#also not me taking every opportunity to share a wip because it's almost been a month since i last completed a fic

[librathefangirl]

🍃🌺🌙If you receive this you make somebody happy. Go and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get it back even better 🌙🌺🍃👉👈

AWW THANK YOU!! 💜💜 Here, as a treat you get a little something from an upcoming fic:

Elizabeth stood among the carnage of the battle, wounded allies and enemies alike surrounding her. The blood coating her clothes and skin painted a morbid picture. Blood-Stained Ellie, Hendrickson had learned the demons had once called her. The blue of her eyes had vanished. In its place was the sharp orange of a goddess. Massive white wings spread behind her, ready to take flight at a moment’s notice. Her clenched fists shook. Her gaze was locked on Meliodas’ fallen form as another wail broke past her lips; the anguish turning into wrath.

This one is called Wrath of Light, it's one of my Febuwhump fics (yep, still working on those XD). It's for Day 23: “You’ll have to go through me”. So it'll still be a while before this one's completed, but I think you'll like it.

[luna-loveboop]

Wait...

It's November. It's November first. Yesterday was October 31st, so October is over. ...it's over. Is it over?

Inktober, artober, whumptober, flufftober, linktober, every tag ending with -tober that's been circulating for the past month... is it over? I don't know why it's just hit me but...

This matters. So I will try to get the message across, even though I'm not the best at it sometimes

Fanartists, fan writers, artists, fic writers, people making comics, every single one of you that has created art for the past month...

Thank you

This is my first October on tumblr. When I started seeing the "tober" tags, seeing the posts from artists with wips, saying they were going to make something every day to a prompt, making masterposts to update with each day, I thought "cool"

But every day this month, I have gotten on here and smiled.

And I don't mean smiled. I mean I smiled at least 20 times every time I got on the app because I saw all the art and fics. I got to see artists/writers connect stories through different day prompts. I saw people having the most brilliant ideas and creativity, flowing from their hands into their posts. I saw artists responding to continuous asks, telling them how amazing they are. I saw artists getting behind, and keeping going.

I saw Free. Beautiful. Emotional. Amazing. Original. Creative. Art.

Every day

I haven't committed to anything of this before, so I can't directly relate to what you guys were thinking and feeling. But I'm willing to guess; I think you probably enjoyed it, because most won't do such a huge project unless they enjoy it. I think you probably saw it as a challenge you were willing to fulfill, and an opportunity to grow and develop your skills.

... but I'm also willing to bet you did it for us. For people like me, who love art, but don't do this specific type, who are in fandoms, who love tracking and watching you art and sending you compliments, who take joy in your work. For the other artists (and writers!) who admire each others styles and love to learn from each other.

If anyone ever tries to tell me that humans are inherently evil again, I will strap them to a chair, pull up these posts and say look. Look at what these people did. Look me in the eyes and tell me these sorts of actions don't come from the most loving hearts. Tell me these people don't want to make others happy, that they aren't inherently good. And I will tell you you're wrong.

I have so much going on, yet somehow it slipped into my life that I was constantly looking at your art for the joy of it without me even noticing.

And how is it possible. That we have such a beautiful community of people here that we will share. And communicate. And exchange compliments. And literally do things and send asks solely for the purpose of making someone smile.

I'm almost crying by now. God I can't express it well enough! But I am so. So. Grateful

You guys brought me a month of joy! You gave headcanons, and art, and stories!

Even yesterday, Halloween, I was blown away. Because I had expected... I didn't expect anything. And then I log on and see people sending happy halloween asks, exchanging doodles of candy, and headcanons and gifs.

And some are still catching up to the schedule or whatever, and that's ok! But at the beginning of this post, when I was simply realizing it was November, I asked myself "is it over?"

Is it over?

... I don't think so. I've seen artists say they're going to continue and expand on a piece they made and especially liked this month. Some people are still continuing, catching up to a voluntary deadline. All those masterposts with your whump/fluff/link/ink tober art? I know many as well as myself will be going through, looking over your posts with smiles, catching up on some things they missed this month... it will continue in the people and artists I didn't know existed before, but now follow. In the skills and growth in creativity! In the community we've grown, and art you've made, and the art to come, at a normal rate like every other month, even if it's not October anymore!

But my artists, writers... thank you so much. I don't know if you guys know how valuable and amazing you are. How incredible it is that you exist! People say it's amazing we exist under a sky of such stars, but how incredible is it that you made a stranger on the internet smile every day! Your life is so. So. Valuable. I can't even express how grateful I am that you exist, that you somehow are selfless enough to share the most beautiful parts of yourself simply to create, and to create joy. Thank you so so much.

