Are you sure?” he’d asked then, hesitating, one hand already on the doorknob. “You don’t need to! I can get whatever you—”

“I want to,” you’d said firmly, jumping off the couch where you’d been lying with your feet in Saeran’s lap, reading a book. It wasn’t that you needed anything in particular from the grocery store or that you didn’t trust Saeyoung to find whatever was needed for the house (though, in retrospect, it wasn’t that you did trust him, either). It was just…

In the few precious days that you’d been living in the bunker with the brothers—in a world that was suddenly so peaceful you couldn’t quite believe it—you’d begun to realize something: in spite of the hours of phone conversations and chats you’d shared with the enigmatic and charming 707, you actually hardly knew Saeyoung at all.

“So, uhhh,” he begins, a bit uncomfortably. You glance at him askance; his cheeks are pink. “What do we need, anyway?”

You laugh—you can’t help it. “What were you going to buy if I didn’t come with you?”

Saeyoung shrugs, looking down. He’s definitely blushing. “I was gonna…wing it.”

Maybe it’s his inexplicable shyness with you and maybe it’s your genuine love of grocery shopping, but your confidence is bolstered. You take the cart from him and he relinquishes it gratefully, falling into step behind you.

“First we’re going to get produce,” you tell him, and he nods eagerly, bouncing on his heels. He honestly looks excited that you’ve taken the lead; you make a mental note about this. At home, Saeyoung is often in charge—of little things, like what movie you’ll all watch together—because he is boisterously enthusiastic about everything and you and Saeran are more subdued. But here, without his twin, outside of his domain, he is suddenly much less confident.

You select a few types of squash; he watches somewhat reverently. “How do you know what to get?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Practice, I guess,” you say. “I have in mind a couple of recipes we can make this week, and there are some staples it’s always good to have…” You pause, realizing something, your hands full of squash. “Saeyoung, can I ask you something?”

“What? Yeah!” He responds a little too readily and you know he’s trying to mask his awkwardness. It’s endearing.

“You lived alone for a pretty long time,” you say thoughtfully. You survey the selection of cabbage. “Didn’t you…buy food? To eat?”

He laughs, runs a hand through his already-messy red curls. “God Seven doesn’t need food to live!” he sings, and it’s in the tone of the 707 you’d developed a strange friendship with during those days you were at Mint Eye. You know now that Saeyoung was there, even then, under all that false positivity and diversionary teasing.

“You do, though,” you tell him. You hand him a head of cabbage.

Your firm tone seems to quell him. He looks down at the cabbage. 

“I ate snacks, mostly,” he says, a little more quietly. “Sometimes Vanderwood got frustrated and brought me other things to eat.”

You turn away to hide the look in your eyes from him. These poor, poor boys.

“You two!” you explain in mock-frustration, pushing the cart to the next refrigerated shelf. “So you were living on junk food while he was keeping himself alive with caffeine pills. What am I going to do with you?”

Saeyoung bounces behind you, still holding the cabbage.

“Feed us!” he says. You roll your eyes and tear a plastic bag off the role beside the shelves. 

“Put the cabbage in the bag,” you tell him. He does.

You gather a few more fruits and vegetables and Saeyoung asks about all of them; you’re amused when he doesn’t know what a persimmon is.

“So besides chips and stuff, then, what do you like to eat?” you ask him, pushing the cart into the large, open area where meat and fish sit on ice, row after chilly row.

Saeyoung hums thoughtfully, peering at a particularly large fish, complete with eyeballs and everything. “This is creepy,” he says. “Can we get it?”

“We…can,” you say. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

He walks a little ahead of you, and he looks at each different type of meat with such curiosity. They’re both like this, you think—so full of wonder over basic, mundane things. Saeran was in awe the first night the three of you settled in on Saeyoung’s huge couch to watch TV together. And now here is Saeyoung—who’s had considerably more freedom than his brother—staring at an assortment of different cuts of meat like he’s in a museum.

“I’m not sure,” he says finally, tilting his head to the side. “I love chips, and, you know, fish-shaped buns…”

“But is there a meal you like? Maybe from, I don’t know, the past…?” You regret the words as soon as they’re out of your mouth.

Saeyoung laughs bitterly. “Not from childhood, if that’s what you mean.”

“Right,” you say. “Yeah. I knew that. I’m sorry.”

He comes back to your side, leans on the cart. “It’s okay,” he tells you. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say. “Sorry.” You steer the cart toward a display of different chicken parts and he pads along beside you—like an obedient dog, you think.

“What’s the difference between…” he bends over, peering at the packages. “Breasts and thighs?”

You giggle. “You tell me.”

You watch as his face turns red, clashing wonderfully with his hair.

“Um, l-let’s get the…thighs, I guess,” he chokes, and you stifle your laughter with your hand.

“Thighs it is.”

He throws the chicken into the cart with his face turned away and you grin. 707 was a tease, but it is easy to fluster Saeyoung. 

You move through the aisle of bottled sauces in companionable silence. You hold up a bottle of bottle of soy sauce and he nods enthusiastically; he does the same for the fish sauce and corn syrup. To test him, you hold up a banana ketchup—which you’ve personally never actually tried—and he gives you the same affirmative head bob.

“Saeyoung, do you know what this is?”

He tilts his head to the side, reads the label.

“Banana ketchup? Yum!”

You sigh. “Fine.” You toss it in the cart; maneuver to the next aisle.

“You didn’t even have soy sauce or salt or anything in your house when we moved in,” you say. “There was literally nothing in the cabinets.”

He strolls along beside you, running a finger along the rows of different kinds of pasta. “It never occurred to me.”

“We were kind of surprised,” you add, tossing a big bag of rice into the cart. “We bought a bunch of stuff, before we…left.” You stumble over the words; gears spin frantically in your brain. The words hang heavily in the air between you. Before we left to find you. Before we found you and then lost you again.

He’s silent for a moment and you know he feels the change in atmosphere, the way time seems to have slowed down.

“Hey,” he says finally. He’s got one arm draped over the side of the cart and his posture is a little stiff. “Did I ever thank you? I mean, properly.”

You bite your lip, keep walking. Your face feels hot. Suddenly, you’re not really looking at what’s on the shelves.

“You did,” you say softly. “But I feel I should be the one thanking you. You’re the reason we’re both alive, you know.”

Saeyoung stops, and you almost crash into him. He spins around, and he’s got a hard, determined look in his face. You’ve seen that look before. 

“No,” he says. “Nuh-uh. You saved us. You protected him. You did what I didn’t…couldn’t—”

Ah. Your heart’s pounding against your ribcage. Of course it’s here, you think—in this narrow aisle, next to hundreds of loaves of bread, that he’s saying this to you.

“Saeyoung, he knows that you would die for him. You tried to.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, walks away from you, lingers at the end of the aisle. The change in him is remarkable. There’s no hint of the awestruck boy, bouncing up and down over the wide selection of steaks, in this morose, bitter man.

“I didn’t succeed, did I?” he says. A mother with a small child seated in the front of her shopping cart comes down the aisle and you back up into the shelves to let them pass. You wonder if they can feel how thick the air is.

“No, you didn’t,” you say. “And thank god, because where would we be if you had?” He finally looks at you then, and you’re taken aback by the wild look in his eyes. It scares you; you take a step toward him. “You fought for him,” you tell him. “And he fought for you.”

His fingers drum a frantic pattern on the metal shelf beside him. He’s got the look of a cornered animal, ready to bolt. You’ve seen this expression before—though on a different Choi brother.

“I was supposed to protect him,” he says, so quietly you can hardly hear him. You take one more step. Another. Finally you’re at his side, and he flinches, but he doesn’t run away.

“You did,” you say. “And he’s safe. All of us are safe.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“We’re going to buy this stuff,” you tell him. “We’re gonna pay for it, and get in the car, and go back home, and he’ll be there. Waiting for you.”

Saeyoung shuts his eyes and takes a long, slow breath. You do it with him. He runs a shaky hand through his hair again and you give him a little nudge with your elbow. Eyes still closed, one side of his mouth twitches upward—a half-smile.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know.”

“I just feel like I owe you…”

“Me too.”

His eyes open; they’re clearer, bright and gold behind his glasses. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, and it sounds like a question.

“I love him,” you say. “So, I think I do.”

Saeyoung shakes his head; the color’s back in his cheeks now, and he grabs the cart, pushing it out of the aisle. You jog to catch up, grab onto the side just as he’d done earlier. Hold on tight.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” he says. You can see him in your peripheral vision—his eyes are twinkling.

“More than anything in the world,” you reply.

“Me too,” he says, echoing you, and you grin. You picture the look on Saeran’s face if he could hear this conversation—the way his green eyes would soften, the way he’d get that adorable little dusting of pink over his cheeks. 

Saeyoung turns the cart abruptly, maneuvering into the next aisle with an expertise you didn’t expect—you shriek, barely holding on. He cackles.

“We need this!” he says, and you turn to see him pointing at an alarmingly large box of some sort of purple cookie you’ve never seen before.

We don’t, you almost say, but you hesitate, because what’s the harm? 

“Sure,” you say, and you toss them in the cart.

Saeyoung smiles. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says. You know he’s not talking about the stupid cookies.

You beam right back at him. “I am too.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere  @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta @hunterelys

[nite-shay]

Surprise! (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

Funny little idea I had. Reader finds out she is prego and wants to surprise her hubby with the news :)

A/N: Nothing really. Charters are aged up. Female pronouns used. 

Hope you enjoy it and sorry for typos, grammar and spelling errors! :)

************

You were practically floating through your local market store's aisles, humming has you picked up items on your list.

Today was a beautiful day. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and nothing could ruin your mood.

Not even the grumpy old lady blocking our path, complaining to a stock boy about ketchup prices could bring you down!

Any why might you ask? 

Because today you got the best news in the world.

A few days ago, you went to your local clinic. You'd been feeling rather tired here lately and even a bit nauseous. You honestly thought nothing of it and just figured you had a stomach bug that'd been going around.

Image your surprise when the nurse on the other end of the phone informed you that you were not sick, just pregnant. 

It took a few seconds for the information to process, but the moment it does. Oh boy! You screamed and cried in pure joy to the poor, probably now partially deaf nurse on the other end.

After many thank yous and a few apologies, you practically hung up on the women wanting to call your husband imminently. 

You tried him on his cell and on his desk, but he must have been out on patrol. Meaning you wouldn't hear from him until much much later in the day

Damn. 

That burst your bubble, but that just gave a chance to be... well, creative in your news delivery method. You'd spent the last few hours researching and watching videos in the theme of 'Surprising the father baby announcements.'

And boy, oh boy, did you get some ideas! Too many ideas! But you settled on one method in particular. 

You smiled as you made your way over to the produce section.

Ah-ha! There's an item on your shopping list.

