#fluff and humour

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico wakes up with a mouthful of hair.

“Are you serious.”

He sticks out his tongue, trying to get it out of his mouth without spitting on it, giving up after about four point three seconds of trying. He wriggles his arm out from where it’s pinned between his body and Will’s, flicking the last few strands off his tongue. For good measure, he kicks the first thing he can reach — his boyfriend’s thighs, go figure — in protest.

“Please, no,” Will mumbles tiredly, batting blindly under the cover until he slaps on big hand over Nico’s ankle, squeezing. “Please. I got in at three thirty last night. It’s barely seven. Please.”

Nico sighs, relaxing his muscles. Will presses a brief kiss to his shoulder in gratitude, face buried in his chest, sinking boneless into him.

“The whole knowing the time without a clock thing will never stop being weird,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to a freckled forehead. He rubs his hands over Will’s bare shoulders, digging his thumbs along the knotted muscles, and smiles as he groans, trying in vain to plaster somehow closer to Nico, practically melting into him. “Gracie keep you up all night?”

He shifts as he nods. “Harley, too. Poor things just want someone to hold their hair outta their face and rub their back, they’re so miserable.”

Nico hums in sympathy. It’s flu season — hitting the little kids, mostly. Will has been on his feet for days trying to mitigate symptoms, soothe aching bones and sore throats. There’s not too much he can do for the flu, but the kids are miserable and they trust him, so his presence is more of a cure and a comfort than anything.

“Kayla there now?”

“Austin and Lou. Kayla’s on after lunch; Piper’s with her.”

“Good.” He squeezes his shoulders again, leaning down to press a long, lingering kiss right between his eyes. He leans into it, sighing. “Sleep for a bit, okay? I’ll come check on you, but I don’t want you up before 2.”

“‘Kay,” Will sighs, unconscious again by the time Nico’s wiggled out of his hold. For a moment he stands, watching him: his bare, broad back, spattered with dark freckles and moles, dipping at the base of his spine and covered barely by the soft, white sheets; arms curled up all the way around his face in Nico’s absence, bicep squeezing his cheek, pursing his delicate Cupid’s bow; long, light eyelashes fanning over round cheeks; even, steady breathing, in and out, in and out.

Golden hair, of course, frizzy and messy and poofing out around his head; haloed in the early morning sun.

He’s barely able to tear himself away to go shower.

———

“They’re everywhere,” says Kayla in disgust, peeling a long, curly strand off her shirt. “I haven’t been in the same room as him in two days. This is a brand-new shirt. How am I still somehow covered in his hair?”

“He’s like a dog,” Austin explains. Nico snorts. “He sheds, and at first it’s subtle, here and there, you get used to it. The suddenly two years go by and people are complimenting the fur coat that was not fur before you bought it.”

Gracie sticks out her bottom lip, eyes watering. “Will is not a dog, he’s a boy!”

Austin groans, muttering something about favourites and annoying older brothers and where was this energy when I ate the last secret cabin twinkie and was accused of being a ratbag, huh, Gracie, where was my defense squad and annoying older brothers again. Gracie is unmoved by his whining, glaring at him with big green eyes — ever her oldest brother’s defender.

Nico hides a smile in his hand. No wonder, with how Will dotes on her. On all his siblings, really, but only Yan and Gracie are young enough that it doesn’t embarrass them.

Kayla and Austin, on the other hand. (At this point, Will enjoys embarrassing them in front of their friends as much as the actual doting.)

Kayla, weak to her sister’s pouting, pokes her playfully in the side. “I’m only teasing, Gracie-girl. Of course Will isn’t a dog.”

“Except the shedding, and the constant yapping, and the fact that if you don’t let him loose to run around for a while he goes batty, and of course the following Nico around like a lovesick pup—”

“Thank you, Austin,” Nico interrupts, clearing his throat. He sends a quick prayer of thanks to his father for hair genetics covering his flaming ears.

Austin snickers. “Anytime.”

After three years it’s futile, but sometimes Nico really considers rescinding his doctor’s note. Is sitting here during meals really worth his peace? Is it?

“He really does shed, though,” Kayla says after a moment of silence. She pinched yet another hair off her shirt, sighing. “Like, not to agree with Austin or anything —”

“Hey!”

“— but, like, damn. If he’s been there, you know it.”

Nico snorts. “Tell me about it. I keep finding hair on my pillows, it’s driving me insane.”

It does drive him insane. He finds it in the shower — although to his credit Will really does try to get them all there — and in his hairbrush, on his clothes, his sheets, his mattress. The floor. Once, notably, on the shrine in his cabin, after which Will had panicked and sprinted to the pavilion to scrape an entire pot roast and pray not to get smited, leaving Nico to laugh himself to tears at the base of it.

Too late, he notices the total silence at the Apollo table, the wide eyes boring holes into his head, the loose, dropped jaws.

“What?” he says, shoulders curled defensively.

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, realization dawns on him. He chokes on a grape.

“You two didn’t tell us?” Austin demands. “How long has this —” he gestures vaguely at Nico and at the infirmary, which, he assumes, is meant to represent Will — “been going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he wheezes. With his rapidly asphyxiating brain, he attempts to summon his boyfriend, still conked out, via sheer force of will. GET THE HELL UP AND COME RUN DAMAGE CONTROL, he screams silently.

Predictably, this does nothing.

Kayla shrieks. “Oh my gods, look at his face! They’ve been doing this forever!”

Nico bangs his hands on the table, trying at once to convey his protest and also hi, hello, children of the god of medicine, I am choking to death, fix please. Neither signal gets picked up, inhabitants of the table erupting an a screeching series of questions so loud that other campers notice, understand, and approach, equally as screechy.

“Will and Nico are together?”

“Holy shit! Since when?”

“I thought they’d never get out of the pining stage!”

“Don’t they hate each other?”

“Bro, are you stupid? Do you not know what bad flirting is?”

“Hey, is di Angelo turning purple, or is that just me?”

Throwing himself into the nearest shadow, Nico disappears.

———

“Get up, get up, I fucked up, I fucked up!”

Will shoots straight upright with a gasp, force of his own body sending him careening right over the side of the bed. He goes down in a tangled heap of cursing and yelping and ow, fuck, shit-damns.

“What happened?” he demands as soon as he’s free from his fabric prison. He rushes (stumbles) over to wear Nico is still wheezing, hands braced on his knees, for dizziness now as much as to catch his breath. “Neeks, woah, slow down for a sec. Deep breaths with me.”

He tries to follow along to Will’s exaggerated breathing, steady, long inhales and exhales. A calloused hand touches the curve of his neck, warmth blooming under it, and suddenly his airways are cleared.

“Thanks,” he manages hoarsely, breathing back somewhat under control.

Will squeezes his hand. “No problem.”

There are several pillow creases criss-crossing on his cheeks, making him look soft and sleepy, although his eyes are alert, crinkled in poorly-concealed amusement. His hair is somehow more mussed than when Nico left him this morning.

“What happened?”

“So I. Um.” Nico clears his throat. “Your bother was roasting you for shedding like a dog. I, of course, had to join —”

Will rolls his eyes, mouth twitching. “Of course.”

“— and I mentioned super casually that I get your hair all over my shit, right? And, well — well.”

“Well?” Will prods, when Nico cuts himself off. Chancing a glance, Nico finds he doesn’t look angry, or nervous, or disappointed — and of course he wouldn’t. Not for something as silly as this.

He is gonna laugh, though. Nico hates when he’s righteously clowned.

“Well, I.” He lowers his voice to a mumble. “May have said something about all of your hair that ends up on my pillows.”

For a moment it’s silent. Nico keeps his eyes trained away, although he leans into Will’s touch, his hands in his face, the side of his neck, the warmth thrown off his sleep-addled body.

He’s almost startled by the giggle.

Almost.

“…Oh, you dumbass.”

He tries very hard to look annoyed as Will cracks up. He taps his foot, crosses his arms, and tries very, very hard to frown, but Will’s laugh has always been the most musical thing about him, and he loves to serenade. And Nico is very weak to song.

“Stop laughing at me,” he snaps, without heat.

Will’s cheeks puff up from the force of him trying, face going red around the edges.

“I’m trying, Neeks, I am —”

“Not very hard.”

“I am, I am.” Valiantly, he draws in a deep breath, only breaking into giggles twice before managing to hold a somewhat straight face. “Nico,” he says, suddenly very close and very warm, “I love you.” He presses a kiss to his forehead. “And I love sneaking around with you —” the bridge of his nose — “and making out in dark closets —” his cheeks, both, quickly, one after the other — “and behind the Big House —” the base of his jaw — “and in the —”

“I get it,” Nico interrupts, flushing. He can feel the curve of Will’s smile against his skin.

“My cabin, if it’s empty,” Will murmurs, kissing the underside of his jaw, his neck. “Yours.” Slight nip of his teeth. Nico gasps.

“Will,” he whispers. His knees start to shake. “Will, c’mon, we gotta —”

Will presses a kiss square to his Adam’s apple, lingering. “We’re in yours quite a lot. I’ve gotten used to it, honestly, Neeks, I —”

The door bangs open, making both of them yelp. The matching screeches to not help the general air of panic and sitcom level foolishness.

“Oh my gods, you really are porking!”

“Get out, Kayla!” they both yell together.

“Jesus,” Will curses, forehead resting on Nico’s shoulder.

Nico bites his lip. Will shifts, turning to meet his eye.

They last two whole seconds before losing it.

“Three years of sneaking around without so much as a soul finding out,” Nico huffs as Will snickers. “Three whole years.”

Will pecks him loudly and exaggeratedly on the cheek. “And endless more in the open.”

“You’re such a goddamn cheeseball.”

“And yet you’re in deep, deep love with me.”

“…I am.” He cradles his face, pressing a kiss, finally, to his lips. Will presses back, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#i’m sorry i love secret relationship so so much #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #established relationship #secret relationship #fluff and humour #apollo kids #my writing #fic #longpost

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev

“This your place?” Keith asked, panting.

His host raised his eyebrow, pushing open the door.

“No,” he deadpanned, “this is my annoying neighbour’s house. He’s on holidays. I’m staying here and using all his things to take revenge for hours of small talk.”

“Oh,” Keith replied, impressed. “Cool.” He’ll have to do that next time Lance is on a solo mission. 

“No, I’m – I’m kidding, Paladin.”

“Oh,” Keith repeated, disappointed. “Less cool.”

“Just – get in the house.”

Keith didn’t argue. He followed his host into the small building, nodded as he was pointed to a guest room, and passed out the second his head hit the straw-stuffed pillow.

— — —

When Keith woke, it was dark outside. A scarred face was looming over his, and he bit back a scream, hand flying for his knife on reflex. 

“Peace, Paladin,” said Ares, holding up a hand. “I startled you. I did not mean to. It’s time for the feast. 

Keith slumped. His heart slowed from its jackrabbit pace. “Yeah. Yeah, man, thanks. I’ll be right out.”

His host nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Keith took one minute to calm himself, closing his eyes and counting his breaths. Once sixty seconds passed, he stood, glancing down at his armour. 

That was…fine, right?

They always wore their armour to diplomacy missions. Well, mostly because Keith threw a massive hissy fit the second Coran attempted to force him into the worst, most restrictive suit he’d ever seen. His armour was battered, unpolished, and honestly kind of rank, but it wasn’t like he had many other options. He held out his helmet, inspecting himself in the reflection of his visor.

Shiro would tell him to brush his hair.

Too bad he didn’t have a hairbrush. 

He walked out of his room, shrugging. His host was waiting for him by the small hearth in the middle of the house, standing as Keith approached. 

“Shall we make our leave?”

“Sure.”

He followed his host back out of the little house. They walk in silence. Keith’s feet begin to hurt by the five minute mark – he has no idea how long he slept, but it was not long enough, and exhaustion still pulled at his frame. 

Dryope had mentioned food, though. And something like a party, but one lucky thing about Ares – he doesn’t seem to be much of a partier, either, so hopefully Keith could ditch that bright and early and go right back to sleep. 

They walked along the same hills Keith’s host had led them down earlier, only this time they were going up, so it was worse. Thankfully, though, the walk was just barely shorter – they weren’t walking back to the beach, but to the hearth, the big fire pit Keith noticed walking in. All the houses they passed were empty, not even a light by the window.

“Is everyone at the – party, thing, whatever?” Keith panted.

Ares eyed him briefly, not pausing his stride. “Look for yourself.”

They crested the top of the hill, and Keith’s jaw dropped. 

The hearth was blazing. The flame burned so brightly and hugely that Keith was half-convinced it was out of control. Surrounding it in hundreds of chattering groups was every single Aegian, tall and wide and small, smiling and laughing. As he watched, an Aegian called something in a language Keith couldn’t understand, and immediately dozens of the tree-warriors rushed up to join hands in a big ring around the fire, twirling and dancing as the watching Aegians chanted and sang. 

Keith’s first thought was, Aren’t these guys made of wood?

His second thought was, This looks like a hippie commune. Time to ditch.

Unfortunately Ares caught him before he could go right back the way they can, spinning him around and shoving him down the hill.

“Real hospitable,” Keith grumbled.

His host seemed, as much as such a scary person could look, amused. “On you go, Paladin.”

Keith stomped on. He probably could take Ares in a fight, at least normally, but he was exhausted and injured and weak. Plus, if he was the reason behind yet another failed diplomatic mission, Lance would gleefully hold it over his head for weeks, and Shiro would be disappointed if Keith finally killed him. Plus, Allura would be upset with him, and having Allura upset with you kind of feels like taking a kitten that loves and trusts you and drop kicking it into the sun. Very quickly, you realise that you are the scum of the Earth and the worst person alive. It’s generally just something you should avoid.

As he trudged down the hill, he quickly recognised three familiar suits of armour. They were kind of hard to miss – even as scuffed as they were, they glinted in the light of the massive fire, shining like a bunch of precious stones. Pidge, sulking somewhere near a table of desserts; Hunk, chatting with his host; and Shiro, speaking with the Aegian leader like the tryhard little teacher’s pet he was. Coran stuck out, too, in his bright blue Altean uniform that was somehow pristine even though Keith watched him get flung at a wall and shocked by a bare wire from the broken control centre back on the dead castle. 

All the Aegians wore some kind of bedsheet, or their Tinkerbell clothes. Interestingly, the dryads were not the only Aegians present – there were others who looked a little more human, although they had plenty of strange features that reminded Keith they were not. A group of laughing girls looked like they were made from the bottom of a pool in the sunlight, skin shifting with dappled light. Several guys walked around with half a donkey hanging out of their drawers. Keith spotted some honest-to-God centaurs. One girl appeared to be made out of blowing, spinning wind. 

