#heidi writes

tagged by @writeraquamarinara to share four non-selfie photos! So of course it’s my babies, Indian food from a bestie day, & my reading/hobby journal monthly spread for December 🫶🏻

Like it's a simple memory where he's getting some help in the kitchen and hes calling out the ingredients to p+h who are digging in the walk-in pantry at their place whilst he's pulling onions from a bin near the floor. He's hearing all the goofy spice rack puns from Hardison's perusal in their collection and watching Parker's feet scuffling on the edge of the deep shelf so she can stand and reach the container of corn masa flour at the top.

Jars clink in Hardison's hands. "We got like three types of paprika in here, man."

"One teaspoon of smoked paprika," he says, turning to nab the right one with a little flip of the wrist. "I might need more chili powder. Two tablespoons -"

"Give it a weigh, now," Hardison chuckles.

"Man -"

"Almost got it," she says, reaching. "You said it's to thicken the recipe, but isn't corn starch good for that too? That's even higher." Her foot lifts off in a stretch, and Eliot braces before she uses his shoulder as a stepping stool. "You used it in that thing that one time -"

"It's his super secret chili recipe, babe," Hardison whispers loudly, conspiratively, moving to stand at Eliot's side at the insistent wiggle of her other foot. "That's supposed to be the secret."

"You don't use corn starch, you use corn masa," Eliot agrees.

"Right." Parker shakes her head though, ponytail waving just before the flour container falls and he drops the few onions in hand just in time to catch it. "Supposed to be."

"What are you saying? You saying it's not?"

They watch her maneuver the shelves for a smooth way down before she slips between them, a knowing glint in her eye. "It's love."

"Oh. Well, yeah. It's that's too."

Summary: Oikawa Tooru finds himself, his dream, somewhere he belongs, and the person who has always made him believe that home is more than just a place.

AO3 Link

wordcount: 37,387

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, growing up together, coming of age, post-timeskip, canon compliant, manga spoilers

tagged by @fortysevenswrites @carry-the-sky, @tuntematonkorppi &&&@myletternevercame !! [i always feel like i never do these enough so thanks babes]

this is from an early bit of the cyborg!parker leverage ot3 thing i've been plucking slowly at -

Parker leans forward in the chair. “What were you in that supply room for?”

“Mm. Needed stuff. I’m building another robot.”

“You said that already.” She doesn’t need to look around to check. She’d already mapped the place a few times. “But there aren’t any other robots in here, unless you’re counting the vacuum cleaner in your room with the glued-on googly eyes -”

Eliot suddenly laughs. Hardison sucks his teeth.

“- which I don’t, in this case. And you were alone there, too, in that room. In the dark. With me,” she says, seeing it all come together. They’d been acting vague before, speaking of things and places and distractions, and Parker decides she’ll blame the fall and his easy chuckles and Eliot’s hands in her hair for missing it the first time. Hardison leans back a little, darting a few glances toward the other man now perching on the arm of the couch. She scoots even closer to the edge of the chair, her accusation just a breath. “You were stealing.”

“So were you,” he points out quickly.

Crime is fun.

She smiles, feeling a familiar thrill run through her. “Yeah.”

For Display Only 

[wc; 3832]

Karen’s coming back from her lunch break when she spots a guy digging near the bushes in front of the store entrance. She nearly freezes at the curb. It’s hard to tell at first who it is behind the overgrown shrubbery. 

There’s only a minor alarm bell going off in her head about this, strangely enough. It’s broad daylight, for one, and this wouldn’t be the first time she’s spotted the neighborhood creep, Grotto, peering in the windows to catch a glimpse of someone shopping in the video section. Plus she’s carrying Elektra’s take-out order, and she’s not against the idea of chucking it at the dude to make him get the hell out of here. 

He’s got a distractingly deep line of sweat trailing down his spine, though, when he comes into view and she finally spots the dark gray Anvil Landscapes logo on his t-shirt. 