You reached out and grabbed two bags of baby carrots before tossing them into your cart. 

It would be a night your husband would never forget!

Later that night...

Let me start off by saying this. You love your husband. Very very much.

Your husband, Kirishima Eijirou, is the most wonderful man on the planet. He is an amazing and loving husband. He is also an amazing hero. Ranked one of the best in Japan and one of the friendliest.  The man is a literal saint who against all odds befriended Bakugou for goodness sake! You love him more than life itself.

Your husband is a lot of things but currently, you can only think of one way to describe your husband. In the words of the blonde explosive best friend, 'he has rocks for brains'.

Bless your husband's heart some days, he can be denser than his skin in his unbreakable form.

You expected him to overlook some of the food you made, BUT NOT EVERY FUCKING THING!

You made a spread of baby-related foods that could give a buffet restaurant a run for their money. You had it all, baby carrots, baby spinach, baby artichokes, baby corn, baby back ribs, fingerling potatoes, a cornish hen, deviled eggs, popcorn shrimp, you had it all! Hell, you even dropped a 'bun in the oven reference'. Twice! 

But did he see the pattern? 

Nope!

His only response was to stare/drool at the food and said, 'wow hun, if I'd known you be making this much food, I'd have invited Amajiki and Togata over'. Later on, he commented on how Fatgum would be jealous of the amazing food he's going to have for lunch tomorrow'.

While you appreciate the comments on your cooking. You could have strangled at that moment. 

Dense. Very dense.

You chanted in your head while he pigged out, 'I love the father of my child, and I will not beat him over the head with chicken' over and over for most of dinner.

As the night continued, you realized after watching both 'Boss Baby' and 'Storks' that you would have to take drastic measures to get it through his thick skull. 

Tomorrow, you'd bring out the big guns!

Maybe you should get Mina involved…

The next day…

"Hey, Red! Wow, what's with all the food?" Fatgum shouted as he watched the redhead placed another container on the table.

"(Y/N) went overboard last night and made a feast! We had a lot of leftovers, so I brought some of them in. Want some?"

"You bet I do! I love her cooking! You really lucked out!"

"Yeah, I did! I have no idea why she made so much food, but I'm ain't complaining!" He flagged over Amajiki, who just walked into the breakroom. "Hey, Amajiki! Join us!"

"T-thanks…." He shuffled over and eyed the spread of food on the table. "Um… Kirishima… was yesterday a special day or something for the two of you?"

"No, I don't th-WAIT" Kirishima had a moment of panic before checking his phone. "Nope. Our anniversary isn't for another few months, and her birthday was last month." He sighed in relief. "Man, Jiki, you can't do that to me. You bout gave me a heart attack." He took a bite of food. "Why'd ya ask anyways?"

"Well… it's just… this is a lot of food... And very...v-very… specific food that doesn't seem to go together, in a traditional sense…" The quiet man commented.

"What do ya mean?" 

Fatgum took a second look at the food before his eyes went wide. "I-I think I see where you're going with this Sun.." He put down his bowl while his redhead appearance just looked cluelessly between the two. "So Red, what happened last night?"

"Nothing really. I came home, and she made this awesome food, we ate, watched a few movies and then went to bed." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Did she say anything about her day, or did she seem like she wanted to talk to you about something?"

"No. I mean, she said she had an awesome day but didn't really say what was so awesome about it. She looked great! Like… I don't know, she just… had this.. glow? Yeah, that's the word. She just seemed to be glowing! I mean, I'm not saying she wasn't attractive before! She's drop-dead gorgeous, but I don't know, here recently she's just been…. Wow…" Kirishima's features softened as he thought of his wife while Fat and Amajiki looked at each other. The older man's eyes lit up while the younger dark hair man gave a half-smile. 

"H-has she been feeling ok?" Amajiki pressed.

"Yea-" He paused for a moment. "Well, she did say she wasn't feeling too good the other day and that she went to the doctor... She didn't say what they said, though.." He crossed his arms while he thought back. "Now that I think about it, she really didn't eat much last night, and I could have sworn I heard her throwing up this morning... But she  just brushed it off when I asked about it…"

"Did she say what she thought was w-wrong?"

"No, she didn't. I even asked her if she wanted me to stay home with her today, but she said she'd be fine. She did promise me she'd take it easy." He almost jumped up. "You guys don't think she's getting sick, do you? I know there's been a stomach bug going around…"

"Oh, it sounds like she got bitten by a bug, alright!" Fat couldn't keep it in any longer as he gave the redhead a wide smile.

"Seriously? What do we do? Wouldn't the doctors have found out if she did? Do you think it was poisonous?!?!" Kirishima jumped up like he was ready to take off back home to tend to his 'sick' wife.

"Easy Red." Fat roared with laughter. "She'll be fine, but she's going to be feeling the effects of this for the next…. I'd say nine-ish months…."

"Huh?" 

"Kirishima, I think you r-really need to go home and talk to your wife…" Amajiki interjected while Fat wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to control his laughter. Which he was failing at btw. 

"Come on, guys! I'm freaking out here! Is (Y/N) ok?" The hero pleased with them trying to get a straight answer.

"Eijirou?" Every head in the room twisted in your direction as you stood in the doorway. 

"(Y/N)! You're here! Are you ok? You haven't seen any weird spiders or anything around, right?" Kirishima rushed over to you as you made your way into the breakroom. You'd heard Fatgum laughing from down the hall and figured your husband was too far away. 

"Spiders? Wait, what?"

"Fatgum thinks you might have been bitten by a bug! How are you feeling? Do you need a doctor?"

"Honey. Sweetie. I'm fine, I've already talked to the doctor." You chuckled as you tried to soothe your frazzled husband. 

"You have? That's great! What did they say?"

"Well…" You trailed off. This wasn't going as planned. Your plan was to visit him in his office and surprise him with the little gift bag in your hand; from there, you hopped, he'd get the picture. The top item was a cute little 'I'm a riot' Red Riot baby onesie you in the merch store down the street. The next was a mini-set of red baby crocs. If he didn't get it at that point across, your last resort was the medical report from the doctor's office, showing that you were, in fact, pregnant. You made sure to highlight it, just to be safe. 

"I'm afraid you're just going to have to be blunt about it (Y/N). He's really not getting it. Congratulations btw the way!" Fatgum was chuckling slightly still as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"S-sorry if we mess anything up…" Amajiki mumbled apologetically.

"Thanks! And don't worry about Amajiki, it's fine! This works out better anyway!" You smiled over at the two before turning your attention back to the love of your life. 

"Congratulations? Wait, what don't I get? Babe, please tell me what's going on". The worry in his eyes nearly broke your heart. 

"Honey" You grabbed his face with both hands and made him look you right in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

His body stilled, and his eyes were wide. He just stood there staring at you for the longest time; you swear you could almost see the little hamster in his head go flying off its wheel and pinball around his skull.

"Eiji? Did you hear me?" No response. He didn't even seem to be breathing. "I think I might have broken him." You glanced over to the older man in yellow before returning to those crimson orbs.

You were honestly starting to get worried at this point. Was he just shocked? Was he happy... or... did he not want it? Finally, though, he seems to come back to his senses. 

Blink. Blink Blink. Deep breath in. Blink. Blink. Deep breath out.

"Y-Your…..preg...p-pregnant….."

"Yes. I'm pregnant." You choked a little up as it finally seemed to sink into that thick lovable skull of his. However, his expression didn't waver, and you still couldn't tell whether he was happy or not. 

"I'm… going to be a dad?" You could feel him start to tremble beneath your hands.

On no.. he doesn't... 

Your eyes started to water, but you try to keep your smile in place. "Y-yes. You are..".

"I'm going to be a… dad?" It was taking everything you had not to break down then and there

But then.. it happened. 

You watched as his face lit up with the biggest grin you had ever seen. His eyes glistened with tears until they streamed down his cheeks. "I'M GOING TO BE A DAD!!!!" Your pretty everyone on the whole floor heard his declaration, and before you knew it, you were being dragged into a tight hug and swung around the room. 

For the next hour, the two of you laughed, cried, and went around the ENTIRE building so your husband could tell everyone the news.  Afterward, you showed him your little gifts, and that caused another trip around the building so he could show off the baby items and, much to your embarrassment, the test results. 

Fatgum quickly realized that nothing else on the planet would get the red headed hero to focus on work right now, so he let him have the day off to celebrate.

After a round of visiting and phone calls to friends and family, the two of you were finally home. The moment the two of you were in your home, he pulled you to your bedroom for the most intense cuddle section you had ever had. 

"I'm... going to be a dad…" He whispered while gently rubbing your belly where.

"Yes. Yes, you are." You couldn't help but grin and give him a slow sweet kiss, which he gladly returned. 

"God, I love you so much…"

"I love you too. "

"Promise me one thing…"  Suddenly his gaze narrowed as he looked you in the eyes with a serious expression. 

"Anything…" You shifted, a little nervous in his abrupt mood change.

"If... If.." He swallowed hard. 

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Now you were worried. 

"If I'm ever that stupidly dense again, please, PLEASE, knock some sense into me!" You burst into a fit of laughter while he just pokes his lip out in a pout. "I'm serious! Get someone, anyone to knock me into next week! Tetsu, Bakugou, Hell call Midoriya! After everything I missed, I deserve a Detroit smash upside the head!"

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

[lovelyirony]

Could I get number 30 "Why is arson always your first answer?" With winteriron?

England wasn’t necessarily Tony’s favorite place to be. For one thing, Pepper always asked for some sort of collection of Burberry scarves, and Tony would rather die than step foot in a store, but Pepper is the one who makes sure he gets out of countries and into countries as discreetly as possible. 

For another, England usually means either expensive art or expensive jewelry, and art is a bitch to get out of an event if you haven’t worked up a back story for the last year, and jewelry is...well. People are bound to notice if it’s famous enough. 

This go-round, it’s art. A rare miniature of a high-society woman, someone Tony doesn’t at all care about. He has a buyer from the middle of nowhere Montana, and he’s not sure why a cowboy from Montana cares about this so much, but he offered a pretty steep salary for Tony, so here he is. 

The thing is this: Tony Stark is not known as a thief. No. He is known as a reclusive billionaire who only comes out of his house, like, once a year to mourn his parents. 

Except he doesn’t do that, that’s just the yearly walk that he lets them notice and take pictures of. 

Anthony Carbonell is known as an elusive thief who likes to make fun of every single agent of any organization that attempts to track him or the works that he’s stolen. It’s cute, honestly. 

Agent James Barnes is the newest hire at SHIELD Protection, which moonlights as an insurance agency. 

His newest job is one that no one else has managed to complete: capture Anthony Carbonell, and protect the newest artwork. 

It’s sending him to England. He has to wear a suit and everything, and he’s not exactly excited about it. 