Hundreds of eyes seemed to follow Keith as he joined the crowd, glancing at him and then back at their friends, whispering to themselves. Keith shrunk into himself, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes – no one looked mad, or angry, or cruel, but no one looked exactly welcoming, either. Ares had disappeared at some point, not that he was what Keith would consider a friendly face. 

Keith needed to find someone he knew, stat. 

His first instinct was Pidge – the two of them usually slunked in some corner together whenever they were forced (often at gunpoint, thanks, Lance) to some stupid party. They had a running game called How Many People Can We Convince That Barking Is A Polite Human Greeting Before Shiro Finds Out. So far their score was 135-149, Pidge in the lead. (Keith very much intended to catch up.) But before he could make it over to where she was hiding, a group of water-girls descended upon her like a pack of piranhas, giggling and shouting something about braiding and eye makeup. Keith decided he would rather chew off his right hand than put himself anywhere near that, and did an abrupt 180 in search of Hunk.

Unfortunately, the big guy was still preoccupied. His host – Elijah (or something, Keith would be reminded of his real name eventually) – was showing him some kind of metal box that opened to a bunch of intricately placed gears and bobbles and wires. Hunk was staring at it like the Holy Grail. Not even Keith’s best pleading eyes and sad orphan story would convince him to babysit Keith and glare at anyone who attempted to socialise. Another dead end.

Keith sighed. That really only left –

“Hey, squirt!”

Keith went bright red, cringing with his whole entire body. He loved his brother, he really, truly did, but Shiro was as out of depth as he was at stuff like this and tended to overcompensate by being affectionate. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, except he had a bad case of Foot In Mouth Disease and knew Keith at his most embarrassing early teenage emo. 

So.

“Hey, Shiro,” he said stiffly, trying not to die inside as the man pressed a smacking kiss right in the centre of his forehead.

A tall, handsome guy somewhere to their left raised his eyebrows, smiling with amusement. Keith thought he could die. Sometimes, he thought his brother was secretly a forty-six year old suburban mom of three.

“We missed you!” cried his embarrassing brother. He was so genuine about it, it was hard not to smile back at him. “You took so long getting here!”

“My host’s place is at the farthest corner of the city,” Keith explained. “Had to hike here. Thought I was gonna bite it by mile six.”

Shiro snorted. “Drama queen.”

“Yeah, yeah. You try hiking after getting shaken around like a bobblehead. I bet your place is, like, twenty feet away from here.”

“Pretty much,” Shiro agreed, smile turning into more of a smirk. He attempted to dig his knuckles into Keith’s skull, but Keith was well used to his brand of crap and squirmed away at the last second. “Akeso’s sorta the main healer around here – at least I think? They’re not much of a talker – so they live in this building that’s attached to the infirmary. One of the big buildings in the inner circle.”

He pointed to one of the more rectangular buildings Keith had seen on the way in, with a much smaller, rounder building attached to it like one of those suction fish on a shark. It was hard to make out many details in the dark, fire’s light only able to stretch so far, but it looked pretty infirmary-ish.

“Hunk’s staying near the forges. He loves it, you should talk to him about it. He’s all cute and excited, you know that look he gets. Elatreus is impressed with him, practically made him an assistant.”

Elatreus! That’s the host’s name. And Keith absolutely knew what look Shiro’s talking about – the wide brown eyes, clasped hands, talking a mile a minute. He smiled softly. Nothing better for the soul like watching an ecstatic Hunk. 

“That’s good. Glad he’s happy.” 

“Yep. And Pidge is in a regular house like you, little more in-city. Next to some kind of trap shop? I don’t totally get it. Apparently Dysnomia needs a lot of supplies. Pidge was being all sketch about it.”

“That’s not super reassuring.”

“It is not!” Shiro agreed. He led Keith to one of the many tables laid out, absolutely covered in food. Keith realised he was ravenous, piling up a plate at least a foot high with meats and breads and foods he couldn’t even identify, but that smelt positively godly. At Shiro’s raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes and selected a single vegetable. 

“Make sure you toss some in the fire,” Shiro advised.

Keith squinted at him. “I’m…not gonna do that, thanks.”

“No, no, you have to.”

He pointed to the edge of the fire, where, sure enough, some Aegians were scraping the edge of their plates into the flames.

Keith wrinkled his nose. “The hell are they burning their food for? What a waste!”

Shiro shrugged, stepping into the line. “Akeso said it’s an old tradition, something that their ancestors felt protected them and gave them good will and peace. No one really wants to mess with that mojo, so. Portion of the food is sacrificed.”

Keith would be less pressed about it if the food didn’t look and smell so good. Scraping perfectly good food into fire felt like spending hours polishing a sword only to scratch it three seconds later – effort for no reason. When it was their turn, though, Keith did as the custom dictated. He’d learned enough about questioning weird traditions. 

He held eye contact with Shiro and flicked his one vegetable into the flames. Delightfully, his brother’s eye twitched, like he was considering shoving Keith into them. Suddenly, this custom was Keith’s favourite he’d ever been forced to partake in. 

By the time they finally sat somewhere to eat, Keith was so hungry he was ready to eat his fingers along with the food. He inhaled his food for a good five or six minutes, ignoring Shiro’s attempts first at conversation, then at slowing him down. 

“Christ, kid,” he said, voice tinged with either horror or awe. Maybe both. “Eating like I never fed you in your life.”

“You haven’t,” Keith replied around a rib of some kind. “Adam fed me. You made ash of everything you touched.”

Shiro’s expression soured. He poked sullenly at some kind of leaf. (Serves him right for trying to be some kinda health freak now that he’s in charge. Keith once watched him eat an entire Costco sheet cake at three in the morning, and that had been his first and only meal of the day. Keith enjoyed bringing it up every time Shiro preached about the benefits of salad and watching him just start screeching to drown Keith out. Good times.) 

“I didn’t turn everything to ash, you ungrateful brat. I made muffins that one time!”

You microwaved an already cooked muffin, Keith thought, wisely choosing to eat some kind of rice dish instead of bringing it up. And it tasted like erasers afterr. So.

“Sure, Shiro.”

Shiro nodded, satisfied. He picked up the leaf, sprinkled with some…orange thing, maybe, Keith couldn’t tell exactly, and took a delicate bite. He looked less satisfied.

“So,” he said, setting down his plate like he was looking for an excuse not to eat it. He looked at Keith expectantly. “You must want an update on Allura.”

Keith blinked. “Oh, shoot, yeah. I didn’t see her. She good?”

“Yeah, from what we can tell. When we got to the infirmary, Akeso stitched up my knee, then we –”

“You had a knee injury?” Keith interrupted. “You should have said something!”

Shiro smiled gently. “I got it treated, dork.” He bumped their shoulders together, trying to ease Keith’s upset expression. “I’m fine, okay? If Akeso didn’t bring it up, I would have. Promise. It wasn’t too bad, anyway, I swear.”

Keith frowned harder. He had noticed Shiro shifting slightly when they were first confronted by Dryope and her army, but Shiro had walked away without limping, so he’d allowed himself to stop worrying. A stupid mistake, and one he should know better than making. He knows his stupidly self-sacrificial brother. 

“Keith, seriously,” Shiro assured. He leaned down, unlatching his thigh and knee braces, then pulled back the rip in his undersuit. Keith wasn’t comforted by the size of the rip – nor the placement of it – but the wound didn’t look too bad, and was stitched neatly. Some kind of salve was spread all over it, under the clear wound dressing. As he watched, the wound seemed to contract, shrinking ever so slightly.

“Healing magic,” Shiro explained, putting his armour back. He patted Keith’s shoulder. “Akeso is super practiced at it. They stitched me up but warned that overdoing magic healing is as bad as cheating death, so it’ll still take a couple weeks to heal fully. Just won’t hurt so bad and might heal a little faster than with just stitches.”

“That why Allura is still out?” Keith clarified, finally letting go of the tension in his shoulders. Shiro looked relieved. “No speedy magic?”

Shiro nodded. “Exactly. After Akeso stitched me up we went to go visit Rhea, check on Allura. She’s tucked in this massive bed-nest thing, snoring away. She’s fine. Just super drained and needs all the rest she can. She’s in good hands.”

Relief punches out of Keith like a physical force. It’s one thing if his friends are injured, a whole other if they’re unconscious – but with Shiro’s assurance as well as Coran’s confidence earlier, he can relax. The two of them can read people like no one else on the ship – except maybe Lance. She’ll be fine.

“Speaking of Lance,” Keith said.

“No one brought up Lance except your own brain,” Shiro responded patiently. That infernal smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. 

Keith went red, barrelling right on. “Where is he? This stuff is right up his alley, I figured he’d be out twirling until he passes out in the punch or something.”

Shiro frowned, looking at him funny. “He is? He’s been over –”

Just then, the music that had been playing in the background changed – there was a collective inhale, then all the instruments played something at once. Keith didn’t know much about music, but the something felt intentional, deeply so. A song was beginning, rather than endless background music.

Excited murmuring moved in waves throughout the gathered Aegians. People started shifting. High above everything else, loud and excited, rang a disbelieving laugh – a very familiar laugh.

Keith whipped his head up, roll dropping from his hand and bouncing into the dirt. At the edge of the crowd, lit softly by the orange golden flames, was Lance – but it was no wonder Keith had missed him before. He wasn’t wearing his armour.

He was wearing a dress!

Well, not really a dress. One of those ancient Greek toga things, that looks like a droopy bedsheet. Keith had noticed it on several – almost all, in fact – of the Aegians; a draped, white garment, cinched in the waist, pinned at the shoulders. It hadn’t looked anything special on them. 

Lance, though, wore it like it had been made for him. Maybe it had. Most Aegians wore the toga-thing pinned at both shoulders, but Lance’s was only gathered at one, the rest of it falling artfully on his chest, looking dangerously like it was about to fall off. The cinched golden rope acting as a belt made his waist look downright tiny, like someone could pick him up around his middle and throw him, or something. It wasn’t crazy short, or anything, but Lance surely didn’t wear it down to his toes, like some others did. A pair of simple brown sandals wrapped all the way up his calves. 

There were actual freaking laurels in his hair, along with what Keith could only assume were gold threads, wrapped around a few tiny, careful braids. A golden bracelet wrapped around his bicep, contrasting with his many Earth-made bracelets and anklets, and his plastic blue Moana watch that he never took off. 

“He looks ridiculous!” Keith cried. 

Shiro tried poorly not to laugh. “I think he looks nice!”

“He looks like a freaking Roman statue!”

The music started to swell, and Lance reached out to grab an offered hand, and suddenly Keith’s blood went cold. 

“What is he doing all over Lance,” he hissed.

Shiro raised his eyebrows. “His…host?” 

“Hosting immoral thoughts, maybe!” Keith protested. Shiro choked on his drink. “Look at his damn hand! Gripping Lance’s waist like there’s a magnet involved! What’s he want, to pick Lance up like a prize and show him around, or something? What a creep!”

But Lance wasn’t scowling, or even using his polite I-hate-you-and-can’t-wait-to-talk-crap-about-you-to-my-friends smile. He was just smiling, and concentrating hard on his feet, wrapping his own hands all over Mr. Creep. As the music got more complicated, they started dancing. 

“What’s your deal with Peithos?” Shiro questioned. “What’s he –”

Keith ignored him. “And they have some kinda dance prepared? He’s supposed to be helping Lance recover, not teaching him a dance! How long have we been here for?”

Shiro finally sighed, giving up on his questioning. He watched the dancing duo, although with significantly less (zero) animosity than Keith. 

“‘Bout ten hours? Give or take.”

“Ten ho – ten hours,” Keith said, stumbling over his words. He tore his eyes away and stared at his brother, alarmed. “We’ve been here ten whole hours? I thought it was, like, three!”

Shiro nodded, taking a long sip out of his cup. “Yep. Surprised the heck outta me, too. Went for a nap after checking on Allura, and boom, sun’s down, Akeso’s waking me up, and my leg hardly hurts anymore. Exhausted sleep is sleep, man, I feel you. Pidge, Hunk, and Coran knocked out, too. Only Lance stayed up. That’s why he’s not in armour. And why he knows this dance, apparently.” He nudged Keith’s shoulder, expression suddenly much more solemn. “You know how he is with sleep.”

Keith softened. He turned back to the blue paladin with a sigh, watching the half-Aegian twirl him around. The music got faster and faster and the man grabbed Lance around the waist and lifted him, twirling them both like it was easy as pie. Lance threw his head back and laughed, cheeks flushed and nose squinted like it does when he’s really laughing. 

“Yeah, I know. Still, though. I don’t trust that guy. Too friendly. And Lance is too comfortable.”

“That’s fair.” Shiro was staring at him, too. “I don’t really trust many people here, actually. I think Rhea is trustworthy. And Elatreus. The other people, I can’t say yet. But Dryope…”

He turned to glance at the leader, who watched the festivities over the rim of an ornate glass. She sat on a carved rock, her father next to her. The rock-seat to her right was left empty. Keith could guess who it was for. 

“There’s something they’re not telling us,” Keith finished, nodding. “Agreed.”

He turned back to look at Lance and Peithos. The song had ended, but they were still standing close to the fire, bent close. Lance was gesturing like crazy, smile lighting up his face. Peithos was intently watching his every move. 

“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Shiro promised. His smile was small and reassuring. Keith glanced at the half-Aegian, then back at his brother, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

After the weird dance, the party started to die down. People slowly started to head out, first in singles, then in couples, then in large swathes. Pidge was one of the first to make her getaway. Keith looked around for his host, but couldn’t manage to land his eyes on him. He hoped he hadn’t already left – he had no clue how to get back to his guest room in the dark, and wasn’t super pumped about sleeping on the ground if it came to that. 

“You know where the house is?” Keith overheard Peithos murmur, so close to Lance there wasn’t a place they weren’t touching. 

Lance grinned up at him. “Yep! I’ll meet you there, don’t worry about me. Go do what you need to do.”

The half-Aegian smiled gratefully at him, then rushed off.

Some host, Keith thought bitterly.

His glare was apparently pretty pungent, because now that Lance’s distraction was gone, he looked over quickly. He brightened, jogging over.

“Keith! Hey! I haven’t seen you all night.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” muttered Keith sullenly.

“I hope you –” Lance frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Keith repeated, mocking. He rolled his eyes. Unfortunately he still managed to notice the expression on Lance’s face – wounded, not mad. He faltered. 

That wasn’t how their arguments were supposed to go. “You know what it means,” he insisted, but it sounded unconfident even to his own ears.

“I really, really don’t. I looked for you earlier, I couldn’t find you when everyone else –”

“You looked?” Keith asked incredulously. “I couldn’t’ve pried your eyes away from Tall, Dark, and Handsome if I plucked them out of your head!”