Karen takes a moment to appreciate her relief and the soft grunts from his effort in getting the boxwood roots out of the ground. She sips from the diner’s to-go cup in her hand to keep cool. “Hey, Frank.”

“Hey.”

He’s assigned himself their storefront - that’s what Elektra says, anyway. The company he works for shares their little strip mall with a discount shoe store on one side and a barbershop on the other, and they’ve all agreed to let Anvil send the bill when it comes to landscaping. Frank comes over about once a week to rip up any weeds or trim the hedge back or water the white rose bush she likes so much.  

"Gotta say, I thought you were Grotto for a second."

"Ahh," he shakes his head against the bush. "You know that piece of shit couldn't get by here without trampling through half of this."

"Yeah."

"Plus, Curt's already threatened to beat him with his prosthetic if he caught the guy in the area again."

"Oh, so he's got dibs?"

"This week, anyway." His tone is joking, but she knows he’s serious.

[also my first in like, forever, sorry! AH]

tagged by @carry-the-sky

“I’m fine,” she repeats through gritted teeth. She’s still shoving clunky 3-pronged plugs aside to dig deeper into the collection. “I just need a new cord. You’re gonna slow me down.”

“Hey, okay,” he says, hands lifting at his sides in surrender, stepping back. “I get it. That’s cool.” It is decidedly not cool. He’s seen this kind of thing when his roommate, Eliot, gets back to the dorm after an underground fight somewhere and he’s too stubborn to ask for help and he’s gotta watch the guy basically lick his wounds by himself until Hardison can’t stand it any longer.

She’s not looking directly at him when he backs himself out and into the aisle again. He checks his mental grocery list again and picks a few things off other shelves and shoves them in his backpack before he circles around to her other side.

For a second, under the sweep of his flashlight, she freezes.

It’s a head wound. Maybe a concussion, too, he thinks, looking over the bright, wet, red streaks he hadn’t seen from where he was standing before. “It’s just… I’ve been in here enough times. Class requirements, you know. Maybe I could help. More hands on deck, right? Get in, get out, we’re both cool. Maybe I find you a washcloth, some Neosporin, I dunno. What kind of cable are you looking for?”

Her shoulders slump a little, like she’s realizing he’s not gonna leave her alone. And she’d be right, if that were the case, he thinks, because he’s not. Still, she takes in the space, looking around the dark room like it’s the first time. “You know computers?”

“Do I - ? Yeah - Yes, I know computers,” he says, leaning against the shelf. “I’m more of uhh… A robotics engineer, really. I make stuff, but I - I dabble, you know. I’ve hacked. I can… Do other coding. I build a lot.”

There’s a moment where he can hear the ringing silence in the room again before she thrusts the frayed and bloody cord towards him. “This, then? Can you build this?”

“May - maybe? Probably. What does it go to, did you bring it with you?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” she says with a frown. 

“Woman, you are covered in blood and broke into the engineer’s closet, and I’ve never seen you around before, so I don’t think you’re actually a student here. I think I have a little right to.”

“Fair enough,” she nods, shifting her hair from her face and brushing it all away from her neck. Hardison catches just a glimpse of a tiny smile on her lips. “It’s for this,” she tells him simply, revealing a series of diamond-studded dermal piercings along her hairline, and a real-life, honest-to-god connection port embedded into the skin just behind her ear.

“Uhh.” 

She sighs. “Don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

tagged by; @myletternevercame [<333]

He catches her eye in the reflection of the glass as she moves to sit down again. “You done checking me out from over there?”

“I’m not admitting to anything,” Karen says quickly, coolly, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. It’s a little burnt, which is just how she likes it, and his ears are turning pink, his mouth curving into a smile, which is just how she likes him.

“No?”

The soft and surprised look in his eyes is charming, but she can see how he plays her for an answer. She shakes her head, hating and knowing full well that she’s smiling because of it, and digs in on her breakfast. “No.”