All they know is that he’s dark-haired, is shorter than six feet, and has a penchant for playing practical jokes on the agents when they end up not capturing him. 

- 

Barnes touches down in England, follows one of their British agents to a safe-house, and gets out the tuxedo. 

God help this night. 

- 

Tony usually isn’t thrown for a loop when it comes to guests at high society auctions. Most everyone is publicly known, or at least known when they should be known. 

There’s a new man in town. 

Tony can’t deny that he has the nicest looks he’s ever seen. A jaw that won’t quit, eyes that seem to observe everything, and a tasteful bun drawn at the back of his head. He also fills out a tuxedo quite nicely. 

Something about him screams danger. Tony smiles to himself in his cocktail; he’ll keep his eyes on that man, so far as everything goes to plan. 

- 

Bucky can feel eyes on him, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s technically new to all of this, or if it’s because Anthony is here and he already knows. 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew as soon as he walked in that Anthony would be here, and he would be aware. But he’s not really going to focus on the people milling about. He sticks close to the miniature, observing the security measures. 

Or lack of. 

The security measures are barely there. If Bucky could cause a distraction in the room, or maybe pull a fire alarm, he could easily abscond with it. 

He assumes that’s why the band is in another room. He had read the reports that Clint had managed to nick; the band was supposed to be playing in the room, but an anonymous guest had suggested that the acoustics were better in a room adjacent. 

He’s pretty sure that Anthony had recommended that, wherever he was. It’s not like any of the rich people would have had common sense enough to call ahead and ask about the placement of the band, and take into account the arch of the room with the acoustics of a violin. 

It’s smart, honestly. Everyone is dancing, they want to notice what other people are wearing so that they can either discreetly copy them later or make a laughing stock of them in about six minutes, give or take, and no one will notice if someone who wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place slips out. 

He’s not exactly wrong. 

But Tony has been working for an exclusive catering company for two months. Very fun stuff. He learned that he will never want to eat another crab cake again, and he learned how to improvise descriptions for food that is essentially chicken fingers and ketchup. 

Barnes is looking for someone who looks like they fit in. And Tony does, just...not in the way that he actually knows how to do. 

If he was high society, he’d be recognized immediately; everyone still knows how Howard smiled, how Maria moved around the room with the practiced grace of someone raised to be a fun little accessory on your arm. 

Tony has both of those attributes, and if people actually noticed others, they would clock him easily. 

-

He got bold. 

Too bold. 

He was serving appetizers, and he offers one to the new guy on the block. 

“Care for one?” he asks, eyes timidly looking up, energy nervous. 

“Thank you,” New Guy says, and he looks at Tony directly in the eyes. “I appreciate it.” 

No one thanks you at events like these. 

And no one looks at you. 

This was the mistake. 

-

His features are umistakable, Bucky decides. The way his head tilted when he offered the food, the way his eyes look at his, and they’re not used to being looked back at. 

It almost fooled him. Almost. 

But most who work for the upper class learn early on from someone or another that you don’t look, even if you know that they won’t spare you the time of day. 

He’s tempting the odds, and he’s exactly the kind of person who would do it. 

Bucky has Anthony Carbonell’s face memorized, from the surprisingly warm brown eyes to the way he walks away. 

- 

Tony has blown this mission. He knows it. He fucking knows that SHIELD knows who he is right now. 

He texts Pepper, incorrect grammar and everything: 

tell guy job is over. i can refund him for inconvenience. 

what do you mean, over? 

been had. :( 

i don’t like that that’s your reaction. but get out of there, whatever means necessary. i can’t get you out of there until tomorrow morning, or i lose the deposit on your room . 

srsly??????? 

yes, seriously. the woman who let us rent it was very specific about two-day-stay. in the mean time, maybe grab a bottle of wine or something. how are you going to escape? 

well...

don’t you dare

-

Arson is an art that has to be carefully done, if you were wondering. You can just decide to do it, but you need to have some experience for it. 

Tony has. Kind of. 

He has a matchbook from a local hotel that he went into, and it’s been tucked into a pocket of his pants, and he is currently debating if he can actually finish the job or not. 

“Is arson always your first answer?” 

Shit. 

“Uh, smoke break?” Tony asks, knowing that it’s a Very Stupid Excuse because he doesn’t have any cigarettes. 

“Be real with yourself,” Barnes says. “You also have a very unfortunate British accent, as in it sounds terrible.” 

“My apologies if I didn’t work on it,” Tony says. “I’ve been too busy with...other things. Speaking of which, you’re new to SHIELD, aren’t you?” 

“You’re my first mission.” 

“How unfortunate.” 

“And why is that?” 

Tony smiles at him, and it’s disarming how genuine it looks. How genuine it is. (Bucky’s been able to spot a fake smile since he was seven and his mother let Mormons into their house. He knows a lot of things.) 

“Well, darling dearest, I’m going to make my escape.” 

“And you’re saying I can’t find you?” 

“Oh, you’ll find me. You’ll see me everywhere.” 

Tony then proceeds to kiss the ever-living hell out of Barnes. 

It is probably the best kiss of his life, honestly. 

And it leaves him dazed. 

Dazed enough that Tony only has a light jogging-pace as he makes his escape, stealing one of the various Rolls Royce cars that is parked underneath a brilliantly-lit lamp. 

- 

Bucky keeps thinking about that line, about seeing him everywhere. 

He doesn’t know what it means. He describes Anthony Carbonell to a sketch artist, they ask around, and then there’s Friday. 

Friday. 

It’s the day everything becomes clearer and yet infinitely more complicated, because Anthony was right. 

Tony Stark is dedicated to a more “transparent’ image for his company. He’s stepped into the limelight, and all the attention is on him. Everyone in the world is stalking his every move. 

It’s smart. Bold and risky if any former clients have seen his face, although Bucky has no doubt that he has enough money to make sure they go away quietly. 

It means that he can’t be touched. For at least one year, maybe two. 

God, it’s smart. Be so well-known that even the secret agencies would be found if they even attempted to reach you. 

- 

Pepper thinks Tony is God’s Given Idiot. 

Arson probably would have been the better choice. It’s not like the building didn’t have insurance, and it’s not like the fire would have lasted for that long. 

Instead, Tony has decided to make himself internationally known and request a meeting with the guy who could have ended his career, and still could if he talked to the right people. 

-

Sam thinks knows that Bucky is God’s Given Idiot. 

He agrees to the fucking meeting. 

It’s a well-known, public restaurant. It means that Barnes is going to be well-known, or at least photographed from an angle that’s unflattering. 

He should’ve debated, should have fought for a secluded place, or at least somewhere on their turf. God, that would’ve been an iota smarter. 

- 

They both sit down. Peruse a menu that neither are interested in. 

Bucky is wondering what the procedure is on leftovers. And if he’s paying for his own bill in this. He was invited, but with everything going on, he’s not sure. 

Tony sits across from him. Tony, with a now-distinctive goatee, an easy elegance, and a satisfied look in his eyes. 

“You amaze me, James.” 

“Bucky.” 

“I refuse to call you that out of respect for humanity.” 

“I don’t answer to James.” 

“Then what about another nickname, hm?” Tony asks. 

“Like what?” 

“Take your pick. You could be honey, darling, or love. Or something more creative, although if it’s kinky, I’d like it in writing before I refer to you in public with that, so-” 

“James is fine.” 

“Knew it would be,” Tony says smugly. “So. Let’s talk about the fact that you know my dirty little secret.” 

“I wouldn’t call it ‘little’, would you?” 

“It’s a hobby.” 

“Rich people steal shit as a hobby?” 

“Usually not with my methods, but yes,” Tony says. “They usually do it with the careful guidance of the IRS or some shit.” 

Bucky does a little laugh at that one. 

Their waiter comes out, jovially asks how their day is going. 

“Oh it’s going magnificently,” Tony says, peering up through violet-tinted glasses. “How is yours...Lincoln?” 

“Brilliant,” Lincoln responds with a large smile. “What can I get you to drink? Our seasonal cocktail is to die for, and if you’re not in the mood for a cocktail, the cider is simply divine...” 

It’s mundane conversation. 

Tony Stark is a thief who goes by (went by?) Anthony Carbonell, and he’s listening to Lincoln the Waiter talk about seasonal drinks and desserts. 

It’s kind of...grounding. Also odd. 

“And for you?” 

Bucky fumbles with the menu. 

“Uh...water? With lemon?” 

“Refreshingly good choice,” Lincoln says, grinning. “I’ll be right back with those, you two catch up on whatever you need to catch up.” 

Bucky nods, turning to Tony with an eyebrow raised. 

“So, what do we need to catch up on?” 

“Well for one, you need to use my name. It’s Tony, and I’m betting it sounds heavenly coming from you.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction. 

“Alright. Tony. What do you need to talk about?” 

“Keeping our little secret a secret.” 

“I’ve already told others about you.” 

“Who?” Tony asks sharply. 

Lincoln comes back with their drinks, asks if they need more time to decide. 

Bucky just goes for it and orders a plate of mini quiche-things that he’s not exactly sure he’ll like. Tony orders something with a perfect accent, because of course he does. 

“You do this often?” 

“Go out to eat? On special occasions, and every other Friday.” 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Touchy, touchy,” Tony says, unfolding his napkin. “But I...have a deal for you.” 

“And why should I take it?” 

“Because it’s going to benefit SHIELD in the long-run,” Tony says. “And they’re all about benefits, if the rumors hold up against them.”

“And what rumors have you heard?” 

“I’ve heard plenty, although I seem to recall one about a flooded pipeline and a Broadway performance being improvised.” 

Bucky shakes his head. 

“Not true? Damn...” 

Tony looks around the restaurant before his eyes meet with the captivating ones across the table. 

“I have a secret identity. So do you.” 

“And we’re against each other, aren’t we?” 

“Only sometimes,” Tony says. “I essentially steal shit because it’s either random or has a purpose.” 

“And the miniature job you pulled was what, part of a scheme?” 

“Hell no,” Tony says. “A farmer in Montana wanted to see if I could do it because the face vaguely reminded him of his great-grandmother. I also, as a principle, try to steal as much shit from England as possible.” 

That’s funny, so he laughs. 

“And what do you want from me?” Bucky asks. 

“Oh my darling dearest, I want a lot of things from you,” Tony leers. “I only want one thing from SHIELD. I want them to keep my identity secret without any strings attached.” 

“It doesn’t work like that.” 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” 

“Well, it is what it is,” Bucky says. “I’m not gonna get you what you want, but I think you knew that. That’s why I’m out here dining with you, and I’ll be in the magazines for what, about a week?” 

“And notoriety for all time,” Tony says. “Your face is known, or at least on the internet. You should be prepared for people to ask you to model, by the way. God knows that you could kill it on the runway.” 

Bucky is amused. 