Lance’s already-present flush exploded out of control, so bright Keith could see it even in the dying embers of the hearth. “I wasn’t – he’s not – you’re not – what are you talking about!” he finally managed, tripping over his words in a way he usually didn’t. “Peithos and I were just – were just – we were only dancing! He taught me the Spring Dance, earlier, when he was showing – showing – me the wildflower fields, and –”

Keith narrowed his eyes. He realised for the first time that Lance was swaying, slightly, and even as he talked himself out of his embarrassment, the red didn’t totally fade from his face, staying high on his cheeks. 

“– I don’t know what your problem is, I swear, every time I have fun you live to ruin it. Gods, can’t I even have – have – have one thing, I just –”

He kept tripping over his words, like his tongue wasn’t working with him. Keith frowned harder.

“Lance, are you – drunk?”

“What? No!”

That Lance said clearly. He whirled on Keith with a new layer of clarity in his eyes, dark like pits and absolutely flashing in fury. 

“You think,” he seethed, stepping forward, “that I am so freaking irresponsible, so absolutely stupid and idiotic, that I would get intoxi – intoxish – intoxicat –”

He couldn’t even say the words. Keith stared at him in alarm, because he raised a good point – Lance liked to pretend, but he really wasn’t irresponsible like that. Keith had never heard him swear. He went to bed at the same time every night. As far as he knew, he’d never actually touched a drop of alcohol in his life – it would be out of character for him to get wasted at a diplomatic mission, late at night, when they were separated and wary. 

Something was not right.

“Lance, I think you should maybe –”

“Gods, you ruin – you ruin everything.” Lance blinked, hard, then glared at Keith, shoving off the steadying hand Keith had placed on his elbow and stumbling backwards. He held his gaze for several moments, absolutely glowering, and then – to Keith’s great horror – his brown eyes watered. Tears built up faster than he could wipe them away, tracing a line down his cheek. Keith staggered backwards.

“I hate you sometimes,” he said, and ran off. 

Keith watched him go, aftertaste of the delicious food turning sour in his mouth.

— — —

all art by @jiveyuncle!!

next

#I AM THE LUCKIEST GIRL ALIVE LOOK AT THESE PICTURES #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #shiro #takashi shirogane #broganes #keith & shiro #fluff #fluff and humour #fluff and angst #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #pining keith #oblivious lance #canon divergence #aegis au #my writing #fic #longpost #illustrated

[annabtg]

When Lily's father won't let her go out alone on a date with James, she has to resort to desperate measures: make it a double date with Petunia and Sirius.

“Forget about it.”

“But, Dad!”

“I said no.”

“This is completely unfair. I’m an adult witch and –”

“– And as long as you live under my roof, you do as I say. And I say you’re not going out alone with a boy, unless he makes his intentions for you clear.”

Lily Evans huffed and turned away from her father’s sitting form, as he returned to his newspaper without the slightest concern about ruining his youngest daughter’s love life.

She ran her palm over her face in despair. It was all James Potter’s fault. Stupid James Potter and his stupid smile that set her heart racing and his stupid kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Read the full story on AO3!

Completed, 7.4k words.

#lily evans #petunia evans #sirius black #james potter #jily #jple #jily fic #romcom #humour #fluff #fluff and humour #my fics #the chaperone

[kalee60]

Here it is! My yearly stucky Christmas fic 🎄 I had the best time with this one - there is something about stucky at Christmas that just warms my heart ❤️

Title: jingle all the way

Author: kalee60

Rating: T

Word count: 7076

Tags: Alternate Universe - modern setting, shrunkyclunks, identity porn, fluff and humour, Christmas shopping, minor injury, lust at first sight, disaster Bucky, Bucky is the greatest uncle in the world, Steve always wants to help, Bucky POV, Sam Wilson as Captain America, Nomad Steve, first kiss, love at first accident

Summary: Christmas Eve, Bucky realised, was not the time to try and buy the most sought after action figure in New York City. But he’d promised his niece, and there was no way he’d let her down - he was going to deliver. Except every single store he visited, had sold out.

Then he’s injured in an accident, and a good samaritan, Steve, comes to his aid. But the last thing he expects is to spend the evening with him on a futile search for a toy. Bucky wasn’t complaining though, as Steve was the kindest, hottest and most magnetizing man on the planet, and Bucky hadn’t had so much fun in years.

As time runs out for both the toy and their adventure, Bucky knows exactly what he wants for Christmas. But the question was - does the mysterious Steve want the same?

~*~*~*

If this sounds like something you'd like - click here!

This also covers off @stuckybingo N1: action figure

#my writing #Christmas fic #i do love these yearly stories! #stucky #oblivious Bucky AND disaster Bucky lol #fluff and humour

[thepaperpanda]

Time For a Picnic || Jake Lockley & Khonshu x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: In spite of many pleas, you manage to convince Jake to go on a picnic with you. Little do you know you're going to be joined by an unexpected and very fluffy guests 🐰

Warnings: none but Khonshu being himself 🤭

Word count: 1912

Author: Rouge

A/N: today’s prompt: Picnic ♡ green italics indicate Khonshu, orange italics illustrate Jake speaking Spanish ♡ below the fic you will find Spanish translations

Jake was certainly not keen on your idea of a picnic in the woods, even though he knew you'd complain for a few days if he didn't agree. 

Despite the fact that it was late October, the weather was surprisingly pleasant; there were many sunny days with no rain and no cold wind. 

He was driving his limo and checking on you in the rearview mirror from time to time; he couldn't help but smile as he saw you going through the list you'd made of the items that were about to be taken from your apartment; you were making sure you didn't miss anything. "Is it okay?" He asked casually, looking back on the road; his tone surprisingly calm and sweet as he spoke.

You nodded, looking in the rearview mirror and tucked a strand of your loose hair behind your ear. "I believe so. When you stopped at a gas station, I bought crackers and pickles because I didn't have any at home. The list is now complete," your lips were curled up in a smile.

As Jake parked his limo, he turned off the engine and got out of the vehicle, rushing to open your side door. His next move was to open the trunk, and he pulled out two big, wicked baskets and a plaid that he tucked under his arm.

As you closed your door, you suggested, "Jake, leave it, I can take it."

His head shook, indicating that you wouldn't be allowed to carry anything.

Since you wanted to be at one with nature and far from people, you chose a park located at the edge of the city. Jake knew there was a long walk ahead; in spite of the parking lot's proximity to the park's entrance, Lockley knew you chose a specific location near a little lake on the west side of the park for your perfect picnic spot.

As soon as everything was set for the picnic, the blanket was placed on the ground, the baskets were unpacked, you sat on the blanket to make sandwiches with Jake.

For him, putting so much effort into preparation seemed a little ridiculous, and he was certain he could do without them.

Khonshu chuckled to himself as he formed himself next to Jake who was trying to use his cellphone, yet there was no signal. "See how hard she's working, your little bug has been working like a little bee just to make you happy," he told Jake. "It would have been nice if Steven and Marc had done the same for me, little idiots."

Jake hid his phone in his jacket pocket and stared at the scrawny figure with a loud huff. "Stop being so dramatic, Khonshu."

Jake's words immediately caught your attention, and when you looked at him you asked with great anticipation, "Is Khonshu here, with us?"

“Él está aquí con nosotros,” Jake replied. “Come on, pal, Y/N would like to see you too, it’s easier this way.”

Khonshu manifested himself to you unwittingly, poking your side with his crescent moon staff, "Y/N."

Greeting the God of the Night Sky with a head tilt, you returned to preparing sandwiches. After you were done, you offered them to your boyfriend.

As Jake wasn't hungry per se, he accepted them and took a bite; oh, you knew exactly how he liked his sandwiches prepared, he thought to himself. “Gracias, cariño.”

"I see you are very adept at taking care of my friend, Y/N," Khonshu said, circling the blanket carefully, checking the surroundings. "Ideally, we all need to reconnect with nature in order to reset our frustrations. Isn't that right, Jake?"

Jake stopped chewing his sandwich and narrowed his eyebrows as he looked at Khonshu. "I'm far from being frustrated, why do you ask me this?"

You could not help but chuckle when they had their brief conversation; you admired Khonshu for being an entity beyond comprehension, yet truly protecting those who helped him; you could always count on Khonshu to provide you with any assistance you needed.

Khonshu took a seat on the blanket, saying, "We all know you're the most frustrated person among us, Lockley."

As Jake was about to start an argument with his godly friend, he heard you squeak so loudly he thought his head would explode. "What the fuck, nena?"

With a hand gesture you pointed towards the closest bushes; Jake and Khonshu looked there as well.

There was a small and round wild rabbit peering out of the shrubs, its nose twitching continuously as it was observing the gathering carefully.

“A rabbit,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. “Oh my God, what a beautiful baby. Tsss-tssss, come here, little one,” you slowly leaned forward, reaching your hand out to the rabbit.

"Perfect, a fucking rabbit is what we need now," Jake said with a roll of the eyes.

"Shush!" As you hushed him, your tone grew a little angry; you didn't want to scare the rabbit away.

Khonshu mocked Lockley, "And who claimed to be a haven of peace just a moment ago? It's just a wild rabbit, and you've already got a problem."

“My apologies, Khonshu, but Y/N is a freak when it comes to sweet, little animals y ella quiere adoptar todos ellos y consentirlos con buena comida," Jake said with a frown.

"Shut up, both of you, I'm luring this little baby to us," you hissed.

Even though Jake hated being around animals because you immediately turned your attention away from him, he remained silent.

Observing your attempts to attract the rabbit closer, Khonshu chuckled deeply; he knew your purpose was to pet it. Whenever he observed humans, he was surprised by their nature and the things they found attractive, such as petting animals.

Soon, the rabbit hopped close enough to nose the blanket and plastic sandwich bag; after that, it sat on the blanket and sniffed your jeans.

“Oh my God, oh my God, it’s so close,” you whispered, feeling your heart beating faster with happiness and excitement. 

“Nena, it’s just a wild rabbit,” Jake tried to explain, looking at you; he saw how narrowed your brows were as you slowly turned your head towards him - it indicated that you were growing angry with him, like never before, so he raised his hands in the air, shrugging his arms, silently apologizing to you.

As the rabbit raised its tiny head to gaze at you, you reached out a hand to touch its soft fur on the back, but the animal simply jumped into Jake's lap and soon started cleaning its tiny face.

The man froze and looked at you. "En serio, Y/N, ¿qué coño?"

Your mouth dropped open; you couldn't believe the rabbit had chosen Jake over you! Although Jake liked animals, he wasn't very emotional about them, so your surprise at seeing the wild rabbit curled up on his lap was even greater.

Khonshu chuckled lowly and said, "Well, well, Jake, if I had bet on Y/N touching the rabbit first, I would have lost my hand."

Angry and upset, you turned your head towards Khonshu and huffed angrily. "Shush, Khonshu."

This elicited a loud chuckle from the God of the Night Sky.

Jake began slowly petting the rabbit's back, risking being scratched by it; apparently, the animal enjoyed all the attention, as it rolled itself in a ball and twitched its nose as it observed the surrounding. “Pet it, Y/N,” Jake encouraged, giving you a brief glance. “Move your hand slowly.”

You frowned at his words at first, but soon followed his advice and began gently stroking the rabbit's back and head. "It has such soft fur!" You exclaimed. "Jake, will we be able to keep them?"

A frown crept across Jake's forehead. "¡De ninguna manera, nena!"

As you sighed loudly, you lowered your head.

Suddenly, you heard some noises in the bushes and soon a few more wild rabbits joined you.

You gasped loudly, looking around, as you hadn't expected anything like that to happen.

Bunnies had a variety of fur colors, from black to beige.

"When it comes to adopting a rabbit on Jake's lap, you need to consider getting them all, Y/N, it seems they're a family," Khonshu suggested as he reached for one of the sandwiches and pulled a piece of lettuce from it, offering it to the nearest rabbit with black fur who gladly accepted the treat; unfortunately, another rabbit hopped closer and took the lettuce directly from the black rabbit's mouth, chewing it quickly.

A few of the rabbits even allowed you to pet them without getting bitten, and it made you smile brightly. "What a day! It is such an honor to commune with nature in its purest, fluffiest form!" You exhaled, looking at both Khonshu and Jake.

As Khonshu held the rabbit in his hands and took a closer look at it, he nodded, remaining silent; the rabbit dangled motionless in Khonshu's hands for some longer moment, but soon started wriggling, trying to make its way free. Khonshu then put the bunny back on the grass. “I’m not going to hurt you, little, fluffy bug.”

Despite the many treats you gave them (apples and bananas you brought with you for picnic purposes), the bunnies soon became bored with you, and they hopped into the bushes, disappearing among the leaves.

You waved your hand farewell to your furry friends, yelling, "Bye, babies, stay safe! Oh, boy! It was so exciting and nice!"

"That was nice indeed. A little odd, but nice. I'd never seen wild rabbits so close to humans. Perhaps they had rabies?" Jake shrugged his shoulders casually.

Khonshu got up from his seat and improved his grip on his staff as he said, "If they had rabies, you'd be bitten by those little beasts already, Lockley."

You tilted your head, looking at Jake after eating your sandwich. "How can you say such a thing? Nothing odd about that, they were looking for friends, and they found us. I bet they sensed good vibes from me."

Lockley snorted loudly and shook his head in disbelief. “Would you mind if I reminded you that the first bunny chose me over you?"

You crossed your hands over your chest. "You're being cruel to me."

"Y/N, I'm just telling the truth."

"Stop arguing, kids," Khonshu said as he returned to the blanket. "The only way to make Y/N happy again is to get her a bunny."

Jake rolled his eyes, snorting louder. "There's no way I'll let a bag of bones and furry flesh roam around my apartment."

Making the cutest puppy eyes you could muster, you looked at your boyfriend; you knew Jake couldn't refuse them. “Baby, I promise I'll keep the flat tidy, and I'll care for the bunny, and I'll prevent it from destroying the walls and cords, and I'll feed it, so you won't have to worry!" You finally earned a loud groan from Jake after staring at him for a few minutes.

“Bien entonces, déjalo ser,” Jake sighed.

Immediately, you threw yourself on Jake's lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting kisses all over his face with a loud squeaks of happiness. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best!"

As Khonshu observed the scene, he chuckled to himself.

"Te juro, vas a matarme un día de estos, estoy seguro,” Jake whispered deeply, giving you one of the tightest embraces you have ever experienced. “I love you, my little bunny.”

SPANISH TRANSLATIONS: Él está aquí con nosotros - he’s here with us

Gracias, cariño - thank you, sweetheart

Nena - babe

… y ella quiere adoptar todos ellos y consentirlos con buena comida - … and she wants to adopt all of them and spoil them with good food

En serio, Y/N, ¿qué coño? - seriously, Y/N, what the hell?

¡De ninguna manera, nena! - no way, babe!