“Aw, you think?” 

“Of course I do. No one is gifted with that amount of shock in their eyes and goes on life being normal.” 

“My, how flattering you are,” Bucky says. 

Lincoln brings their food. Tells them that they can take their time, but there’s the bill. 

“You know who I need to talk to,” Tony says. 

“Maybe I do,” Bucky answers, evasive as possible. 

“I know you got hired for skills, but if it was for lying, then this is child’s play,” Tony says. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. 

“It wasn’t for lying. It was because if I was about two hundred feet away, I could shoot your right pupil out and you wouldn’t even know.” 

“You think I don’t have my own tech encircling the city?” 

“No,” Bucky answers. 

Tony stops sipping on his cider. 

“Explain yourself, blue-eyed wonder.” 

"Because if you’re found out, it destroys every single reputation you’re going to have to build from the start, and the climb to the top is too delicate for that.” 

Tony sits back. 

“I’m impressed.” 

“Don’t be,” Bucky says. “But you’re going to want to meet my boss. I’ll take you to him some time this week, if you need. Or he can meet you.” 

“I doubt he’ll be able to.” 

- 

Okay so maybe Tony shouldn’t have said that, because there is a man with an eye-patch and a truly impressive trench-coat sitting in his office chair. 

“If that’s supposed to be an intimidation tactic, that’s what I learned for my ninth birthday with dear ole’ dad,” Tony says. “Literally none of them work on me.” 

“Then change your ‘visitor’ chairs, they’re damn uncomfortable,” the man says. “My name is Director Fury.” 

“Any first name?” 

“None that you need to know. Barnes told me that you wanted to talk to me about a deal.” 

“I don’t do deals.” 

“And yet you run a business.” 

“Noted,” Tony says, leaning on the window. “So. I want to keep doing what I do, and I want you guys to butt out of it.” 

“And why would we do that?” 

“Because it’s technically only making rich people sad,” Tony says. “And the occasional museum, but oh well. And, I can easily make your life worse.” 

“You think I haven’t been threatened before?” 

“Oh I know you have, what with your sparkling personality and charm,” Tony says. “But I’m threatening the whole of SHIELD. I have been in the dark for a long time, Fury, and as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t know half of what I can do. 

The only thing people really know is that I’m a genius and so was my father, but nothing else. Neat, isn’t it?” 

Fury doesn’t say anything for a moment. 

“What’s your deal?” 

“Glad to know you know what I can do for you,” Tony says. “I can provide security and make sure that every single person has the latest technological updates. I have one stipulation: I get to make Barnes a new arm.” 

“That’s your only condition?” 

“Oh, you’ll be grateful it’s the only thing I’m asking for,” Tony says. “Believe me, I’ll still be annoying. I can promise you that.” 

Fury looks at him carefully. Tony Stark is still a mystery, although he seems to overestimate himself. Or how much Fury can actually see about people. 

“Why Barnes’ arm?” 

“Why not?” Tony asks. “After all, he deserves an arm that looks as nice as he does.” 

“No in-work relationships.” 

“Consider me not an employee,” Tony says. 

“Then you’re not on the payroll.” 

“I don’t have to be paid to get what I want to get,” he remarks. 

Fury gets up from the chair (he’ll make a note to Maria: he needs something like it soon) and gives Tony a pointed look at the doorway. 

“You sure about this?” 

Tony’s eyes gleam. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” 

- 

Director Fury is not ready. Tony shows up in floral-printed shirts and makes sure to blast rock music wherever he goes, or worse, metal. 

Barnes has never had a good poker face, which is why he’s the sharpshooter. Damned man turns to goo whenever the billionaire struts onto their property. 

But he’s happy about his office chair. 

[randowolfwriter]

Rocking that Solo (Intro)- Hot Dog Dilemma

Just a little one-shot from my self indulgent Older Warners au. Might consider doing more of these if it gets enough interest. 

Summary: 

A hot dog vendor meets the strangest girl (or puppy) he’s ever seen. Little does he know, she has a few tricks up her sleeve. 

She was a weird child. Probably one of the strangest the hot dog vendor had ever seen.

At first, he figured she had really poofy hair tied back with a sparkly heart-shaped hair tie, but then she approached him and saw that it wasn’t hair, but a pair of really large ears. Rabbit ears maybe? Then he noticed that she appeared to be covered in fur, ink-black with the exception of white that covered her entire face with a red nose that looked awfully a lot like a cat’s. When she smiled, he noticed tiny little fangs that made up her canines, and when she stepped back for a bit, he noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shoes—she didn’t need any. Giant white paws were what she walked on all day, much bigger than her front paws that looked more like hands. Then the key indicator of her strange appearance was that she had a tail, a long black one that was hard to determine whether it better belonged on a cat or a monkey. She could have been an animal that just escaped from the zoo had she not been wearing a giant purple sweater with a jean skirt and asking him tons of questions like any girl her age would ask. 

Yes, this indeed was the strangest little girl the vendor had ever seen, and yet, this wasn’t the first time she had visited him that day.

“You seem like a pretty cool guy,” She beamed through what appeared to be a Liverpool accent. “I’d love to have your job.”

“What are you doing back here?” The vendor barked. “Didn’t I tell you to get lost?”

“But I know where I am, so how can I get lost?” The girl inferred.

“I told you, I’m not bringing down the price of a dog.”

“But ten dollars is a little much, don’t you think? If I ran a hot dog cart, I would give everyone in the world a hot dog, and then I’d have the rest for myself.”

“Listen, little girl?” The vendor leaned over, trying to size himself up in order to intimidate her. “Are you gonna buy a dog or what? I haven’t got all day.”

Not once did she flinch from the vendor’s harsh demeanor, instead she kept smiling with a glimmer in those dark beady eyes of hers. “Well, I probably won’t since they’re so pricey. I just thought you should know that one of your cart’s wheels is missing.”

“What?”

The vendor tried to examine the wheel from where he leaned, but unfortunately, he couldn't. It was one of the front ones, which led him to move his lazy self to examine it. Clear as afternoon it was missing, despite it was there this morning when he wheeled the cart through the park. He only had a few customers that day, and none had bothered to mess with those wheels. In conclusion, it seemed that not only was this little girl strange, but she was also a wheel thief.

“Alright, where is it?” He grumbled.

“What?” The little girl asked coyly.

“The wheel? What did you do with it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” He could hear his voice raise at the girl’s bewildered expression. “I know you have it!” 

“I swear I don’t-- well, I mean I don’t swear because Daddoo says it’s not nice to swear-- but I know I don’t have it. Here, I’ll show you.”

She then reached into the pockets of her skirt and pulled out a bunch of trinkets and trash she had collected over time. “See, I have a bobby pin, two pennies, a piece of lint, a heart sticker…"

As the vendor was preoccupied with the girl, another child appeared behind the hot dog cart. Just like the little girl, he had long ears that drooped like a puppy’s, white fur on his face that covered his black fur like a mask, a red nose, and beady black eyes that made him look more animal than human. The only distinction that he was more human than animal was a green sweatshirt he wore (yet he didn’t wear any pants.) The boy stuck out his tongue nervously as he watched the little girl prattle on to the hot dog vendor about the items in her pockets; it seemed like she had a lot for just two measly pockets.

Seeing that the vendor was distracted, the boy began piling hot dog packs, bratwurst packs, hot dog bun packs, small bags of potato chips, soda cans, anything he could get his paws on and threw them into a random sack that he pulled out of nowhere. Well, more like from behind him. But how he made a sack appear from nothing was really something. 

Meanwhile, the girl did everything she could to keep the vendor’s attention on her at all times.

“See, I don’t have it. I only take things that can fit in my pockets,” she explained.

“Fine, so you don’t have it,” the vendor grumbled once more. “But how is it that it hasn’t been missing all day, and then suddenly you show up, and it’s gone?”

“Don’t know. Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

The boy was taking an awfully long time. Every time he grabbed a hot dog packet or a bratwurst packet, his stomach lurched – the thought of eating meat was the bane of his existence.

Suddenly, the mustard bottle slipped out of his paws just as he reached for it, and rolled right in front of the girl and the vendor. To make matters even more awkward, the vendor stepped on the bottle and it squirted a dark yellow onto the pavement.  

“Huh? How did that get there…” The vendor turned and finally noticed the boy. The boy let out a startled gasp and shivered where he stood. 

“Um, hey! Wanna see me do a dance?” The girl chirped, trying to divert the vendor’s attention back to her. She then performed a couple of twirls seeing if that'd work, but it was too late. The vendor had already noticed the thief at his stand, her partner in crime.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?!” The boy immediately closed the sack and scrambled out of there. “You have to pay for that!”

“Run, Smakko!” The girl cried as she raced after him. As the boy sped off like a frightened hare and the girl caught up to him in seconds, it was clear that the two were related.

Twins.

She was the distraction, and he was what the hot dog vendor should have been looking out for. Now here they were, little dog-monkey rascals that were better off locked up in a zoo than running away with his product.

“When I get my hands on you two, I’ll make sure you’ll get what’s coming to you!” He roared after them. 

“But you have to catch us first!” The girl shouted with a giggle. 

All through the park, the vendor chased after them. The chase felt like it went on for hours with the kids’ insane energy and the vendor’s determination to get his product back. It wasn’t until the kids ran smack dab into an officer minding his own business that they were finally caught. Immediately upon collision, he grabbed the two kids by the scruff of their clothes and held them up like noisy kittens, mostly pertaining to the girl who kicked in defiance while the boy hung there like a wet rag.

“Are these two giving you any trouble?” The officer spoke in what also appeared to be a deep Liverpool accent. He sounded a little like Ringo Starr. For some reason, upon hearing the officer's voice, the girl settled down. 

“You bet! Those mongrels there stole my hot dogs!” The vendor exclaimed, pointing a large index finger at the two. 

“Not like you were using it anyway,” The girl spat.

“Those two need to be taken back to the zoo where they belong!”

“No worries, sir. I’ll take care of them,” The large officer said, eyeing each of them with a stern glare. “Now give the man back his dogs.”

The boy then handed the vendor the giant sack. It seemed lighter than what he thought it would be. “Well appreciated, officer,” the vendor thanked.

He gave the vendor a small wave, “No need for thanks. All in a day’s work."  Then he gave the kids another stern glare. "Let’s go, pups.”

For some reason, as the officer walked off with the two kids curled in his arms, they seemed too content for having just been apprehended. Well, the boy still had that fearful look in his eyes as if it was stuck that way, but the look on the girl’s face was one that was not expected; she seemed too happy. 

The further the vendor walked away from them, the more he realized that the officer himself looked kind of strange. He looked like any other big officer just patrolling the city and keeping the neighborhood peace, yet then he remembered his face...something was off about it. It was pale, almost like it was covered in fur, he had a big red nose, and he had beady black eyes, just like those kids…

Suddenly, he stopped and opened the sack to find that his cart’s product wasn't in there, just a bunch of stuffed rubber dogs that squeaked.  