Bien entonces, déjalo ser - well then, let it be

Te juro, vas a matarme un día de estos, estoy seguro - I swear, you're going to kill me one of these days, I'm sure

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley x you #jake lockley #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight fluff #moon knight imagine #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley fic #jake lockley drabble #moon knight #khonshu #khonshu x reader #writers on tumblr #fic rec #fic recs #moon bois #fluff and humour #fluffember 2022 #paperpanda fluffember #fluffember #picnic prompt

[rahuratna]

Fanfic: Ikemen Kaisen

______________________________________________________________

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Mature

Characters: Nanami Kento, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, Fushiguro Megumi, Cursed Spirit (Original).

Genre: Crack, Crack treated seriously, Humour, Fluff, Mystery, Suspense.

CW: Suggestive content

Pairings: Nanami Kento/Cursed Spirit (one-sided)

______________________________________________________________

Summary: While on a mission, Nanami encounters a cursed spirit that rapidly becomes obsessed with him. Trapping him within its cursed domain, little does the spirit know that it's bitten off a lot more than it can chew with this particular jujutsu sorcerer ...

______________________________________________________________

Chapter One: Step into the Industry

(WC: 4781)

“Yes, Itadori, you heard me correctly.”

Yuuji’s eyes had widened to impossible proportions, hands clasped together so tightly, his knuckles were turning white.  

“Wait, you’re serious? You’re for real, Nanamin? We’re going to -”

“A concert, yes. I don’t like repeating mission details, so listen closely.”

Yuuji snapped to attention, one hand raised to his head in a smart salute.

“Yuuji, reporting for duty, sir!”

Nanami sighed. It was Thursday, a day he didn’t particularly fancy in terms of starting a new mission. Missions that started mid-week invariably ended up incurring overtime, along with eating into his weekend on occasion. He would do his duty diligently, nonetheless, as he was expected to show Yuuji the general procedure for such investigations. Thus, he had occupied this empty classroom for a briefing. He stood before the whiteboard on which he had neatly printed the details in bullet points (a necessity for Yuuji’s attention span). Pointing to the first line, he began.

“We’ve been receiving reports for a few months now about suspicious activity at idol performances all around Tokyo. Fans of certain idols have been going missing. All cases so far showed that the victims disappeared shortly after concerts, fan-meets and other public appearances. Initially, we could not make a direct correlation to curse activity. The disappearances themselves were sporadic and presented no specific pattern, so the case was placed under revision and monitored. Recent events, however, changed things.”

Nanami pointed to a photograph of a young man, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, artfully posed to highlight his muscular torso in a hooded jacket that was unzipped. He wore tight, dark jeans, strategically ripped, and was smiling coyly at the camera. He was undoubtedly very good looking.

“This is Takashima Ryouta, stage name Ryo-ri.”

“Eh? Like RiRi?”

“It’s his concert we’ll be attending. Recent disappearances occurring after his concerts have been far more targeted and blatant. Furthermore, our windows have reported cursed energy levels spiking in the general vicinity of these events.”

Yuuji raised his hand.

“Yes, Itadori?”

“How do we know that these disappearances are even linked to idols specifically? What if it’s something else they all have in common? Like, some kinda shady fan club? Or maybe someone’s just targeting big groups of people?”

Nanami pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, expression carefully blank despite the small surge of pride he felt at Yuuji’s astute observation.

“The latest victims were obviously targeted with intent. You see, Takashima has recently been growing in popularity, thanks to his appearance on a TV show. Some of his fanbase is therefore quite intense.”

Yuuji sighed.

“Yeah, they go rabid for guys who look like that.”

“For this reason, his agency has come up with a strategy to gain interest amongst his fans, but also keep him safe. Our intelligence network has informed us that they put up a lottery for each live event he performs at, allowing one fan to join him on stage for the duration of a song. The lottery is fake, however. Girls are hired from talent agencies affiliated with Takashima’s. They are disguised heavily and every time he makes an appearance, one of these ‘lucky’ girls is the one chosen to join him on stage. This way, his fans will continue to buy tickets in the hopes that they will be chosen by lottery, but will never actually interact with him on stage.”

Yuuji’s mouth dropped open.

“Whoa! That’s … really not cool! Isn’t that kinda like false advertising?”

“We’re not here to judge the insidious marketing strategies employed by a soulless, capitalist-driven entertainment industry that consumers blindly latch onto like tapeworms.”

“Er – “

“Rather, we’re going to be investigating why all the young ladies hired from the talent agency to join Takashima on stage have disappeared shortly after each performance.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. As I said, this, along with the more pronounced spikes in cursed energy, make this a case we can no longer afford to leave to regular law enforcement. You and I will be stationed within this area,” and here Nanami pointed to a roughly circular outline on a map of Akihabara. “We have also been provided with special VIP pass tickets to the concert tomorrow and will be closely monitoring the interactions between Takashima and this week’s chosen representative on stage. Afterwards, we will conduct surveillance on the individual in question. Please remember, our presence must be kept discreet at all times and we must blend in to the crowd at the concert as seamlessly as possible.”

Yuuji tapped his chin. “Blend in, huh? That won’t be a problem for me but, uh, Nanamin, not to be weird or anything – “

“Don’t worry on my account, Itadori. I have everything planned out. I have never had trouble with creating a cover.”

______________________________________________________________

Yuuji shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited outside the main entrance of Jujutsu Tech for Nanami to make his appearance. For once, the energetic young student had arrived earlier than his experienced mentor. He had grabbed a hot coffee from the machine in the foyer to pass the time. The caffeine was not calming in the slightest.

There was something about the current mission that both excited him and filled him with nervous anticipation. From the summarized report that Nanami had left for him to read, he knew that the number of disappearances meant that they might be dealing with a tricky opponent this time. The fact that this activity was happening in such a crowded area of Tokyo also indicated that whoever was engineering these vanishings was either unhinged or audacious, neither of which boded well.

A black sedan with tinted windows made its way around the side of the building and Yuuji hopped forward, waving. The car drew to a halt beside him and he opened the passenger door, grinning as he spied Nanami in the driver’s seat.

“Whoa Nanamin, I like the fit!”

Nanami’s immaculate suit had been replaced by jeans, a simple, but expensive-looking grey knit shirt and a long, dark overcoat. His signature shades had been substituted for designer sunglasses and the sleek band of his wristwatch gleamed from beneath his sleeve. The normally swept back hairstyle was a little more relaxed, making him look closer to his age than he usually did.  

“Thank you, Yuuji. You’re suitably dressed, I see.”

 The student cocked his head and Nanami nodded, anticipating his question.

“I’ll be calling you Yuuji for the duration of this mission. I’ve decided that we’ll present ourselves as uncle and nephew. I am your – “

“For real?”

Yuuji’s eyes were shining in a way that made Nanami cough and turn away. He propped up his glasses and shifted gear, the car gliding away from the main gates of the school.

“Yes. That way I can call you Yuuji and you can continue to call me … Nanamin, I suppose. I am visiting home after some time away and decided to spend some quality time with you, my nephew. And so, I’m taking you to a concert that you’ve been wanting to attend for some time. I trust you did your homework?”

Yuuji nodded proudly before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“I downloaded all of Ryo-ri’s songs last night and learned the lyrics. He’s not bad! I can totally jam to this.”

“Good. It’ll be a long drive, so use the time to brush up on the mission details.”

Which is exactly what Yuuji did, to begin with. He pulled the folder from his backpack and opened it out on his lap. Nanami had been kind enough to summarize the numerous reports for him and provided concise profiles of the main players in the case. Eyes running over Takashima’s info page, Yuuji frowned slightly. Something was missing. He glanced out of the window at the passing scenery, trying for a while to figure out what it was, before his eyes widened.

So obvious!

Scrolling rapidly on his phone, Yuuji began to search for Takashima’s Instagram. The information in Nanami’s profile, as succinct and useful as it was, lacked … flavour. Social media would give Yuuji a more accurate idea of the image the idol was trying to put out there. Soon enough, he found what he was looking for.

Uhhh, okay then.

Takashima’s pictures skirted that fine border of what Kugisaki would call ‘spicy’. They were definitely risqué for an idol, but this was what seemed to appeal to his particular audience. Yuuji’s eyebrows shot up at the sheer number of likes one particular photo had. The picture was a mirror selfie, showing Takashima’s glistening torso, presumably after a workout, his face obscured teasingly by the phone. Yuuji nodded sagely. This image fitted in with a lot of the lyrics he had been learning yesterday.

“Ohh, I see. He’s going for playful fuckboy, but like, more tasteful.”

“Pardon?”

“Oops … I said that out loud, huh?”

“Yes, you did. Now explain.”

Yuuji scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Sooo, like, how do I explain this? Idols have images they create, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“And those images draw fans and make them more popular. I checked out Ryo-ri’s IG page and … and you know what IG is right?”

“I’m not five centuries old, Yuuji.”

“Fine, fine! Just checking. Wait, do you have – “

“I use it to follow recipe pages and food blogs. Let’s move on.”

“So, from what I’m seeing here, Ryo-ri’s fans are mainly girls who like this image he puts out of being … you know. Like a playboy, a guy who doesn’t take things seriously, but nice at the same time. The persona is … the guy who’ll steal a girl’s heart and move on quickly, but she can’t have bad feelings towards him, because he’s not an asshole? It’s why he also has fans who are guys. They kinda want to be like him and they feel his lyrics. You get what I’m saying?”

Nanami hummed thoughtfully. “I think so. And this is what’s called … a fuckboy?”

Yuuji snorted loudly.

“That word sounds so wrong coming from you. Not exactly. Guys who get called that can be flaky and do dumb stuff, but Ryo-ri’s got the right balance. He’s got the ‘naughty, but chill’ vibe.”

“I see. And do you think this makes him more or less likely to be responsible for the disappearances?”

The words sobered Yuuji, who sat back, a warm feeling filtering into his chest. As much as he had found it difficult to get along with the taciturn ex-salaryman to begin with, his view had changed a lot over time. Nanami was the epitome of a responsible adult, his stern exterior hiding just how kind and patient he was, especially with students. There were times like these, when he would ask for Yuuji’s opinion in such a straightforward manner that it made the boy want to prove himself even more, to show that he could also be an exemplary sorcerer.

“Umm, I think it means we should watch him carefully at the concert. If he is involved, I’m not sure he’d be so … obvious about it? He’s not super high profile, but he’s getting there. If his fans are disappearing, that looks bad for him. I … I think maybe there’s something else to this too.”

Nanami nodded slowly.

“All right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yuuji spent the rest of the ride watching some of Ryo-ri’s live performances on YouTube and searching for the specific songs where the girls would join him on stage. In between, he did some other stalking.

“Hey, hey, Nanamin. Guess whose IG I found?”

A small chime sounded from Nanami’s pocket.

“Yuuji – “

“That’s my invite. Don’t ignore your precious nephew!”

“My profile isn’t that interesting. How did you find me, anyway?”

“I checked who Gojo-sensei follows. And, I mean, there’s only one person who’d call himself ‘Gruyère_Ghostbuster’ – “

“Don’t say that out loud.”

“And hey! Your profile is cool! It’s not just food, Nanamin. You’ve got such awesome nature photos and wait … are these videos of yourself cooking? I recognise that watch! Are you making rolled eggs here? And oooh … you’ve got puppy videos?”

_____________________________________________________________

The weather was perfect, the sky bright and clear, the normal obscuring fog of the city conspicuously absent. The air still carried a chill and Yuuji wrapped his red scarf closer around his neck. They had parked some distance away from the open-air venue where the concert would take place and were now steadily making their way in that direction, soaking in the sights and sounds of Akihabara.

Yuuji was carrying a bag of manga he had bought at a nearby store and chattered amiably about the recent story arc. Nanami followed a few paces behind, nodding along to Yuuji’s remarks. On the surface, they looked every bit the ordinary uncle and nephew. Only someone who knew exactly what to look for would note the way the boy sometimes shifted his body to observe people better or the way the older man’s eyes would flit sharply back and forth beneath the sunglasses.

Thus far, there had been nothing overtly suspicious in the area, besides the low-grade cursed spirits that showed themselves at intervals. After some time, they found themselves at the venue which adjoined a hotel and conference centre. The centre itself housed quite a variety of functions, with a spa, restaurants and various stores catering to a wealthier clientele. Nanami took the lead, passing through the security checkpoint at the hotel. Yuuji trotted nervously after him, half expecting a security alarm to start blaring because of what he knew was strapped to the older sorcerer’s back.

Nothing happened. Nanami turned his head slightly.

“Cursed energy can also be used to conceal things.”

“Ha. Cool. I guess I gotta learn that sometime. Where are we going, by the way? The concert will be out that way, but I know it’s still early …”

“We have VIP tickets, remember. That means we get access to any of the services here and hotel rooms close to the concert venue. I’m sure you’re hungry, so let’s get something to eat first.”

Nanami began to make his way to the upper levels of the centre. Yuuji followed, sticking close to his mentor. As confident and easy-going as the teen usually was, there was an air of opulence and rarified luxury here that was starting to make him feel small and very out of place. Looking around, he could see executives in expensive suits talking on their phones and people carrying shopping bags with hideously expensive name brands emblazoned on the front. He glanced down at his sneakers and discreetly tried to rub off a scuff mark against the back of his leg before glancing over at Nanami. The tall man showed no sign at all of slowing down, his stride elegant and assured, looking every bit as if he belonged in this setting. People parted ways to allow him to pass.

Eventually, he led them to what looked like a high-end steakhouse. The maître d’ stepped forward, his eyes roving intimidatingly over the two, and Yuuji was tempted for a minute to mutter apologies, scamper off and order a cheap slice of pizza somewhere. A firm hand on his shoulder stilled him and he felt a small sense of reassurance assert itself as Nanami’s deep voice sounded above his head, explaining that they had a reservation.

By the time they reached the table, Yuuji’s excitement was back.

“Wow! Look at the view from up here!”

“Hmm. A good view over the stadium. See that? That’s the stage where Takashima will be performing.”

“Ahh, so that’s why you chose this place.”

“Indeed. Reconnaissance. That, and the steak here is superb. We can see them work on putting up the stage props. That way, we’ll sense if anything deliberate is happening behind the scenes.”

With that, the sorcerer began to study the menu. The meal was, unsurprisingly, a fantastic experience. Nanami ordered them a selection of starters, steak for mains (with a carefully selected wine pairing for himself) and the most delicious chocolate dessert Yuuji had ever tasted. When they were done, the pink-haired boy sat back and sighed.

“How come we get to do all of this? Do the higher-ups really approve all the costs?”

Nanami sipped his wine before replying.

“Depends. If a proper motivation is provided, there’s no reason for them to refuse. Of course, this requires us to fill out a series of detailed documents that most jujutsu sorcerers don’t bother with.”