He’d been duped. Those weird kids and that weird officer were all related and they made off with his hot dogs. He wasn’t going to let them get away with it that easily. The vendor ran right up to them, his face red as the ketchup bottles that were just stolen.  

“Thieves!” He screamed at them. “Who do you think you are?”

The officer then stopped and set the kids down, “Well, I know for a fact that I’m no Bizzie.” 

Suddenly, he tore off the hat to reveal pierced dog-like ears sticking out of a baseball cap that looked like it had been beaten up over the years, especially with that giant bite mark that ate half its bill. Long unkempt black fur-- or it might have been hair-- flowed past his shoulders, while some even jutted out from his hat. Underneath the uniform, he wore a blue sweater covered with a brown leather jacket, torn jeans, and giant white paws that he walked upon just like the two kids. In likeness, this man could have been a rock star had he not had the black and white puppy-dog face like the kids and stuck out his tongue to compliment the look. 

“What are you?!” The vendor shuddered in bewilderment. He couldn’t decide whether he was some mutated dog or probably the ugliest man he had ever seen.

“Why he’s my Daddoo, silly!” The girl giggled. “I’m Jojo,” then she pointed towards the boy identical to her, “and this is my brother, Smakko." Then she held out her arms and posed, while her brother seemed hesitant to follow suit. "And we’re the Warner twins!"

“I don’t care if you were the Olsen twins. I demand that you give me back my hot dogs this instant!"

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” the man referred to as ‘Daddoo’ asked, “but that wouldn’t happen to be your cart, is it?”

The vendor then turned to see his hot dog cart speeding right towards them. Without a moment to react, the vendor was hit right with the cart and sent flying down the path while the father and his children moved to the side just in time. Luckily for the vendor, the cart didn’t go right into the busy streets of downtown traffic, but it did crash him into a nearby tree, causing the poor man to see hotdogs flying over his head.

“Look sir, your wheel came back,” Jojo pointed out.

“Yes, I see that,” the vendor said dizzily, then passed out.

“Naughty kids,” the father scolded, “who taught you such awful manners?” Then a giant smile appeared on his face, his tongue sticking out once more. 

“Now what do you say to the nice man?”

“Thanks for the hot dogs, sir!” Jojo thanked with a wave. 

“Thank you,” The boy named Smakko only muttered.  

The hot dog vendor perked up from his short comatose just as the father, with both of his strange puppy kids, the girl clinging to him like a koala and the boy clutching the bag filled with his product, walked away. No doubt about it, this was a horrible day, both personally and economically. 

But really, why did it matter? The vendor's cart was surprisingly okay, despite the crash and the strange reappearance of the wheel. Not to mention, there was a lot more product than what the family made off with, but losing those profits was going to hurt him. He'd have to lower the price of those dogs, and bratwursts, and basically everything at his cart just to make up for the stolen product. 

He went to authorities about it, but all they did was laugh, except for one, who seemed to shake in his seat at the mere mention of puppy-kids. Like they were going to be any help. 

Eventually, the hot dog vendor had to shrug off this brash occurrence and continue with his business. People were still going to want hot dogs, and unfortunately be desperate enough to pay ten bucks for it. 

However, this strange moment like a fly in the ear returned to him one day when he was visiting his family. His nieces and nephews were busy watching an old cartoon that he remembered was on when he was a kid called “Animaniacs,” which was considered one of the greatest cartoons of the decade. Of course, he didn’t think much of it now that he was a man in his thirties, but during this particular viewing, there was something that stood out to him.

The three main kids, with those long ears, black-furred with pale white faces, those red noses, and those beady black eyes…they looked exactly like the kids that harassed him at the park. Not to mention, the boy wearing the baseball cap looked exactly like the timid boy who barely spoke a word during their encounter. The boy in the show brimmed with confidence compared to the shy nature of the boy who had the gall to steal his hotdogs, yet had his sister do most of the talking.      

Then another thought occurred to him. The father of those two children also wore a blue sweater, and his head was covered with a red cap similar to the boy’s in the show, except his was worn with age. Then there was that smile, that puppy-dog-looking face with his pink tongue sticking out as if to distract from the fact that he was a freak of nature. He also brimmed with tons of confidence. How could anyone go out in public looking the way he did, with that long unkempt hair, those piercings that bit at his ears, and the strange rock star vibe he gave off just by being near him?           

No, it couldn't be. But maybe? 

Could possibly the middle child, the hungriest, the quietest, and the wackiest of the Warner trio next to his chatty older brother and his sassy younger sister might have grown up into the man he encountered at the park? That strange man with his strange children who were also giant troublemakers like he was. Could possibly the father of those two twins might have been…

Wakko Warner?  

[bleedinghearthalstead]

SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 11. Post Bruised Ego. Crossposted on AO3, link on my blog.

They've come to realize that they're missing a lot of kitchen essentials and unless Jay is willing to dive into the tinned cans tucked into the back of one the cabinets, they are definitely in need of a grocery run.

It's been a while since they've been grocery shopping together. Since they're both barely home, their fridge rather resembles one of a bachelor than of a married couple, mostly empty except for condiments and random take-out containers and that old bottle of milk that probably went bad last week. But now that Jay is home with a broken hand, they've come to realize that they're missing a lot of kitchen essentials and unless Jay is willing to dive into the tinned cans tucked into the back of one the cabinets, they are definitely in need of a grocery run.

When Jay suggests that they go to Costco, Hailey raises an eyebrow at him. Jay is usually the get in, get what you need and get out type of shopper, so it really is a testament to how bored he is at home and it's only been a week. She doesn’t want to know what else he’s going to come up with in the next five. Hailey quickly makes a list of what they need – wow, they're apparently out of salt – and they're off to what she knows is going to be a much longer shopping trip than she had planned for.

They've barely stepped foot in the warehouse and Jay has already wandered off towards the electronics on sale, leaving Hailey with their cart. She thinks about calling after her husband, but she just rolls her eyes at him and keeps walking towards the food section in the back. He better not be looking at that 70 inch TV that he was talking about with Will the other night. Hailey methodically goes down every aisle – if they're here already, she might as well make the most of it and find some of those hidden sale items. She remembers going shopping with her mother, one of the few things she and her mother did together – just the two of them since her brothers hated it – and they’d make a fun game out of it, doing a treasure hunt for those elusive limited offers. She’d run ahead of her mother, ducking and jumping, running back and forth the aisles, trying to glimpse the highlighted price signs. Both of them would rejoice every time Hailey found a treasure. She marvels at how fondly she looks back at such a mundane thing as buying groceries.

Half an hour later Hailey finds Jay in the cereal aisle, one-handedly pushing his own cart, already filled with all kinds of things. "Jay!" She walks over to him, her eyes widening at what is in his cart. "What in the world…"

"Oh hey, babe." Jay gives her a blinding smile and throws two large boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into his cart.

She rummages through the items he’s gotten so far and they definitely do not need 1,875 q-tips or 200 trash bags or that tub of 115 dishwasher detergent pacs. And is that a 2 pound tin of peanuts? She spots something blue and silver at the bottom of the cart and she scrunches up her nose in disgust. "Oh God, is that a 24-pack of Red Bull?!"

"Leave it," he laughs and slaps his wife’s hands away.

She sees that he’s also already been to the meat section and got two whole chickens, four racks of ribs and what looks like ten pounds of ground beef. "Who’s gonna eat all of that?"

Jay shrugs and scratches the back of his head. "I thought I’d invite the guys over for a barbeque." And now she knows how bored Jay really is, if he’s willing to cater for eight guys who eat like they’re bottomless pits, with a broken hand no less. Hailey sighs, knowing that this is going to happen whether she wants it or not.

"Alright," she huffs and looks through the rest of his cart – there's burger buns, but there's nary a vegetable in sight, and no, she’s not gonna count the massive glass of pickles. "How about some sides and some other drinks?"

Jay’s brilliant smile is back and he leans down to peck her on the lips. "You’re the best."

In the hopes of speeding things up, Hailey types out a list on her phone and Jay’s phone pings a few seconds later. "You get those things and I’ll get the rest. Meet at checkout in twenty?"

He looks at the items she sent him and nods, checking his watch. "Copy that."

"Oh," Hailey stops him with a grin, "and can you get me some tampons when you get the toilet paper?"

"Orange or green?" Jay sticks out his tongue at her. He knows she tries to catch him off-guard sometimes, but honestly, it's not the first time he got her tampons and it's not like he minds.

She winks at him. "Yellow."

"Yes, ma'am." He'll get her some tampons, she'll see.

On her round to get the last few things on her own list (a.k.a. the things that they were actually planning to buy before they got here), she catches Jay stuffing his face with food samples four times, and every time he waves and yells at her to try this or that with his mouth full. And every time she pushes her cart quickly down the next aisle, shaking her head at his antics.

After she gets everything they needed, she gives him the full twenty minutes and another ten afterwards just browsing through the store before she goes to checkout, but her husband is nowhere to be seen. Hailey tries calling him, but it just keeps ringing until it goes to voicemail. Sighing, she guesses that Jay got lost somewhere in the cheese section, looking for the feta cheese that she put on his list. Waiting for another five minutes, Hailey decides to pay and get a sundae from the food court while she waits for him.

"Babe, over here!" She hears his voice as soon as she’s past the cash registers, surprised that he beat her to the food court. He’s holding a half-eaten hot dog in his right hand and balancing another one on his cast, a soda cup tucked into the crook of his elbow. Jay looks like a food spill waiting to happen, so Hailey hurries towards him, saving the hot dog that is precariously perched on his arm.

The toppings are piled high and there’s extra sauerkraut, just the way she likes it. She smiles up at Jay and thumbs away a drop of ketchup from the corner of his mouth before she stands up on her tiptoes and gives him a quick kiss. "Thanks, babe."

He raises an eyebrow at her when she takes her first bite. "Who said that one’s for you?"

His wife giggles and retorts with a raised eyebrow of her own. "Let’s see you try and take this away from me."

"Oh no," Jay laughs, "I'm only gonna make that mistake once." He finishes the rest of his hot dog in one bite – his cheeks comically bulging as he chews – and washes it down with a couple of big gulps of soda. He takes Hailey’s cart and leads her to where he left his while she eats her hot dog.

"Hey, Raymond," he walks up to an employee, "all good?"

"Yeah, man, your carts are over there." The guy points at two carts (he did say carts, as in plural, Hailey thinks) that are pushed against the wall next to him.

"Thanks, buddy." Jay fistbumps the guy and pushes Hailey’s cart over to the others.