“But not you?”

“Have you forgotten my previous profession? Form-filling is my speciality. My paperwork is nothing less than exceptional and thorough. There is always solid evidence of what I need. If it is not approved, I log an official query that requires a lengthy board meeting and an extensive review of all documentation.” The corner of Nanami’s mouth crooked up in a small, rare smile. “It’s been some time since any of my requests were denied. Let it never be said that I’m not compliant.”   

Yuuji grinned in return and raised his glass of juice.

“Kanpai, Nanamin.”

____________________________________________________________

There had been no sign of anything unusual during their late lunch and by the time they made their way down to the concert, the lower levels were already swarming with people. Looking around, Yuuji saw, unsurprisingly, that most of the crowd consisted of young women. They were chattering and laughing loudly, and everywhere he looked he saw faces alight with excitement. Contrary to the atmosphere that was growing around them, Yuuji’s concern spiked. There was potential danger lurking somewhere, and it would be difficult to detect in such a large mass of people.

Nanami steered him through the crowd to a separate entrance where fewer people had queued. This was the entry-point for those with VIP tickets. They were soon through the checkpoint and were directed by various ushers up a winding staircase to a wide outdoor box that spanned an entire floor. Although sheltered from the elements, the box projected overhead towards the stage, offering a perfect view of where the performance would take place. They took their seats, scanning their surroundings carefully. Thus far, there had still been no sign of elevated cursed energy.

“Yuuji, remember why you’re here.”

“Oh, right!”

Springing up, the youngster made his way around, using the allowance Nanami had given him to buy some merch and snacks from the vendors that were stationed against the back of the VIP box. He began to slowly make a circuit, pausing now and then to start casual conversation with others who were also making purchases. Soon enough, his friendly and open personality had drawn a few others into his orbit, and he compared merch, exchanged contact details, introduced people to his awesome ‘uncle’ and even found himself invited to an online fan-club of Ryo-ri’s. Eventually, he made his way back to Nanami.

The older sorcerer had been casually sipping a coffee, eyes taking in the stage and the members of the audience who had been filling into the main area below. He glanced up as Yuuji took his seat.

“Anything?”

“Nothing so far. Everyone seems pretty normal.”

“All right. When the performance starts, you focus on the stage. I’ll check the audience.”

A lesser-known girl band opened the concert, the energy of their performance doing a lot to hype up the crowd. Yuuji played his part very convincingly, shouting encouragement and applauding loudly. Nanami bit back a smile when he noticed that others were taking their cue from his lively ‘nephew’. The first act was followed by another group and then there was a slight lull, a sense of building anticipation as the main performance drew near.

“There he is,” Nanami muttered, as Ryo-ri bounded onto the stage to a cacophony of high-pitched screams and thunderous applause. The idol hitched up his baggy jeans and swaggered from one end to the other, delivering a series of compliments to his ‘beautiful’ audience and blowing a kiss that made some of the girls in the front row look like they were about to pass out in ecstasy. Ryo-ri started with what Yuuji recognised as the biggest hit from his second album, a high energy dance number that really got the crowd on its feet.

The pink-haired teen threw himself into his own act, starting up a glow-stick dance routine in the front row that the people around them soon joined in. Nanami shifted awkwardly. As much as he had encouraged Yuuji to act the part of the excited nephew, he should have foreseen how it would make him look in comparison. The girls behind them were quick enough to catch on, because they were soon shoving their extra glow-sticks into Nanami’s hands and encouraging him to get on his feet too. Yuuji turned and snorted with laughter.

“Just follow my lead, Nanamin! It’s easy, see?”

As he waved the glow-sticks around his head and turned on the spot, Nanami’s profound sense of existential horror soon settled into detachment as he went through the motions. He was just glad that Gojo wasn’t here to witness this debacle. Soon enough, it was time for the anticipated lottery announcement. Ryo-ri made a show of pulling a piece of paper from a large bowl that had been carried onto the stage and read the number of the winning ticket. One of the women in the front row screamed in excitement and the crowd parted to allow her entry to the stage. Burly security guards did a quick check of her person before showing her through. Yuuji slowed down his routine, pausing to take a sip of water and munch on a handful of popcorn, his eyes glued to the stage. Nanami used this momentary lull to mutter the word “bathroom” and make his way to the end of the VIP box. Here, the sorcerer paused, eyes scanning the crowd carefully through his dark glasses.

The young woman, presumably one of the secretly vetted members of the talent agency, climbed onto the stage. Her hand was placed over her mouth and her eyes shone with glistening disbelief as Ryo-ri took her hand and twirled her around, dropping her softly into a plush seat that someone had brought up at some point. She was certainly a good actor. The idol began to sing a crooning ballad, one of his more popular slow-paced songs, as he danced languidly around her. Nanami frowned as he began to sense a change in the crowd’s mood. On the surface, people were hooting and cheering at the display, but there were undercurrents of negative emotion that had begun to rise like a miasma over some portions of the audience. There could be no mistaking the general feeling.

Jealousy. Resentment. Longing.

What the sorcerer had not expected was the strength of the emotion being exhibited. Was it like this at every performance with an idol in high public demand?  

Not quite.

Ryo-ri was pretty avant-garde in his approach to gaining popularity. Nanami recalled what Yuuji had mentioned earlier in the car, about how the idol was not afraid of presenting an image that was quite risky in the Japanese entertainment industry. Inviting a fan on stage was not a common practice and it was understandable, judging from the sensations Nanami was getting from the audience. But then, this was what sold tickets and drew fans into a never-ending circle of unfulfilled desire. The sorcerer allowed his mind to sink into that meditative state that allowed him to spread his senses even further, more receptive to slight changes in cursed energy. As unpleasant as the sensation was, sickly sweet with underlying bitterness brushing against the edge of his mind, he observed the swathe of people below him with unerring focus.

Ryo-ri had upped the ante of his performance, twirling strands of the ‘lucky’ woman’s hair around his finger, gyrating sensually in front of her before dropping to his knees at her feet, one hand brushing gently across her ankle. Nanami felt distaste rise in his throat as the poisonous thrum of envy from the audience grew further. Those happy faces and the applause were so deceptive, considering the hidden depths of emotion some were allowing to fill their hearts, overflowing into the space around them.

And then, he felt it.

The swell of negative emotion grew like a wave, the spike of cursed energy at its peak so sharp and subtle, like a blade honed so fine that it passed painlessly across the skin, leaving blood blooming in its wake. Across the way, Nanami saw Yuuji mask his own reaction admirably, a tiny pause in his energetic waving as he sensed it too. Scanning the crowd, Nanami frowned as the minute trace of cursed energy was lost under the current of emotion once more. With a small signal to Yuuji to stay where he was and observe, the sorcerer made his way quickly and quietly down the stairs to the security check point. Here, people could move between the VIP box and the general area freely, as long as they displayed their pass when they returned.

He emerged into the crowd, the sights, smells and sounds assailing him, tugging at his awareness like a petulant child. Focusing ahead, Nanami began trawling, edging his way slowly and meticulously forward. Glancing up he saw Yuuji take a break from dancing and lean nonchalantly against the railing, sipping an iced drink, alert to what was happening on stage. Shoulders brushed and slid across his, Nanami’s height allowing him a fairly good view over the majority of the people around him.

And so it was that he felt it again, that sharp, tingling touch of poison, dangerous and chemical on the tongue, like the scent of paint-thinner that hung in the air of empty buildings. He turned towards the source, concealed eyes searching through the throng of people. Something was definitely here. Something cunning, something with a sinister awareness that slid away from the edges of one’s perception. Feeling the tension coil within his frame, Nanami pressed on.

____________________________________________________________

Ryooo – riiiiii. Ryoutaaaaa. Ryo. Ryyyyo.

It rolls so nicely off the tongue. So sweet, so sweet. A sticky fruit candy on a hot summer’s day.

He’s up there, for all of us to see. Our eyes are crawling all over him, like many, many spotlights. How precious he is. Precious as a little pearl.

He’s definitely better than all the others. Gino was a looker, oh yes, but … there was something missing. That innocent little boy act? It got old so, so quickly. Yawn. And Kiko was great too, but then he couldn’t handle the fame and went away for a while. Ick. So uncool. But Ryooooo-riiiiii. Oh, Ryo-ri. He’s … different. He owns the stage.   

His hair is shiny as tinsel under those lights, and his eyes! Oh, his blue eyes are focused and so, so dreamy. And look, look at his shirt. So translucent with sweat. Delicious.

Ryooutaaaaa. Why won’t he look this way? It’s so unfair. If he could just see me … maybe he’d be the one who wouldn’t be able to look away. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

Tiny little trickles of sweat, from his brow and upper lip. How nice if he could wipe it away and smile, right into my eyes, with that look. That look. The one in his photos, the one that makes me feel so … present. So solid. Oh yes, Ryo-ri is perfect. He’ll do.  

Last month, his sneakers were orange. Orange! Imagine, such a bright, garish colour. But Ryo-ri makes it work, somehow. He always looks so tasty. Nobody can pull off orange shoes like Ryo-ri.

But, but, what’s this? Who? Who’s here?

Is someone here to stop me? I won’t let that happen. Who is it? They can try, hahahaha! Nobody has stopped me before and they won’t now.

Wait … something’s different. Something is searching. Careful now. This doesn’t feel like anything good. I feel eyes, but different. And a presence. A strong one. Who, who is it? Where? Careful.

There! I see him. He’s coming this way. I can’t let him … who is this anyway? How dare he. I want to crush him like a stupid little bug. Like that bitch on stage, that ugly, lying, cheating, stupid, stupid, stupid little bitch. Both of them.

He’s coming closer. No, no, I can’t let this happen. Careful. Don’t get angry. Don’t let him find us.

He’s here! He’s right here. Something’s not … he’s dangerous! Get away! He’s turning this way! I can see his face! He’s … oh.

Oh.     

____________________________________________________________

#fanfiction #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen #jjk fic #crack fic #jjk fluff #itadori yuuji #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jjk yuuji #jjk nobara #jjk megumi #fluff and humour #mystery #suspense #cursed spirit #nanami kento slays #domain expansion: infinite rizz #cursed spirit never stood a chance

[chenziee]

Princess Monster

For @cosmicatta!! All credits for this AU and Monkey D. Ola go to her! (Please check out her amazing art and fics <33)

There is going to be a short lawlu extra tomorrow (hopefully, I'm gonna be AFK most of the day) because I have no self-control and I am also not sorry at all :)

Side note: happy birthday Luffy, my one and only sun! Here, have Ola's birth as your gift! I'm gonna try to throw something together for his birthday specifically but uhh who knows ahahah

PLEASE NOTE that this story contains MPREG (you're welcome to use your imagination on who's actually pregnant tho ahaha)

[ Read on AO3 | Extra | Ko-Fi ]

----------

Sanji wasn’t sure what he had expected when Luffy burst into the kitchen one afternoon with Law in tow. He had expected something—after all, Luffy being late for lunch was never without reason—but that ‘something’ sure as hell wasn’t what actually came out of his captain’s mouth.

“We’re having a baby!”

Dead silence settled over the kitchen as everyone present stared at Luffy with an open mouth.

“I’m sorry, who is having what?” Usopp finally asked, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

“Me and Torao. We’re having a baby,” Luffy replied matter-of-factly as he settled into a chair, grabbing for the whole chicken in the middle of the table.

Sanji automatically swatted him, “Hands off, that’s for Nami-san, Robin-chan, and Ikkaku-chan. Are you actually for real?”

“You’re mean,” Luffy whined, chewing on a slab of sea king meat unhappily, his eyes still fixated on the chicken. “But yeah? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because the Captain—You—You know…” Penguin tried, waving his hands around vaguely and obviously looking for words.

“My head already hurts…” Torao muttered, dropping into his designated chair next to Luffy, throwing his arm around the back on Luffy’s own chair.

“Well, considering Torao isn’t trying to murder Luffy right now, I guess it’s not just in Luffy’s head,” Zoro laughed, earning himself a glare from both Luffy and Torao—one of those way more threatening than the other—but he didn’t pay them any mind. Instead he raised his mug in a toast. “Congrats.”

That seemed to break the spell that had both of the crews in a stupor. Suddenly, everyone was cheering and congratulating their captains on the happy news, asking a million questions and already making plans for a celebration.

There was Franky crying his eyes out, Bepo hanging onto Law and rubbing his face against him, Penguin and Shachi fighting over who was going to be the godfather—as if the Straw Hats would let them hog that role all to themselves—Chopper so happy he didn’t know what to do with himself, and of course, Robin enveloping Luffy in a warm hug with a happy smile on her face.

Sanji wanted to feel jealous. He would be, very much so in fact, under any other circumstances.

However, right now…

Right now he had more pressing issues on his mind.

Exchanging a look with Nami and Usopp, all three of them nodded, a mutual understanding between them.

Sanji needed a cigarette.

—————

It was that very same night that Sanji found himself in the kitchen once more. This time, however, the atmosphere was much calmer… and also much more serious. The silence that hung over the room was almost oppressing, the unspoken tension felt by everyone present.

Sanji carefully placed a cocktail glass in front of Nami, who only muttered her thanks in a voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper.

Usopp seemed to not even have it in himself to protest the unfair treatment or demand his own from where he was lying slumped over the table, his eyes staring off into space and fixed on an empty spot on the wall. Sanji could understand the sentiment.

With a sigh, Sanji pulled out a chair and sat down, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it, taking a long drag. He wondered… how many chances to enjoy a smoke in peace did he have left?

It was only minutes later that Usopp finally broke the silence in a completely lifeless voice, not even bothering to unglue his face from the table. “What are we gonna do?”

“Pray,” Sanji replied, watching the smoke rise to the ceiling. Really, what else was there for them?

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them okay?” Usopp continued, gesturing with his hand as if to stress his words while still keeping his head on the table. “But can you imagine? A person, a human person who is half Luffy and half Torao? That’s not going to be a human person, it’s going to be the thing that will finally sink the Sunny.”

“Tell me about it…” Sanji mumbled. “If that baby eats as much as Luffy does? Do you have any idea what it’s like feeding one Luffy?”

“Not to mention the cost of feeding one Luffy.” Nami nodded in agreement as she rubbed the bridge of her nose; no doubt already worrying about their already strained finances.

Usopp groaned. “Even just picturing their personality is giving me a headache. We are so fucked guys.”

Suddenly, Nami slammed her glass on the table, startling both Sanji and Usopp and making both their heads turn to stare at her. She was silent for a moment longer, her eyes closed but her posture firm. It was obvious she had come to a conclusion in her mind and was about to assume command of their meeting.

Ah, Sanji loved her when she was decisive like this too…

“Listen, you two,” she said once she finally opened her eyes and gave them both a serious look. “We need to stop panicking. What is our advantage?”