Hailey almost chokes on the bite of hot dog in her mouth. The last time she saw him half an hour ago, he had one cart that was already ridiculously full and he walked out with two? She doesn’t even know how Jay did it. It’s hard enough to push two carts by yourself, but he can’t even hold on to the other one properly with his cast? And how did he even get the stuff in the cart? She forces herself to swallow down the bite and blurts out, "What the fuck?"

A woman with two little kids walking by glares at Hailey and Jay snorts loudly. She doesn’t even notice, still staring at Jay’s two overflowing carts. One of them is definitely the one that she saw him with, only now thirty rolls of toilet paper and about 300 tampons stacked on top. The second one is loaded with three 24-pack trays of beer, three big bottles of bourbon, a six pack of Coke bottles and a gallon of orange juice. And it’s all piled on top of a…

"Is that a mini fridge?!" Hailey's voice goes up an octave. She turns to Jay who looks at her like the cat that ate the canary, big grin and all. Jay bought a mini fridge. Hailey pinches the bridge of her nose, but can't help the laugh that escapes her. She knew one of them was going to buy something they didn't need, but this definitely beats the yoga pants and sports bra that she treated herself to.

"It's actually a stainless steel cooler on wheels," Jay explains proudly. "It's got its own bottle opener and cap catcher."

Laughing out loud, she hands her half-eaten hot dog to Jay who gladly takes it and continues to wolf it down. She pats his good arm. "Honey, you get all of that stuff in the car, I don't care how."

"And what are you gonna do?"

"I’m getting a sundae," she announces and walks off. Behind her she hears Jay roping that poor guy Raymond into helping him with the carts. Then she hears him call after her. "Babe! Get me a strawberry sundae too!" She shakes her head with a smile and gets in line.

[onelamewriter]

Suga, Daichi, Tanaka, and Noya with a S/O who’s Great at Volleyball

Request: Can you do suga and daichi + tanaka and nishinoya with a seemingly lazy s/o that somehow turns out to be a very experienced volleyball player? Thanks!

A/N: This ask spoke to me on so many levels sjkjsksjsk. Hope that my brief days of volleyball but constant lazy mood serve for something (was that a pun???). I tried to make the reader gender neutral, failing if you squint. Enjoy and send requests!

Sawamura Daichi

Daichi was already very well aware of your reluctance to do, well, any physical activity. And while he tried to get you to do some exercise and accompany him on his morning runs, he didn’t pry much more.

So one day the team is in desperate need for practice due to a practice match with Nekoma approaching, but their gym is under maintenance and therefore unable to use.

And since the basketball team + girls volleyball gym is also under their use constantly, they can’t borrow theirs either.

Coah Ukai tells them to call it off and not to worry, that that’d do no good and it’d be better to not stress themselves out too much. Advised them to practice a bit on their own until the gym is fixed.

But Daddychi is stressedichi because they still have some things to tune, try new tosses and spikes and uughhh they can’t do that without a proper place.

Daichi comes home to you after the terrible announcement is made, looking very disheartened and glum as he repeated the news to you.

So you, being an amazing partner, offer him and his team a place to practice — a gymnasium no one uses anymore very close to where you live.

Daichi is just so happy that he doesn’t even questions how you know it, just to tell him a day and time to take the team there.

So the day arrives, you wait for Daichi and his team at the gates and right after school the volleyball team is following the ever leisure you like a group of ducklings.

After an uphill trek to the place, the boys found themselves in front of a large gymnasium with just a little bit of rust at the walls and some foliage, but otherwise in a good state.

You open the doors with the key (which should’ve been a clue) and once inside you turn on the lights, revealing a surprisingly clean training area, with nets, scoreboards and such. The team gaped, since the inside certainly didn’t looked like the outside at all, but you shrug them off and usher them to get started with practice, and so they do.

You just lean against the wall near the doors, arms crossed over your chest with a watchful eye on each of them as they do their thing, often dropping some tips and corrections here and there, and that’s when Daichi is like ??? cuz everything you’re saying is,, accurate and makes sense and the boys are getting better???

So as they’re taking a break Daichi comes up to you and asks you how do you know so much about volleyball, sure he’s talk to you about, maybe even tried teaching you a little, but none of the advise you gave were remotely similar to the simplistic stuff he’s told you.

And when you very nonchalantly tell him you used to be in a top team??

“Come again?” Daichi dumbly uttered, an absent smile on his face as though he didn’t quite understood.

“I used to be part of a team,” You repeat, an amuse smirk making its way to your face as your boyfriend’s eyes widen considerably. “We used to be real good too, almost a Shiratorizawa level in the rankings of Miyagi and all.”

“You— I— you were in a—” Daichi sputtered, eliciting a laugh out of you as he took a deep breath to recollect his thoughts, waiting until your laughing fit was done to squeak out a, “How?”

“Eeesh, you think so lowly of me? I’m kinda hurt, love.” You feign a hurt expression and press a hand to your chest to emphasize to fake whole in your heart. Chuckling as he tried to backpedal on his wording and scramble to spew apologies to you before you cut him off with a lazy wave. “‘S fine, can’t blame ya,”

Daichi breathes out a sigh of relief before actually asking something. “You... keep saying used to, why aren’t you playing anymore?”

“We got to nationals and that was it for me, I guess.” You answered, glancing at your shoes and missing his eyes widening once again. “That was kinda my one goal, and after that was done I guess I was too. Heh, the team’s still wanting me to rejoin them, but it’s too much of a hassle.”

“You don’t like it anymore?” his question came a bit too sharp, and it certainly hit a cord in you from the way you flinched slightly.

“That’s...” Seeing as you sighed wearily, Daichi took it upon himself to voice his thoughts, leaning on the wall right beside you where your arms were grazing each other. “I think you still do.”

“Huh?” You breathed out, eyebrows lifted

“You seem to know a lot, possibly more than I do, and you’ve gone to nationals, that’s one heck of an achievement!” He complemented, leaning forward so he was making eye contact with you and nodded to the court. “You can help us a lot, and I’m sure our advisor and coach would appreciate it. Plus, from the way you kept looking at our plays... I think you still want to play volleyball— and I get that!”

“But... If you decide to go back in court with your team, just know that I’ll be supporting you all the way!” He gave you a warm smile, one of those he reserves for you and you only, and you couldn’t help smile back, although understandably mellow, and nodded with a quiet okay. “I think we have to get back into practice, before Kageyama bonks Hinata on the head again,” he sweatdropped, snapping his head to you with a half-heartedly stern expression. “You have to tell me more about your sport days though. Everything in detail!”

You couldn’t help the joyous laugh that escaped your throat at his order, and waved him off. “Sure sure, now go save your decoy, Captain,” And as he went to separate the oddball duo, you smiled softly to yourself in thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad...

Sugawara Koushi

Sugawara’s another one who tried to get you to do some physical activities, but much more playfully than Daichi’s attempts. But after he noticed you wouldn’t budge from your position in bed or the couch (depending on he day) he very quickly gave up and decided to tease you about it and cuddle with you, because he is a man of culture.

The two of you got to Karasuno, so you were often waiting for him after classes either outside or inside the gym (depending on whether you felt like napping or not). He also told you many times to go home and eat something and not wait for him until three-thirty.

On this particular occasion you found yourself inside watching the boys (mostly your boy) practice, secretly taking mental notes about their plays and forms. You internally cringe at the horrible receives their current ginger boy has, and the salty french fry too. Huh, should I have fries today...? Oh, that sounds good... Ketchup and all...

You were so lost in your own world controlled by your empty stomach that you didn’t noticed Hinata missing a receive and the now stray volleyball coming straight at you.

Almost.

Because when you hear Sugawara’s call for your name and look up from the ground, eyes locking into the incoming ball it’s like if a switch just flipped.

You immediately stick your arms out, body lowered into a semi-crouch yet face blank as ever, the satisfying bang of the ball hitting your forearms resonated throughout the gym, and the familiar sting on your forearms becoming dull fairly quickly. You watch the ball bounce off your arms and into the woodplanks.

Suga (and everyone else) is just,,, w hat??? because you, the one person in PE who uses the excuse of “I stubbed my toe,” to not stretch, just did a perfect receive and like??? now you’re just picking up bag and leaning against the wall again like it didn’t just happened???

“WOAHHH!!! (L/n)-san!! How’d you do that?!” Hinata asks as he hops around you, stars in his eyes and pumping his fists. “The ball was like ‘whoosh’ super fast! But then it went like ‘bam!’ when you received it! And then it went ‘pom!’ when it touched the ground and then—”

“Hinata get off their face, dumbass!” Kageyama scolded the tangerine, holding him by the back of his collar. “Plus it went ‘pom’ first and then ‘bam’, boke!”

“Shouldn’t you be apologizing for almost hitting them, Shrimpy?” Tsukishima snickered, picking the ball you just received. However you cut off the ginger’s attempt apologies with a lazy wave and a yawn.

“Don’t worry. I’m used to receiving harsher stray balls than that,” You nonchalantly said, causing the him to comment a “So cool!!” while the older teens just stared at you bug-eyed.

“Wh-wha— (Y/n) how do you know how to make a receive like that??” Sugawara squeaked, he nearly had a heart attack at the thought of a volleyball hitting your unsuspecting form, but now he’s ????

“Oh, I sometimes go to a volleyball camp my uncle owns on summer break. Been going there since I was little.” You scratch you arm, the stink spiking up a tiny bit. “Is practice done now?”

Now Suga’s even more bug-eyed but soon practice is finished and you and your boyfriend are walking home alongside the team (since Daichi said he’d invite you guys some pork buns and— well, who are you refuse free food?). But the earlier events are still on their head, so they question you about it.

“Oi, oi! You should teach these two how to receive, see if they get better at it!” Tanaka exclaimed while poking the blond and ginger first years on the cheeks, the former swatting his hand away while the latter wholeheartedly agreeing.

“I don’t have the energy for it though... I’d get sleepy real fast.” You said, looking between you and Suga to your intertwined hands, swinging them absently as you went.

“(Y/n),” Suga got your attention while the others continued their shenanigans, fake teary eyes and a cute pout on his face. “Why’d you never told me you played volleyball? Of all the times I’ve asked you to do something with me??”

“I don’t play, I just know how to.” You shrugged, looking down and squeezing his cold hand. “Plus, cuddling seems more fun than playing that all day...” you muttered that last part with a light pink blush on your cheeks, and so he couldn’t stay ‘mad’ any longer, cooing internally at your bashful confession.

Suga then pecked you cheeks, “I guess we can do that once we get home then,” He watched in amusement as they only grew darker in shade at his affection, eliciting an awed sound from him as he pinched your cheeks.

“K-Koushiii...”

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

He finds out through a practice match! Your school against Karasuno!

So, Tanaka here, my boy, was really pumped for this match because both Ukai and Takeda have been hyping them about this top school they’d be facing, but through his elation the name of the school might’ve slipped past him, so he was unaware that it was your school.

You just leaned on your hand as he vividly explained you how he was gonna beat the other team, and since he was already used to you mellow and quiet reactions he didn’t think much of it and kept rambling on — sort of why the two of you were such a great balance to each other, your lethargic nature being dragged around by Tanaka’s energetic activities, his own boisterous persona  taking it down a notch by your gentle coaxing (read: kisses).

You see, you already knew your school was facing off against his —after all, you were the one to request it in the first place — but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise yet and kept quiet, inwardly laughing to yourself when Tanaka imitated a spike and kept with his demonstration.

The day of the practice match comes around and soon the rival school knocks to their door, bowing to thank them for having them and to have a good game. When they straightened their posture though, Tanaka stares at one of the players that looks oddly familiar.

Blinks one, twice, thrice... and then literally reels back in pure shock, mouth hanging open.

(Y-Y/N)?!?” He gasps loudly and dramatically as you give him a lopsided grin and a peace sign.

“Osu,”

“Buh — BUT HOW?!” He sputtered, earning a disapproving look from Daichi.

“You really didn’t know we were facing their school?”

“W-well, no! But — ugh,” Tanaka snapped his head to your still grinning form, you caught on quickly to his frustrated yet still shocked expression and put your hands up in mock surrender.

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” You stuck your tongue out. “As captain,I can’t gave all my cards shown.”

“CAPTAIN?!”

“This is so good,” Suga stifled a laugh, choosing to shake his head and place his hands on his hips. “I am a bit surprised though, didn’t thought (L/n) here would be a pro player— ah, no offence!”

“I really don’t think you can offend this bozo with anything, really.” One your vice captain said, nudging you with their shoulder as you stupidly nodded your head in affirmation.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it myself, but I guess the element of surprise is gonna make us wipe the floor with ya in your own turf.” Now that got him perked up and shoved his fleeting soul back to his body, and it also sparked the flame o rivalry within the other boys. Without further ado, the match started and Tanaka was left speechless.

You were a Setter and your skills were nothing short of spectacular, both a a player alone and as a captain, and it showed in the way you managed to get your Ace past Asahi’s and Tsukishima’s blocks in the first minute of the second set, simultaneously inspiring the rest of your team to fend off against their tricks.

The many times your Libero and blockers shut down Kageyama’s and Hinata’s quick attacks took its toll on the boys and morale. Tanaka might’ve gotten distracted by your perfect form and leadership skills a few times, all of which he had to be snapped out of by Daichi.

In the end, you guys played a total of three matched, with your team winning the first and last ones. At the end of it all the coaches allowed both teams to mingle and bond, while yours gave some pointers and corrections to Karasuno, which most of them took wholeheartedly (you felt Kageyama’s glare-like-stare on you while so), all the while Tanaka stayed by your side and followed you like an adoring puppy.

“What is it?” You questioned and finally directed your attention to him as you waited outside for any signs of your bus to pick you guys up.

“You’re amazing,” Tanaka breathlessly answered, sparks in his eyes as he stared at you admiringly. “Oh my god, my s/o’s amazing...” he repeated quietly to himself, as though not believing it. You laughed aloud, not surprised by his impulsive replied but nonetheless bemused.

“Well, I couldn’t really go half-assed when passion is in everything you do. Your team’s pretty strong, so I’d have to watch out for you guys down the road.” He nodded vigorously and kept gushing about your skills, you returning each compliment with one of your own in a more lax manner. Once your bus arrived and the teams were formally bidding each other farewell, you sneaked a quick peck to your boyfriend’s unsuspecting lips.

“We oughta chat a bit more later, ’kay?” and with a final wave to your blushy, swooning boyfriend, you boarded the bus.

Nishinoya Yuu

Also through a game, but this time it’s an official one! Qualifier of the Miyagi prefecture representative for Nationals, at that.

First off, you and Nishiyona? Definition of opposites attract. Like, I’m not joking when I say the boys vb team was shooketh to their core when you sluggishly arrived at the gym one day and asked for Noya, saying he was you boyfriend.

You were pretty surprised yourself when he confessed too, considering he didn’t seem to like your lethargic, lackluster attitude that much. But according to him, “The way your eyes light up when you speak about things you’re passionate for makes up for your lack of everything else!”

And you were like, “lmao ok, let’s hang”

But all that is beyond the point! The focus here is: Noya really, really, really wanted you to come see him play in the qualifiers, seeing as you’ve missed pretty much his other big games and most matches so far, under the same excuse that you already had a prearranged event that couldn’t be postponed nor that you could miss.

While very whiny and pouty, he understood and let it slide (under the deal tat you gotta pamper him in kisses before he departs and to wish him good luck every five minutes (tops), to which you agreed humorously).

So the qualifying day is here and, under a close call, Karasuno comes out on top and the team decided to stay and watch the other matches. They sat on the bleachers of the gym and watched the ongoing match in analytical silence as they ate a few snacks.

Honestly they were... worried about this. The team that came out the victor would be the team they’d face, and one of them was destroying the other in this last set. 10-24, that’s painful to bare.

However Noya’s eyes were glued to one player, who if he had to guess, seemed to be the Ace of the winning team and an Opposite Hitter from the amount of points they’ve scored. Zoning in their oddly familiar (h/c) hair, sluggish movements whenever they were in the back row, yet never switched out for the Libero.

Karasuno was sitting in their side of the court, so he couldn’t see their face too well, but as the Ace jumped to score the final point, and turned around to face their cheering teammates, he felt his eyes widen like saucers,

“(Y/N)?!” Nishinoya shouted over the cheering of the crowd the team, but it still caught your attention at the sound of your name in the familiar tone you’ve grown accustomed to.

Encouraged by the call, you turned to look over your shoulder slowly, half-lidded eyes widening a fraction as you locked eyes with your gobsmacked boyfriend’s, his team’s nervous inquiries falling flat.

“Yuu...?” You slowly twisted your body fully to acknowledge him. He must’ve won his match then...

That’s when it dawned on you; Noya had won his match, and you did yours, that means you will be facing one another for the last round before the finals. Neither of you were going to let up, you both knew that, you also knew the barrage of questions he’ll throw your way the second you’re free were just as impending.

So, as tired and sweaty as you were, you raised an arm and five fingers, duly noting the cameras following your movements, more focused on the way Noya’s eyes widened and said, “Five minutes,”

You allowed yourself to smile intimidatingly, shifting your fingers so you were now pointing straight at him.

“Good luck.”

[captain-aralias]

Vampirism for fun and profit

We learned some good stuff about vampires from ‘Wayward Son’. Here’s a list, because like @sharkmartini​ says - it could come in useful. (To fic writers, I assume; not vampires who are new to vampirism.)

Big ticket items are obviously to do with ageing and the effects of vampire bites. I will also add in - the vampire thrall, which is a significant new ability we didn’t know about. 

Ageing and immortality: 

Lots of this obviously has to be taken with a pinch of salt, as it comes from Lamb who is not a reliable source. I assume it is the truth - but given that we have no proof, it could easily be ignored or disproved in fic or later books.

It’s strongly implied that vampires are immortal unless killed. Also, they either have very slow ageing or don’t age. 

Lamb implies repeatedly that he’s around 300 years old (when vampire society was very different), asks Baz how old he is “really”, and the NowNext vampires specifically want vampirism because it stops them ageing. 

"I pre-date choice. ... All my people understood was war and hunger, and demons who came in the dark." (Chapter 52)

Does vampirism stop ageing immediately? @krisrix theorises that it’s to do with drinking human blood, rather than animal blood, which makes sense to me. However, we might also hypothosise that since Lamb’s brother killed his parents before he went for Lamb, it’s possible he was much younger than the 34 he claims to appear to be when he was turned and has now aged to around 34.

There’s plenty still to play with here - Baz isn’t very good at asking questions about his condition, and did not get information about what loopholes exist. 

Lamb also claims that you can’t stop being a vampire, but presumably he has never tried:

"You won't feel so close to them, the Normals, once you've outlived your ties to mortality ... There's no unbecoming, Baz. There's no sidestepping your true identity. All the rabbits in the world won't change you back. They'll just leave you thirsty." (Chapter 52)

The Turn and other effects of vampire bites:

I was willing to challenge this one when we just had ‘Carry On’, although it’s presented as pure fact that Baz’s fangs will turn someone into a vampire. But of course he literally does not know. (Which is all the proof you should need that everything is up for grabs, unless Baz has experienced himself. And even then, we might be able to write it off later because he’s so isolated and doesn’t know how to be a vampire.)

Again - none of this is provable as once again nobody thinks to get any evidence for Lamb’s claims or Shepard’s hearsay. (Why not look up that guy who got bitten? Isn’t this relevant to your life, Baz?) However it seems likely that not all bites result in someone becoming a vampire.

"Oh I doubt he Turned him," Shepard says, smothering his chips in ketchup. "Vampires hate to Turn people. They either take a sip and let you go - or drain you dry"

Lamb says the same thing:

"So you don't Turn people?" "Rarely. Most of don't want the chaos and competition. Almost no one wants the responsibility." (Chapter 52)

However, it’s worth noting here again that when he talks about his brother he states that his brother didn’t want a “comrade”; he was “thirsty”. So it seems like if you don’t know what you’re doing, you can definitely Turn someone accidentally. 

If, however, you do know what you’re doing, you don’t have to kill or Turn. Again - we primarily hear from the vampire’s POV, but Lamb strongly and repeatedly implies that people like being bitten. 

"No need to leave a corpse when you can leave a satisfied customer, you know?" (Chapter 44)

"Because I didn't enjoy being bitten."  "Then someone was doing it wrong." (Chapter 52)

You could argue that this is supported by the sight of the Normal (?) girl Baz sees at the party, who does seem to be having a good time.

"A Very beautiful woman - a girl my age - stumbles past me, laughing. There's blood streaked down her neck" (Chapter 44)

Not entirely sure whether the guy who gets bitten later in the chapter is enjoying it, though, so ... again, room to play with whatever.

"The man's neck goes limp. His head droops back, his hat falls off. His eyes immediately glaze over. I've seen that face on a deer before." (Chapter 44)

Turn is always capitalised, btw. 

Different kinds of blood: 

Shephard notes that Baz looks greyer than the rest of the vampires:

Not as drained and ghostly. If this is what a vampire is supposed to look like, then maybe Baz is a vampire with an iron deficiency." (Chapter 53)

Lamb probably confirms that Baz’s colour and the kind of blood he drinks are related:

"No wonder you're so pale. You're malnourished."(Chapter 50)

The NextBlood vampires are probably all really new vampires (like - the last 10 years), but they don’t look like Baz. They look incredibly healthy and are almost certainly surviving on human blood they get from somewhere. They don’t drink blood; they transfuse. 