“Uhm.” Usopp frowned, taken aback. “That we’re three adults against one monster of a baby?”

Nami rolled her eyes. “That we’ll be there from day one. We can be positive role models and neutralise the awful influence of their parents and their freak-genes.”

“I see. Avert the worst case scenario with positive reinforcement training,” Usopp hummed as he rubbed at his chin thoughtfully.

“Don’t talk about the kid like they’re a dog.” Sanji lit up a new cigarette before he wondered out loud, “But Nami-san, can the three of us do it? We’re up against Luffy.”

Nami heaved a deep sigh, resting her cheek against her palm as she sipped on her drink. “Well, what other choice do we have? We can’t just will the problem away and we can’t possibly… I don’t know, edit their bloodline element to not be a Luffy and Torao child.”

Sanji winced, not wanting to even think about any genetic modifications. He had had more than enough of that at three years old for the rest of his damn life. He’d rather have the kid eat twice as much as Luffy and be twice as picky as Law than anything even close to that.

(No, Sanji would never let that umeboshi fight they had on their way to Punk Hazard all those years ago go, thank you very much.)

“So, Nami… what’s the plan? Once they’re born, do we just make sure to feed them a normal person amount and teach them not to say or do creepy shit while Luffy, Torao, and Robin are right there?” Usopp asked.

Nami grubbed at her temple and sighed. “Something like that. We still have a few months, we can work on the actual plan during that time…”

“Here’s hoping,” Usopp groaned, slumping back on the table. “Man, kids are exhausting…”

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Sanji couldn’t help but agree with Usopp. He was so tired already and they only found out about it today. 

Sanji honestly dreaded the day they were born.

—————

Sanji sighed, running his hands through his hair. He wanted a cigarette but Chopper had made him promise to stop smoking. He supposed he could at least go outside for air but that would mean leaving and what if something happened while he was gone? He had to be there, he had to stay in this room with everyone so that they could help if needed. Or be there once they can meet their newest crewmember.

And no, Sanji wasn’t nervous. Not at all. He knew nothing would go wrong and everything would be fine. He was perfectly fine—

“Can you stop pacing around like you’re the goddamned father, Curly?”

“Shut the fuck up, Marimo,” Sanji snapped, baring his teeth at the man who dared call himself his boyfriend but instead was still the same asshole he was when they first met. Why did Sanji tolerate him anyway?

Zoro rolled his eyes, leaning forward to grab Sanji’s hand and pulling him closer—closer until Sanji was basically standing between the swordsman’s legs with his arms wrapped loosely around Sanji’s slowly growing stomach, his presence solid and grounding and suddenly, Sanji felt like he could breathe easier. Ah… Yes, this was why.

Sanji took a deep breath as his shoulders sagged and his whole body relaxed, focusing on the warmth of Zoro’s body against his own instead of his thoughts.

“It’s fine, Chopper’s there,” Zoro said, his voice steady and firm.

“I know. Sorry,” Sanji muttered back. All of a sudden, he felt like the idiot, getting all worked up for nothing. It wasn’t like worrying would help in any way, was it?

“Thank god, the pacing was making me nervous,” Shachi noted with laughter that sounded way too strained to be amused.

Yeah, they were all nervous weren’t they?

Sanji wished it would end already. The wait was the worst.

Suddenly, as if answering his thoughts, the lock clicked and the door to the infirmary creaked.

Everyone’s heads immediately snapped to stare as the door slowly opened, holding their breaths and not moving a muscle, their hearts beating a mile per second in their throats—at least, that was what Sanji’s heart was doing. But considering even the Marimo froze completely against him, he was sure they were all in the same boat.

It felt like hours before Chopper came into view behind the door, looking completely spent. Tears were glistening in his eyes as he looked up, his gaze taking in all the Straw Hats and Hearts that were packed into the waiting room.

Sanji gulped heavily, watching with wide eyes as Chopper started crying—at the same time as his mouth split into the widest, happiest smile Sanji had ever seen on the little reindeer.

“It—” Chopper started but then stopped as he choked on his own words. “It’s a girl. They–they’re–everyone’s doing great.”

Silence settled over the room for a moment as the information slowly sank in. But then…

“WHOO-HOO!!”

Loud cheers erupted around the room as the invisible weight they had been carrying around lifted. Sanji laughed in relief, his lips stretching into a smile. One of his hands automatically came to rest over Zoro’s arm around his stomach, squeezing lightly.

He heard Zoro huff in response, the man only hugging him closer in a wordless gesture that they both understood but neither addressed.

“Shut the fuck up!” someone finally snapped from inside the infirmary when it seemed like the cries and excitement wasn’t about to end anytime soon.

And, as if by magic, everyone went quiet, some even going so far as to slap their hands over their mouths. There were only several muttered ‘sorry, Captain’ and ‘sorry, Torao’s to be heard before the thin film of Law’s room appeared—and only a split second later, the door to the infirmary slammed shut again by itself.

“Well, I guess they really are fine…” Usopp mumbled after a moment.

“So uh. Can we meet her or?” Uni asked uncertainly.

“Who’s going to ask them though?” Penguin asked back, shooting a look at Uni, then the door, then finally at everyone else in the room.

A moment of silence passed before everyone echoed, “Bepo.”

“Why me?” the bear whined.

“Because he’s not going to kill you,” Shachi explained helpfully, which only earned him an unhappy frown from Bepo.

“Stop bullying my bear!” Law snapped from the inside of the infirmary.

“It’s fine~! Come see her!” Luffy called, completely ignoring Law.

The two crews exchanged glances, all of them hesitating to move at first but then Ikkaku sighed and got up. “Cowards,” she shot with a smirk before reaching for the door handle, opening the door and walking inside like nothing was wrong.

“Now she acts all cocky but when it was just the Captain threatening us…” Clione grumbled only to receive general hums of agreement.

But, with the spell broken, everyone slowly shuffled into the infirmary to meet the 'Pirate Princeling (gender neutral)', as Big News Morgans had dubbed her.

Was that going to be 'Pirate Princess' now?

Sanji took a deep breath, preparing himself—he wasn’t even sure what for. He didn’t fight it when Zoro grabbed his hand to pull him inside the room with everyone.

By the time they got there, a crowd was already gathered around the bed, all of them cooing and giggling as they greeted their youngest crew member, everyone pushing at each other to get the better view. It was so crowded in fact, that Sanji couldn’t see a thing.

“My, she is quite adorable,” Robin whilpered, a soft smile on her face.

“Yeah, thank god she looks nothing like the Captain,” Shachi mumbled—unfortunately for him, not quiet enough for the parents to not hear him, as proven by the swift kick he received in response, as well as Luffy’s laughter.

Nami sighed. “How the hell are you both so full of energy? I feel like I’m more exhausted than the two of you combined and I was just waiting out there, not giving birth or watching my partner do that…” she groaned as she rubbed at her face tiredly while everyone else nodded.

“Eh, it wasn’t that bad,” Luffy said with a cute little frown before he glanced at Law. “Right?”

“Yeah, we’ve had worse in a fight than this.” Law shrugged, making everyone exchange a glance.

“You’re both freaks,” Usopp decided before his tone completely changed, turning into the sweetest, most obnoxious voice Sanji had ever heard. “Little Ola, are you hearing this? Your dads are freaks. At least you are cute.”

Sanji bit back a snort. He had to wonder whatever had happened to ‘this kid will be a monster!’ which had been the only thing that Sanji had heard from the sniper in regards to the child since they were told she was on the way. Just how easy was Usopp to sell?

Because Sanji, as happy as he was for his captain and for Torao, still remembered and dreaded what she was going to grow up into. A bottomless pit who ate nothing but tuna-mayo onigiri? Did she have any idea how much work that was going to be?

No. No way Sanji was weak enough to just ignore that.

“Sanji-kun, stop hanging out in the back and come look!” Nami said, waving him over almost… excitedly.

Ah, Sanji really was left alone with his fears, wasn’t he? But he could forgive Nami at least.

“Yes, Nami-san!” he called, his lips curling into a wide smile as he skipped over to their navigator’s side.

“So whipped,” Zoro said with badly suppressed amusement.

Sanji clicked his tongue, reminding himself they were currently in the infirmary with a newborn baby, and that Chopper would cry if they started fighting. Settling to only shooting his so-called boyfriend the dirtiest glare he could manage, Sanji quickly turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

Making his way through the huddle of people, he took in the sight that was the patient’s bed. Luffy and Torao were both sitting on it as if they had just come out for tea and cookies—Luffy was sitting cross-legged on the covers, grinning like the idiot he was with his chin resting against Law’s knee where he had it pulled up. Law let him; he himself played absentmindedly with Luffy’s fingers but he also looked almost bored and ready to get up and leave, just to get some peace and quiet.

If Sanji didn’t know what they had been doing in here up until a few minutes ago, he would have thought they had just walked in on them playing cards with Chopper.

Truly freaks of nature, the both of them.

Sanji huffed, his eyes dropping to where Ikkaku was now cradling the kid in her arms.

He studied her tiny face, round and red, the shape of it so close to Luffy’s that he startled. She looked so comfortable all bundled up in her blanket, resting against the crook of Ikakku’s elbow, her tiny fist curled around Hakugan’s little finger and holding it close. She looked so fragile…

Ah.

He got it now.

And he didn’t care how much she was going to eat anymore.

“So your name is Ola?” Sanji asked as a soft smile pulled on his lips. Placing his right hand over his heart, Sanji bowed deeply. “It’s a pleasure, Princess.”

#one piece #lawlu #lulaw #trafalgar law #monkey d. luffy #mpreg #one piece oc #monkey d. ola #straw hat luffy #lawlu child #minor zosan #sanji #sanji POV #outsider pov #canon divergent #post canon #fluff #fluff and humour #humour #idk what to tag.. #katie pretends to fic #cosmicatta #thank you so much irene #for blessing us with your babies and for allowing me to write this #i hope you like it <33

[altered60]

Prompt: secrets from @roosmavprompts

Title: best kept secret...

Author: altered60

Rating: T

Tags: fluff and humour, getting together, idiots in love, misunderstanding, pining

Word Count: 2,205

Summary:

When the Dagger Squad catch up for a night of drinking before shipping out, Bradley thought he was in for an evening of laughs and teasing while he quietly pined away for Maverick. What he didn’t expect was for Maverick to drop a big secret that left him speechless, and left the rest of the Squad thinking they were sleeping together.

If only it were true.

~*~*~*~*~

Click here to read!

~*~*~*~*~

Huge thanks to the mods over at @roosmavprompts for creating the account and therefore sealing my doom as I can't resist a prompt 😂

#roosmav #roosmavprompts #secrets #my writing #fluff and humour #apparently I'm all in with these two... #RIP my free time

[shame-is-a-wasted-emotion]

Hey! I'm back with another fluffy married klaine one shot!

Thank you @bitbybitwrites for the prompt. This is for you.

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Glee

Glee Klaine

Klaine-Fandom

Relationship:

Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel

Characters:

Blaine Anderson

Kurt Hummel

Summary:

Blaine Hummel-Anderson can't resist the chill rain drops and sleep, against exhausting night study for the finals. But he doesn't have to worry when he has his husband, biscotti and warm milk!

This is written to give a little cheerful acceleration towards starting to write again, Unbetaed work. Mistakes are mine

Comments and kudos are a boast to my sore brain!

#kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine #blaine and kurt #glee #klaine fanfiction #lgbtq #klaine ff #glee fanfiction #married klaine #warm milk #fluff and humour #Fluff #tooth rotting fluff

[eliza-styx]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Mrs. MacTavish, Mr. MacTavish Additional Tags: Christmas, Scotland, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Emotional Constipation, Feelings Realization, Family Fluff, Heart-to-Heart, Miscommunication, OR IS IT, Humor, Scottish Slang, Gift Giving, Soap is girly pop, Ghost is more afraid than in denial, Hugs, POV Alternating, polaroids Summary:

Ghost honestly hates Christmas but he cannot find it in himself to say no to Soap's puppy eyes, when he asks him to come to Scotland for the occasion and visit his family. Little does he know that Soap's parents seem to somehow know everything about him and are apparently convinced that him and Soap are dating. Which they totally are not, alright? They are clearly just very good friends. Cue a heart-to-heart or two.

~~~ "Hello." Soap's mom said cheerfully. "We've heard much of ya from John." "Aye, laddie, welcome to our house." Soap's dad reached out to shake his hand as soon as she let go of him.

Ghost was so glad his body handled social interactions on autopilot for him because what did they just say? Soap had been telling his parents about him?

He politely greeted them both and thanked for the invitation but found his eyes darting above their heads to find Soap with his back turned to him, all too casually taking off his coat, an unusual stiffness to his movements.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #fluff #cod #fanfiction #self-promo #fluff and humour #meeting them parents #family

[fanstuff2]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: One Piece Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law Characters: Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates, Heart Pirates Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Wano Arc (One Piece), Wano Arc (One Piece) Spoilers, Chapter 1044 specifically, POV Alternating, Background Zosan, the zany adventures of the StrawHeart Pirates, Light Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, the crew side-eyeing Luffy like "Is he okay?", mentions of other relationships Summary:

Following the events of the raid on Onigashima, the Straw Hat pirates wonder why Luffy seems distracted on his quest to find the One Piece... And what's with his sudden rapt interest in Trafalgar Law?

Or,

Luffy almost dies, makes a deal with a god, and falls in love. Law's along for the ride.

#one piece #complete fanfic #fanfic #one piece fanfic #one piece complete fanfic #luffy x law #law x luffy #lawlu #heart pirates #au #alternate universe #alternate universe - canon divergence #post wano #post-wano arc #wano arc #background zosan #slow burn #fluff #fluff and humor #fluff and humour #mentions of other relationships #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #one piece ao3 #one piece ao3 fanfiction #luffy #law #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar d. water law

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico is going to be smote by Hades.

As he trudges through the muddy lake water, seething, he weighs each elaborated murder he has planned for each member of Cabin Eleven against how harshly Hermes will punish him for it. Connor will be flayed alive. Travis will be cooked over an open flame. Julia will be strapped to a rocket and blasted into the sun. Alice will face death by a thousand paper cuts.

And Cecil.

Fucking Cecil.

Cecil Markowitz will face a death so tortuous and harrowing that the constraints of the crime cannot be adequately covered in any mortal tongue. Crucified is too light a term. Nico is going to kill him in a way that is unspeakable — to hell with Hermes and his wrath. Nico is going to smite his dumbass children himself, and it will be worth it.

His boyfriend waits for him, lips pressed together and eyes trained to the sky, on the dock, holding several towels.

“Say nothing,” Nico hisses, slamming his sword on the wood and dragging himself up after it.

“Wasn’t going to,” Will lies. He immediately begins to cough, face turning slightly red. “Well, if I were to say anything —”

“William,” Nico warns.

“I just mean to say,” he soldiers on, setting all but one of the towels down, “that you look —”

He cuts himself off with a quickly smothered giggle.

“I swear to all that is fucking holy, Son of Phoebus.”

He lets Will maneuver him about, towel turning almost black with all the mud it’s absorbing off Nico’s clothes. He has to move on to another towel once he’s finished just Nico’s arm, dripping the soaked towel with a wet plop.

“It’s not that bad.”

Nico stares at him, deadpan. In fact he has to swipe pond scum out of his eyes and hair to glare properly.

“I am the fucking Creature of the Black Lagoon, Solace.”

Will bites his lip, hard. A burst of laughter escapes anyway, heedless of his desperate attempt to smother it, and the worst part is that it’s gorgeous and it makes his eyes light up and his stupid face looks stupid divine, when he’s giggly about something, and it makes Nico want to crush him a little. In the facial region, with his own face.

Except his own face is covered in stinky lake mud.

And Will is laughing.

Hard.

“I mean,” he manages around giggles, holding up a new towel to dab at Nico’s face, “it brings out your eyes, honestly.”

Nico closes his eyes. He lets that sit for a moment. He exhales for ten solid seconds.

“William Andrew.”

“It does! I mean, it’s really the perfect shade —”

“Romance is actually, genuinely dead.”

“— makes them look very deep, actually —”

“I should’ve listened to Demeter and married a doctor.”

“— and lake mud has so many uses! Most of the microbes on you are excellent for the skin. Who wouldn’t want to be compared to lake mud?”

“Oh wait! That is useless advice.”

“And you didn’t even pick up any leeches! Just all this dark, beautiful lake mud, as brown and beautiful as your eyes —”

“I’m returning you to whatever lab you were created in. Obviously you’re defective and I want a new model.”

“— in fact I’ll write a haiku about it.” He clears his throat. “My boyfriend is so hot —”

“Enough,” Nico interrupts, slapping his semi-clean hand over Will’s motormouth before things get any worse. Unfortunately the mud still caked into the lines of his skin contrasts beautifully with Will’s sparkling eyes, making them even bluer somehow. That’s a felony. “Also, that’s six syllables, dumbass.”

“I’ll revise,” he shoots back, muffled.

“If you promise not to, I’ll move my hand.”

Will presses a kiss to his palm because he’s a sappy loser who knows exactly what he does for Nico’s heart problems, based on the wiggle of his stupid perfect eyebrows.

“Deal.”

Nico removes his hand slowly. He lifts it back up when Will opens his mouth, threatening, but luckily he changes course before Nico has to make good on the threat, leaning down to kiss Nico softly, properly.

“I’m crucifying your best friend,” he mumbles against his lips. “That is step one of a ten step torture process.”

“‘Kay.”

“His siblings, too.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hermes might grind me to dust, after.”

“Trying really, really hard to focus on something right now, babe.”

“Right,” Nico breathes. There is still mud drying onto him and it is the Worst, actually, and he still has several homicides to play out, but.

But.

He can spend a little time kissing his boyfriend first.

(As long as that will keep him from spouting any more damn haikus.)

#dramatic nico my beloved #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #solangelo #established solangelo #fluff and humour #dramatic nico di angelo #flirting #my writing #fic #100 ways #100 ways to say i love you #longpost

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith is acting suspicious.

Lance is sure of it. Beyond his usual shiftiness, his awkwardness, his tendency towards privacy. Lance knows his boyfriend, and he knows him well, and as such he knows enough to realise that his boyfriend is acting fuckin’ dubious.

Lance is going to snoop. (Yeah, yeah, ethical schmethical. Snooping fosters distrust in relationships and makes things tense blah blah blah. Lance recognises that. He also grew up with fucking Hunk Garrett and His Entire Family, so he also recognises that snooping is simply the best way to gather information. Fair’s fair.)

He waits until his boyfriend’s snores start to kick up, making the bedroom sound like an illegal motorized lawnmower race, and then carefully starts scooching out of his arms.

It takes a while — Keith likes to hold him. (Lance has to take a moment to calm himself down after the thought, lest he start to giggle giddily to himself, reminded that Keith loves him so much that at his most unguarded, his first instinct is to crush Lance in his arms. It’s exhilarating.) But slowly and steadily he manages to slide out of the arms around his waist, filling the newly hollow space with a pillow, and tumbles to the floor. He takes a moment, crossing his legs and sitting next to the bed, to look up at Keith, at the ratty mess of his bedhead and wide open snoring mouth and the tank top skewed across his torso, the hickeys Lance left all across his chest and collarbones peeking out.

“You are such a shit,” he whispers fondly. “I love you so bad it makes me want to, like, bite you or something. You make me weird.”

He watches Keith’s chest rise and fall until his legs fall asleep, wherein he flops onto the hardwood, wiggling his legs through the pins and needles and screeching silently into his arm (worst feeling in the WORLD) until his legs no longer feel like they’re on fire, and then he inches himself towards the right corner of the room like an inchworm.

(It’s three in the morning. No one is awake to judge him to give him shit or laugh at him or anything. He can do what he likes.)

He pulls himself up to his knees when he finally makes it to the corner, loosening his shoulders in preparation. The room is dark, so it’ll be a challenge, but this is not the first time he’s done this. Hell, it isn’t even the fiftieth. He’s a nosy person. He could do this in his sleep, probably, so in the dark is no problem.

As slowly as he can manage, to make sure it’s silent, he pries off the metal grate covering of the air vent, setting it down gently beside him. Laying down on his stomach again to get a better angle, he reaches down into the wide tube, following the curve of the cool metal, arm buried up to his shoulder, until he’s reached as far as he physically can. He carefully starts brushing his hands along the air vent, searching, feeling. It shouldn’t be too far down since his arms are way longer than Keith’s (Lance enjoys calling him T-Rex, which Keith hates and literally everyone else who knows them loves. It’s great).

Finally, his fingers brush on something small, compact, sturdy, and soft. He wraps his fist around it and slowly drags it out of the vent, keeping it in his fist as he crawls out of the bedroom and down the hall, somersaulting into the kitchen. He heads over to the fridge, figuring that if he uses the fridge light and Keith walks in, he can just pretend he’s getting a snack or something, shoving the thing he found into his pants. Keith’ll be too out of it to question it, anyway.

Laughing quietly and evilly to himself as he pulls open the fridge door, he brings his closed fist up to the light, examining the treasure he found. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, to take in what’s in front of him.

He gasps sharply when he processes, and the treasure slips out of his hands, clattering loudly to the floor.

He freezes immediately, listening for the telltale signs of his boyfriend snorting awake, noticing Lance’s side of the bed is empty, then the sound of his footsteps as he comes to look for him.

But, fortunately, there’s nothing. The only thing Lance hears are Keith’s continued snores.

Rapidly, Lance scoops up the box and brings it back to the light. It’s unmistakable — there’s only one thing that houses in a small hinged velvet box. It explains the shiftiness over the last few weeks, too, the nervousness that Keith has been disgusting as mysterious intrigue.

Keith is going to propose. Keith is going to propose!

Smiling so widely his face hurts, Lance flicks open the box, bringing his face closer to carefully inspect the ring inside.

It’s difficult to see in the dull blue light of the fridge, but Lance starts to cry when he sees it, because he recognises this ring. This is Keith’s dad’s ring; old, heavy gold, classic princess cut diamond, simple and polished and elegant. This is the ring Keith often wears around his neck, although he rarely has as of late, for now obvious reasons. This is the ring Keith has carried with him for almost two decades. This is, without a doubt, Keith’s most prized Earthly possession, and his intent is to gift it to Lance, as a promise of his love and trust and faithfulness.

Lance has to sit down so he doesn’t pass out. He grabs a dishtowel on the way to the floor, pressing it to his face to muffle his absolutely wailing sobs, the most ugly crying he’s literally ever done in his life.

He’s so glad he snooped. If he had this reaction when Keith finally summoned the balls to ask him, his engagement photos would be so embarrassing.

He paused mid-sniffle.

Actually.

A little embarrassed of himself, he slides up his phone, holding the ring box up to his tear-swollen and smiling face to snap a picture. He looks like a mess, but it’s important to him to have a physical memory of the moment he first learned Keith planned to marry him. He’s sure he’ll cry more over it the next time he’s feeling sappy and emotional.

He doesn’t realise how long he sits, fridge wide open, back to the cabinet doors of the kitchen island, staring in awe at the ring, until his watch starts to beep.

“Fuck,” he curses, scrambling to his feet. It’s six o’clock. Keith’ll be up in fifteen minutes to go on his morning run, Lance has literally been mooning over his ring for two and a half hours.

He runs back to the bedroom, barely remembering at the last second time muffle his footsteps, shoving the ring back into the vent and pressing the grate back onto the hole. Keith stirs slightly at the noise, so Lance abandons any thought of whether or not the ring box is positioned back exactly where he found it and fuckin’ dives for the bed, reburying himself in his boyfriend’s arms and hoping he can pass it off as just having shifted around in his sleep or something. Apparently he squirms and kicks a lot (which is a lie that Keith perpetuates to take attention away from the severity of his snores), so it should be fine. Probably.

“Wh—L’nce?” Keith mumbles, stirring from behind him. He inhales deeply, arms pulling away from Lance’s and stretching out above him. Lance’s heart pounds. He forces himself to stay relaxed, to avoid squeezing his eyes shut. He prays that Keith doesn’t notice how sweaty he is.

Keith leans over to press a lingering kiss to his neck, then chuckles. Lance can feel the imprint of his smile on his skin, and tamping down his own reflexive smile is literally the hardest thing he has ever had to do in his entire life.

“You’re warm as hell,” Keith murmurs, dragging his lips down his neck, across his shoulders. His hand comes to rest in his hip, curling into the hollow there. “Betcha you were squrimin’ around in y’re sleep last night, ya worm. Betcha I’ve got bruises on my shins.” His shoulders, pressed against Lance’s back, shake with his laughter, because he is a shithead who is so lucky that Lance loves him. He presses one final kiss to Lance’s skin and then rolls out of bed. Lance listens carefully as he gets dressed in his jogging clothes and runs a brush through his hair. He falls half asleep listening to the familiar sounds, rousing slightly again when Keith ducks back in to kiss Lance’s head one last time before heading out.

Lance smiles as he falls asleep for real, after the sound of the front door opening and closing.

He’s gonna clown that dumbass so goddamn badly.

———

Lance has a love-hate relationship with pranks. On one hand, the one and only time he was sent into an asthma attack so bad he had to go to the hospital was after he and Hunk wrapped every single thing in Veronica’s room with aluminum foil while she was away on a trip, and upon seeing her reaction laughed so hard his lungs basically collapsed. He still can’t think of that without laughing. On the other hand, he’s had more than enough cruel pranks shoved his way, and never in his life wants anyone to feel humiliated because of something he did.

He can’t not prank Keith, though. He’s literally beat Keith to his own proposal. A prank is in order.

Usually, he’d call Hunk for something like that. They’ve been partners in crimes for most of their lives, after all. Pidge too, honestly. He knows they’d both get a kick out of this whole situation as well.

But…even if those dunderheads were capable of keeping their mouths shut, which they’re not, Lance kind of wants to…well, he wants to keep his proposal to himself. He likes being in on it. He likes being to only one in on it, actually. Honestly, the only thing he wants to do is brag to Keith that he knows, which defeats the whole purpose.

He straightens abruptly. A smirk spreads across his face.

He has an idea.

———

The first step is recon. He needs access to the ring, regularly and long-term, but all will be for naught if Keith realises it’s missing. He needs to know if Keith stashed the ring when he decided to propose and avoided thinking about it, or if he checks on it frequently and stresses himself out about when he’s finally going to go through with it. Both are very Keith options. In fact Lance wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow managed both at the same time, as impossible as that seems.

To get around the issue, Lance goes Spy Barbie. He waits until Keith goes out for his weekly coffee date with Shiro and Adam and then digs through his makeup kit, setting aside what he needs and sitting next to the air vent grate. He spends a good amount of time polishing the metal, making sure it’s as fresh and untouched as it was when it was first put in its package, and then he uses a wide end brush to apply a thin layer of highlighter to the white metal. He takes great care to ensure that no colour is visible, only a slight sheen if one were to look closely. And Keith doesn’t have any reason to look closely, and since Lance knows the universe loves him, he won’t.

The next step is waiting. Lance acts completely normally when Keith gets home, if a little giddy. Keith most certainly notices Lance’s giggles and affection and the way he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself, but he doesn’t seem to mind or question it. Lance does sometimes get like this, after all.

He scored a hot as hell boyfriend. He’s allowed to be a little awed sometimes. He doesn’t feel weird about it.

He does, however, mellow out in the next few days. Keith takes him to a car show, which is fucking wicked, and somehow manages to get himself and Lance behind the wheels of two 200 horsepower Mustangs for them to race, which is so exhilarating that Lance doesn’t have words for it. He just yells and jumps around about it a lot. He doesn’t actually manage to find words for a couple hours after he totally smokes Keith’s ass, but whatever. It’s cool. Keith tried his best and everything, Lance is sure.