"They don't even drink, Baz - they transfuse. They won't touch anything that hasn't been tested frozen, and stored. I've heard they've started pasteurising.” (Chapter 50).

We also learned (and we learned this for sure) that you can fang-up or fang-down at will. (Chapter 50)

The smell of Simon:

Last time on ‘Baz doesn’t want to eat his friends but he also does’, he told Simon he smelt like bacon and cinamon buns (CO, Chapter 71) - although he might have been being metaphorical. (I tend to think not, but could be convinced.) Later, at the leaver’s ball, he says Simon’s smell has changed - and now he smells like “something sweet and brown. No more green fire and brimstone.” (CO, Epilogue)

This time we get a new description, although it tallies with the CO Epilogue.

Simon smells like the kitchen after you pop popcorn and melt butter. There's a singe to it, with a round, yellow, fatty feeling that sticks to the roof of your mouth. Bunce is sharper and sweeter - vinegar and treacle. (Chapter 14)

And when Simon is shot:

Simon's blood smells like brown butter. (Chapter 60)

Baz tries to block this out with Altoids, which he must buy specially from some sort of posh-person shop because I’ve never seen them on sale. 

They're very good for blocking out blood smells. Especially the spearmint flavour." (Chapter 55)

The thrall and other vampire abilities:

There’s not much to say about this, but I thought it came out of nowhere. And I know the gang had lots of worry about but no one was like, holy shit - vampires can do that??

Lamb did something to me. Hypnotized me or something. (Chapter 55)

In this particular case Shepard appears to those around him to be napping. (Is that all the thrall can do? We have no information.) It doesn’t feel good once it wears off.

I'm still a little hungover from my vampire thrall. (Chapter 50)

The other abilities are all confirmation of, or build on, things we learned in ‘Carry On’.

Advanced hearing: Lamb and Baz are both able to hear Simon’s heartbeat. (Chapter 52)

All senses are particularly advanced at night (which I think might be knew. We know they don’t like sunlight, but this seems to be more than that. Like - senses get better.) Although I treat this as the least trustworthy piece of information Lamb gives us as it’s just before the betrayal. (Chapter 54) 

Vampires move in a particularly stealthy way that is very noticeable: 

Vampires aren't especially beautiful (though some are). That's a myth, I think - vampire beauty. What they are is especially rich. And especially ... liquid. They move like oil, like shadows. Like cats. (Chapter 44)

General speed, strength, feeling like a brick wall if you punch them, faster healing (to go with not getting sick in CO). 

I know that I heal faster than other people. (More proof that I'm nota person.) But I've never really tested my limits. No one's ever emptied a shotgun into my chest or kicked me in the gut with steel-toed cowboy boots...

The worst I've been injured before this was when the numpties took me. I think my leg healed right away even then - but it healed wrong because I was stuck in that coffin.

Before that, there were fights with Simon. A few black eyes over the years, a split lip. I healed fast from those injuries, but so did he. I think Simon's magic used to heal him, even when he couldn't cast the spells to heal himself. (Chapter 37)

Vampire weaknesses: 

I don’t think much is new here, but as Baz remarks at the end, we certainly do know a lot about how to kill vampires. Some methods include: fire, beheading, being possessed by a demon and then getting a vampire to bite you, staking.

The vampire impaled on my axe handle has already started to wither. Like it was the magic in his heart holding him together. I pull back the stake, and he falls - a man-shaped pile of blood and boots and ashes. (Chapter 22)

Methods that don’t work include: gunshot and potentially most other weapons, although I can’t tell whether the Ren Fayre weapons are just terrible. (I assumed they were, and that this was hilarious.) 

There’s a bit more information about crosses as well. I thought Doctor Wellbelove had given Simon a specific vampire talisman, but apparently literally any cross will do, bonus points for silver. (Simon’s is gold.)

There are at least three people wearing crosses sitting near me. One of them must be silver; my nose won't stop running. (Chapter 9)

This makes me think that maybe what happened was that Simon said ‘my roommate’s a vampire, help!’ and Agatha’s dad was like, I don’t think so, Simon, but OK here you go - here’s a cross that will protect you from the, ahem, “vampire”. It was supposed to be a placebo, but since no one knows anything about vampires, Simon got back to school and Baz was like ‘argh, wtf is this??”

(N.B. It makes no sense to me that the cross thing is real, btw. Not all crosses are blessed, which means they’re just shapes. Why would vampires be repelled by a shape?)

Vampires get sunburnt. And go black, rather than red. (Chapter 16) Baz thinks it might not heal, but it does, just more slowly.

Baz, at least, can get drunk. Lamb implies that other vampires don’t - is this because Baz is a weirdo vampire, or because he just isn’t a big drinker? I assume the latter, but could be convinced of the former.

History and society: 

There’s a lot of stuff about the Las Vegas vampires, which I’m not recording because there’s lots of it and I’m mostly interested in this stuff for Baz-related fic and I’m assuming he will never go back to Vegas.

Are things like vampires being ‘tight lipped’ and vampires being ‘over the top’ specific to Las Vegas or the species? I assume it’s cultural and specific to the Vegas vampires.

Some famous UK vampire killings:

"I remember hearing, back in the fifties, that there wasn't a single one of us left in the UK - that Old Man Pitch had driven us out, like St Patrick driving the snakes from Ireland." (Chapter 44)

And of course Beatrix Potter apparently murdered every vampire in Lancashire.

You can apparently get a medal for slaying vampires. (Chapter 23) And all the shit the Mage did pales in comparison with him chatting to vampires. It doesn’t even seem to matter what he asked them to do for him (i.e. murder someone) - it’s literally just talking to them. (Chapter 37) The World of Mages is fucked up.

Baz doing other vampire stuff:

"Pork is the worst, sometimes I have to leave the Watford dining hall on days they served bacon" (Chapter 50)

Baz has also read Ann Rice and once ate his own dog. (Chapter 22)

That’s all I got!

According to the Kindle copy I have, the word ‘vampire’ (including vampires, but not vampirism) is mentioned 302 times in ‘Wayward Son’ compared to only 162 times in ‘Carry On’.

If you spot anything I missed, have other theories about vampires, or just want to talk about how Baz is a vampire, please let me know.

[detroitbydark]

can we get a soft/smut blurb where you and haz go to tom's red carpet for cherry? it'll be your first red carpet appearance as a couple so you are a little nervous and haz finds a way to calm your nerves 😏

This was fun to write. Nothing to racy or risque but definitely a bit fluffy. 

Word Count: 1000+

Summary: Harrison has had enough

Warnings: None

“You can stare in that mirror all night long and it’s not going to make you any less beautiful”

You smile softly as your boyfriend’s face appears in the floor length mirror in front of you. His eyes lock on yours for a moment before he’s gently brushing aside the thick glossy waves the stylist had finishing only a short time ago. His lips brush against the soft spot behind your ear and you inhale softly.

“Fucking gorgeous” he murmurs appreciatively as he steps back and uses his hand on your hip to spin you towards him, “No more mirrors, sweet girl. We’re going to be late if we don’t get going. The car’s downstairs.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. The whole thing, wearing a fancy dress and going to a movie premiere with Harrison was like a dream come true. It was also terrifying. Of course you’d known Harrison would be going to the Cherry premiere. He was Tom’s best friend after all. You hadn’t realized though that you would be going too. 

You’d been with Harrison long enough to realize at some point you’d need to be his plus one to some sort of official event but for the longest time he and Tom had taken to being one another’s dates and you’d been let off the hook. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be seen with your boyfriend. You loved Harrison and were so proud of everything he did. It was just...you felt so plain in comparison to the other women that traveled in his circle.  You weren’t a model or an actress. You were no socialite or social media influencer. You were just plain old you. There would be cameras and flashbulbs and so much scrutiny. You would be captured forever on film and the thought of having people sitting around the internet questioning whether you were thin enough, pretty enough, good enough for your own boyfriend made you sick.

“Sweetheart?” you hear Harrison question you softly. You shake your head and offer him a weak smile. “Where’d you go, Love?”“No where. I’m right here.” You lean in and give him a soft kiss, trying to distract him and not smudge your lipstick at the same time. 

“No you weren’t” he frowns softly at you as he pulls back. He holds you at arms length. Of course he saw through you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just want everything to be perfect. I want to be perfect for you and I…” you words spill out in a torrent, “I feel like a fraud. I’ve got so much shapewear on I can barely move. Like, I think I have spanx on top of my spanx.” your hands smooth over your dress. You’d loved the bright red satin when Harrison had shown it to you, loved the high slit on the right leg and the way the back dipped and the bodice draped across your body.  You’d felt like one of the old Hollywood starlets when you’d first tried it on. Now you just felt like a pretender. “I’ve been plucked and prodded. I’ve got so much double-sided tape on my tits I’m afraid this thing will never come unstuck.  I haven’t eaten a solid meal in three days and have had nothing but the bare amount of water needed to keep me alive today.” You flinch at Harrison’s frown. “All that and I still don’t feel good enough to be seen with you.”

Harrison’s jaw tightens and can see the muscles in his jaw twitch as he grips your shoulders tightly. “Listen here. I’m not going to listen to you talk about yourself like that. You are and always have been perfect for me. Whether you're in sweats and a bun or dressed like this. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He’s looking at you with such intensity it makes you want to squirm. 

“I get the whole not eating thing. I’ve been around long enough to realize what it takes for a girl to step into a dress like you’ve got on and I promise the first thing we’re doing when this is done is go to the first all night dinner we can find and eating the nastiest, greasiest plate of chips we can find.” 

Your teeth press into your lower lip as you bite back a smile. “With mayo and ketchup?” you laugh at his serious nod. “You know me too good” you say softly. 

“I know you the best. I also know that you're absolutely stunning and I can’t wait to show you off to the world.” His hands drop from your shoulders and one rests on your hip, while his other set of fingers teases at the slit in your gown.  You drape your arms over his shoulders, the patterns in Joshua Kane jacket matching the red of your dress perfectly. His hand flattens against your exposed thigh, kneading the flesh.

“Harrison...the car?” You're breathless already, so easy you were for him. A touch was all it took to move your mind to other things.

“When we get back to the hotel I’m going to strip you out of all of this.” His voice his gone low and it causes warmth to pool low in your belly. He points across the room. “I’m going to lay you across that bed and I’m going to make you cum over and over until you never question again how perfect you are for me.” His hand leaves your thigh and his fingers skim over your belly, over your breasts and circle almost lovingly at your throat. You inhale sharply. “Does that sound good?”

“Very” you choke back a whimper as he steps away and adjusts himself. You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows hard. His pupils are still dark and blown wide, your affect on him noticeable. 

“Perfect” He holds out his arm for you. “Now, let's get to that car. Tom will have both of our heads if we miss his big day.”