A week later, when Keith is out on his coffee date again, Lance gets to work. He cuts a large square of parchment paper and covers it with clear packing tape, careful not to touch the sticky side, overlapping strips so they make one giant tape sheet.

Once the parchment sheet is covered, he peels off the tape, and as planned it comes off in one large sheet, slightly bigger than the air vent grate. Again careful to steer clear of the sticky part, he places the tape sheet sticky side down onto the grate, pressing down hard and rubbing to smooth it out completely flat. Once he’s sure it’s totally stuck down, he picks at one corner until it’s loose, then slowly and meticulously peels the whole sheet back. He holds the tape, now showcasing the concealer-print of the grate, up to the light, examining it with the utmost scrutiny.

Not one single fingerprint in sight. Keith has not touched the grate at all, hasn’t dug into his secret hiding spot. He is taking the refusing to think about it route, then.

Lance smirks. He reaches down and scoops up the ring, placing the grate back where it belongs and skipping out to the living room, humming jovially to himself.

Excellent.

———

The first picture Lance snaps, while biting his lip so hard to keep back his laughter it bleeds, is once again in the dead of night, two weeks after Lance first discovered the ring. Keith is sprawled out on his back this time, arms and legs askew, sheets tangled somewhere around his legs. Lance shifts so they’re both facing the same direction, then holds up his phone camera, trying to figure out how to artfully position himself for utmost devastation upon discovery. He decides eventually on a classic.

He heads over to the dresser to pick out his cutest pajamas, settling on the red spaghetti strap top with lace and short-shorts, debating on accessorizing and deciding at the last minute not to bother except for lip gloss, which is always appropriate. He climbs into bed next to Keith, gently laying his head on his chest and maneuvering one arm to wrap around Lance’s hips. The other he leaves flopped on top of the pillows. He leaves Keith’s mouth wide open because it’s funny, and goes the extra mile to mess up Keith’s hair worse than it already is, because that’s funnier. Finally he flicks open the ring case with his left hand and holds it to his face, grinning widely, and uses his right to snap a picture of the two of them. Once he’s satisfied with it, he untangles himself from the bed again, puts the ring away, presses a sticky lip gloss kiss to Keith’s cheek for funsies, and crawls back into bed for real. His sleep is sound as a baby’s.

———

The next photo doesn’t actually happen for another month. Lance fears overdoing it, and also kind of fears getting caught with the ring, so he leaves it in its hiding spot until the opportunity for another cheeky photo presents itself.

The opportunity in question arrives when Keith announces that he has arranged to drive down to the secluded beach that Lance took him too early in their relationship to spend the day. At first Lance thinks he’s proposing for real, and to check he waits until Keith has the car all packed up and ready to go and then pretends to run inside to go to the washroom. Instead he ducks into their room and tears into the air vent, grasping around until his fingers close around the box.

He scoffs to himself. Wimp.

He quickly shoves the box into his fanny pack (fanny packs are COOL and CONVENIENT and Lance will not hear a word of controversy on the subject, they are absolutely nothing like Keith’s dweeb utility belt) and sprints back to the car. When Keith asks him why he’s smirking, Lance manages to convince him that he’s just excited for the beach.

Lance should have been an actor, honestly.

He mostly forgets about the ring while they’re there. He has enough sense to keep it in the car instead of on the beach so it doesn’t get stolen, unlikely as it is, and just enjoys the day with his boyfriend. He convinces Keith to go jet skiing with him and cackles to himself as he purposely sends Keith flying off the back of it. He screeches at the top of his lungs later when Keith scoops him up from his nap and literally chucks him into the ice cold water. The two of them make really garbage sculptures of their friends in the sand to amuse themselves. They gather ugly seashells and send pictures to their friends asking them if they’ve been turned into mollusks, since there is a resemblance. The whole day was a blast. Lance firmly slots it in his top ten days of all time.

When they go for a long walk to watch the sunset, Lance snaps a picture with the ring and a very teasing grin the second Keith has his back turned. He will bring up how this was a perfect moment to propose, and he will pat Keith’s head condescendingly about it. He can’t wait.

———

The third photo is another dead-of-night-situation. Lance knows it’s repetitive, but it’s easy and it’s funny and Lance can’t resist.

To change things up a bit, he decides not to be in the photo, and also to see just how much he can get away with.

Keith is on his side, this time, one hand tucked under the pillow, one hand held loose and open on top of it. He’s been tired, lately, and when Lance says he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow, he is not exaggerating. In fact Lance is reasonably certain he passed out in the way down. He is KOed. He’s unconscious. He is absolutely dogged out.

The timing is perfect.

Carefully, aware of the consequences should Lance make a mistake, he removes the ring from its box. He realizes abruptly that it’s the first time he’s ever done that, despite his ridiculous quest, and he finds that he can’t quite let go of the ring just yet. The metal feels cool and smooth on his finger tips; worn, even. It’s shinier than it used to be, which means Keith has probably had it professionally retouched. Resized too, probably, although Lance can’t quite bring himself to check. The diamond catches the minimal light in the room and refracts into rainbows that fall softly on Keith’s lax face, highlighting his sharp jawline, his softly squished cheek, his relaxed brow. He looks so dorky when he sleeps, completely free of the furrow of concentration that usually resides in between his eyebrows, his resting frown. His mouth is always wide open when he’s out, and the echoing of his snores is so comically loud and ridiculous but absolutely something that Lance can’t live without. He has them recorded, actually, for the rare nights they’re not home together, on the rare night Lance has to sleep alone.

Smiling softly to himself, Lance places the ring in Keith’s open palm. He rests his hand on top of Keith’s for a moment, just because he can, just to relish in the scratch of Keith’s callouses on his skin, before pulling back and steadying his phone to snap a picture. He catches it right as Keith inhales heavily, right as his nose scrunches up.

It’s goofy as hell. It’s perfect.

———

The fourth picture is the riskiest, Lance thinks. He’s taken to carrying the ring around with him everywhere, almost as if he is the one planning to propose, just in case he has a moment when Keith’s back is turned. (There really aren’t that many. Keith faces him a lot. He likes to hold Lance hand and kiss his face, neither of which you can do from behind. Lance fucking loves his boyfriend so much.)

They’re at a Thing. Lance’s parents are celebrating their fortieth anniversary, and obviously Lance is bringing Keith, and since Keith is his mother’s favourite he is encouraged to bring his family as well, which means Shiro and Adam are coming, and if Hunk and Pidge weren’t invited then someone would cry and nothing would be right in the world, and of course Veronica is bringing Allura, and Coran comes because Lance’s dad thinks he’s the funniest man to walk the Earth. And of course all Lance’s relatives are there.

The point is that it’s a full house. A couple full houses, actually, since their neighbours are also involved. It’s a lot of people in one place.

As is protocol in crowded places, Keith is essentially glued to Lance’s side. Lance is quite happy with this arrangement, because he gets to show his boyfriend off like the hot piece of ass he is, especially to his rude ass great aunties and uncles who always had something to say about Lance and his single-ness when he was still rocking braces. So.

One thing about Keith, though, is that everyone who meets him is doomed to fall in love with him forever and ever, or so Lance has noticed. His niece and nephew are no exception, and immediately upon catching sight of their uncle — Keith, that is, Lance may as well be dead meat when Tio Keith is available, which, rude — they descend upon him not unlike a vulture may descend upon a recently deceased armadillo. Or whatever. Lance didn’t grow up in the desert, he doesn’t know what happens there.

Occupied as he is, one child hanging off each arm, Keith cannot keep his vice grip on Lance’s hand. Occupied as he is, two children talking at him in a mix of Spanish and English so rapid that Lance himself cannot keep up, which is saying something because his nickname for many years was and aptly so Motormouth, Keith cannot have his full attention on Lance. In fact, even, his back is delightfully turned.

Lance doesn’t hesitate. He flicks open the ring box and snaps a picture. His grin is nothing short of gleeful and he is entirely unapologetic.

When he turns back around, ring box stuffed back into his pocket, he realizes Nadia is staring at him with wide eyes.

“You, shush,” Lance says, and then switches to Spanish so Keith, who is still learning, will miss it, “or I’ll choose a random child to be my flower girl. I swear.”

She glares at him. “This is why Tio Keith is my favourite,” she mutters, because she is a snot who acts as if Lance does not and has not for her whole life taken her on all sorts of cool awesome amazing trips and bought her cool awesome amazing presents. Who was it who bought them recorders when they were seven to terrorize Luis with? Lance. Who was it to take them to a live rocket taking off the summer they turned nine? Lance.

“You’re a brat,” he informs her.

She sticks her tongue out at him, snickering. “Side genes.”

Lance unfortunately has nothing to say to that and also refuses to be roasted by an eleven year old, so he yanks Keith away as penance and takes him to a corner somewhere to make out. He feels very smug about it.

———

The fifth time doesn’t happen.

The fifth time is a clusterfuck.

The fifth time, it’s night again, and Lance honestly doesn’t even plan on taking another picture. He’s just next to the vent, lying on his belly, legs kicking in the air as he inspects the ring for the billionth time. He’s so excited. He can’t wait to wear this on his finger. He can’t wait for Keith to put it there. He’s can’t wait to be Keith’s husband, is the crux of it all. It’s like groundhog day except with literal euphoria. Lance is the luckiest man literally alive, and Keith hasn’t even hinted towards a plan to pop the question yet.

“You are the nosiest motherfucker in the planet, you shithead.”

Lance yelps, startling so bad he almost brains himself on the floor and nearly drops the ring. He manages to catch himself with the grace of God and also probably luck, or neither of those things, but either way Lance heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

“You scared me, you butthead!”

Keith chuckles. His voice is low and raspy from sleep, vowels still rounded from the accent that only comes out when he’s mad or drunk or tired. Lance’s belly swoops. Keith grabs Lance’s ankle and tugs, dragging him over to him, pulling him upright when he’s close enough. Lance goes into him fully, curling up into him, head tucked under his chin. Keith’s hands come to rest on top of his, sliding the ring box from him.

“How long have you known, you snoop?”

“Six months,” Lance answers. “In my defense, you were acting suspicious as all hell.”

Keith kisses his head. “Fair.”

“I need to know everything about everything or I’ll die. You know this.”

Keith snorts. He takes Lance’s left hand and smooths it flat, spreading out his fingers. “Yeah. Ruined my plans, though.”

“Oh, please. You and I both know there were no plans involved. You walked by a shop advertising ring retouching and walked in before you even thought about it.”

Keith says nothing. Lance grins and presses on.

“I bet you cried the whole time, too.”

“Shut up. I’m gonna keep the ring.”

Lance kisses him on the chest, the closest place he can reach, through his sleep shirt. “No, you’re not.”

“Mhm.” Keith plucks the ring out of the box with one hand, setting it on the ground beside them and grabbing Lance’s hand with his other. “You’re right. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move for a while, except to stroke his thumb over the palm of Lance’s hand, over and over again. Lance likes the feeling. He’s always likes the feeling of Keith’s hands in him.

“I know this isn’t a fancy dinner or sunset on the beach or with your whole family present,” he murmurs. “But I’m tired of waiting, if you don’t mind me jumping the gun.”

Lance smiles widely. A tear leaks out of his eye, dripping down his face and onto Keith’s hand.

“I don’t.”

“Good.” Keith holds the ring just above Lance’s finger, poised, ready to slide it on but waiting for permission. “Lance Sanchez, will you marry me?”

“Keith Gyeong, I would want nothing more.”

Unhesitant at last, Keith slides his father’s ring onto Lance’s finger, centring it so the diamond shines brightly in the middle. It fits perfectly.

The tears stream down Lance’s face, and he can’t for the life of him pretend that they’re not, not that he’d bother. He buries his face in his fiancé’s neck and feels Keith’s own tears soaking his hair.

“I took a bunch of sneaky pictures of me holding the ring in front of you,” Lance admits.

Keith laughs. “Of course you did.”

“I carried the ring around for months.”

“Checks out.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lance.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Keith hums, tilting his head up and kissing him properly, entwining their hands so they can both feel the ring press against skin. “No more waiting for you, sweetheart.”

———

based on this post

#i love lance he’s a SCHEMER #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #domestic klance #marriage proposal #hijinks and shenanigans #i LOVE being able to tag that #fluff and humour #whipped keith #whipped lance #bamf lance #he is a spy girlie #tall keith #implied but know it’s true #brown eyed lance #this is always true #my writing #longpost #fic #dorky lance #dorky keith #modern au #or post canon tbh it does not matter #keith just loves lance so much.

[sweetlixes]

'cause this is where i wanna be (where it's so sweet and heavenly)

(★) fandom: skz (★) ships: felix/jeongin (★) rating: gen (★) 4,451 words (★) completed (1/1) (★) inspired by skzcode mafia episodes

“Hi guys!” Lee Felix, owner of Sunshine Desserts next door waves cheerfully at them. He’s wearing his work uniform, meaning the white button up and the baker’s hat. His smile is just as blinding as Jeongin’s phone screen when he forgets to turn down the brightness at three in the morning when he wakes up for a bathroom break.

It’s only when Hyunjin nudges Jeongin’s side with his elbow that he realises he never said hi back to Felix. Belatedly, Jeongin raises a hand. “Hi, Felix-hyung.”

“Hey!” Felix waves back, genuine excitement exuding off him. “How are you guys doing? Anything interesting happen?” Felix makes his way towards them, plopping down beside Changbin. Now Jeongin can’t even pretend to look anywhere besides Felix because he is sitting right in front of him. Sighing, Jeongin takes a sip of his Americano and promptly chokes on it.

link

#jeonglix #skz #skz fics #char: lee felix #char: yang jeongin #fluff and humour #ao3 link #kara's skz fics

[athousandbyeol]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Semantic Error (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chu Sangwoo/Jang Jaeyoung Characters: Chu Sangwoo (Semantic Error), Jang Jaeyoung Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Dorks in Love, Character Study, Introspection, Post-Canon, Restaurants, sangwoo visits jaeyoung at the restaurant he works for, and jaeyoung serves him a lavish dinner, (that's basically the plot), Comfort, Light-Hearted, Food, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Idek what this is honestly, colours as metaphors Series: Part 5 of for jangchu Summary:

the younger looks at him with a subdued glimmer in his eyes that hypnotises jaeyoung in his wake. those hidden emotions are so profound and blaring that they cage jaeyoung in this frenzy of madness. so many oh's in his life, and he's going insane. utterly. hopelessly.

"there's... there's something so red about you... that makes me so... blue."

jaeyoung doesn't understand shit.

"huh?"

sangwoo strides closer, three steps into jaeyoung's territory, and asks, "can i kiss you?"

#semantic error #시맨틱 에러 #jang jaeyoung #chu sangwoo #jaeyoung x sangwoo #sangwoo x jaeyoung #semantic error fanfic #jangchu #park seoham #park jaechan #suamchan #fluff #post-canon #established relationship #romantic comedy #romantic fluff #fluff and humour #i just miss jangchu #reading semantic error manhwa gives me all the feels //again #i hope we can see them on screen again after seoham returns from the army... #they're so cute honestly #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #mood: fifty fifty - cupid #na writes #for jangchu

[thepaperpanda]

💘FLUFFEMBER🐑 Masterlist

🐼Hiya! 🐼 We are pleased to present you with our Fluffember 2022 Masterlist ♡

Essential information:

♡ the following post will serve as the masterlist for this event and will be updated with the links upon posting

♡ all works are SFW

♡ following the cut, you'll find the full list of the fics written for Fluffember 2022

Picnic [Moon Knight]

Stargazing [Vikings]

Dinner Cooking [The Hobbit]

Bed Sharing [Genshin Impact]

A Helpful Ally [Peaky Blinders]

The Emotional Reunion [Harry Potter]

A Little Nervous [Moon Knight]

Bad Hair Day [Genshin Impact]

A Rainy Night [Don't Worry Darling]

#paperpanda fluffember #fluffember 2022 #fluffember #fluffember masterlist #masterlist #fluff #fluff and humour #prompt list #fanfiction #writers on Tumblr #peaky blinders #the Hobbit #harry potter #moon Knight #Jake Lockley #Khonshu #Tommy Shelby #Genshin impact #vikings #Ivar the Boneless #tartaglia #x reader #don't worry darling #harry styles