(And this applies to all artists, in any fandoms, not just mine. And I'm just as grateful to people who couldn't do something every day, or only one day! You still share your art, you're just as... incredible. You are incredible.)

Okay.

So I'm gonna do this, and if others want to do it in the reblogs that's great! I do not care at all about reblogging or likes, but I want to make the people that have brought me such joy some appreciation- I hope I can bring you even a smidgen of the light you have brought into my life. So I'm gonna tag all the artists/writers I know of/can think of that have done any sort of October challenge, all of you creators that have made me smile. If people wanna want to tag others in the reblogs or replies to spread love that's cool.

(Basically I don't know social customs or anything at all, so if you don't want me to tag or if I was supposed to do something different or something let me know I have no idea what I'm supposed to do)(if I like accidentally tagged someone who isn't an artist/writer or forgot someone I follow... sorry)

@skyward-floored @kikker-oma @adrift-in-thyme @blueskittlesart @zeldaseyebrows @smilesrobotlover @bahbahhh @soso-dedeck @lennsart @arecaceae175 @illcamp @breannasfluff @solarfire-art @26kabeuchi @cathianemelian @truffeart @scribbly-z-raid @uniquevoidflowers

To all the artists and writers out there: thank you so much!!! You are amazing and I'm glad you exist. Your life is precious, and you matter. Thank you so much for sharing your beauty with us, we love you too!!!!!

... yeah. Just want yall to feel loved... because you are. Again, thank you. Thank you so so much to my beautiful creators who create joy as well as art, who keep storytelling alive. Just... thank you.

:)

[laufire]

several sentences sunday

My most slice-of-life* WIP is (what's supposed to be) this preboot one-shot with established!Jaytim and past!Jayroy where Tim and Roy somehow end up teaming up, bonding about Jason, and this leads to Jason and Roy reconnecting as friends. Because I want my favourite guy to have good things once in a while, amidst all the dying and suffering and brainwashing and and and several other ordeals I put him through in other stories xD. I've shared earlier versions of this excerpt on DMs and I thought I might as well put it here. Under the cut, because it gets a bit long.

*for now... catch me adding plot smh

-

“I bet you two talked about me,” Jason teased him.

Tim, distractedly setting the table, hummed in confirmation.

“Oh?”

Tim zeroid in on that little sound; on the almost too long pause preceding it. “All good things,” he reassured him, smiling.

Jason’s face remained carefully, uncharacteristically neutral; in someone naturally so expressive, Tim had learned to interpret that as a sign of deep inner turmoil.

“Seriously, Jason,” he added, trying to impress weight on every single syllable, “Roy thinks the world of you.”

Although Jason’s shoulders relaxed, Tim could tell that his mind wasn’t in the room with them, not wholly, for the duration of their dinner.

Later, when Jason, even silent and pensive as he was, maintained the routine of keeping him company while he insisted on doing the dishes, guest or not, as it'd been Jason's turn to cook, Tim took a deep breath and told him: “You could call him.”

“You want me to reconnect with my ex?” Jason asked, words dripping skepticism.

The truth was that, initially, Tim had briefly entertained the idea of saying the same thing to Roy, imagining he'd be less likely than Jason to overthink it and take a first step that'd Jason have to react to. Old habits died hard, but the few conversations about what Jason had to say about Tim's mediation and meddling and busybody tendencies did their work.

The reason why the idea came to Tim at all was that after just a few hours with the man, it was plain to see that Roy, even if they hadn’t actually spoken in a couple of years, was someone who could be counted on to be in Jason’s corner.

Tim still remembered the first time he spoke with Talia after he started dating Jason. It couldn’t be called a shovel talk; Tim had been the target of one or two of those, and they all dripped paternalism, condescendence, and a lack of respect for the boundaries of the person they were supposed to shield. Talia clearly respected Jason’s choice –she, simply, didn’t think much of Tim, on his own. But although she didn’t have the warmest way to show it, Jason was one of her favourite people in the world, and if that was the close he'd get to a shovel talk on his behalf, it was the first one Tim was happy to receive.

It was also in stark contrast to Bruce’s reaction when Tim told him. He’d bypassed all the arguments about why Jason would be bad for Tim, maybe presuming someone else had already failed to convey them, and instead spoke of all the ways Jason wasn’t mentally capable of handling a relationship, and of all the ways Tim would set him back once their relationship inevitably went down in flames. Tim had gone cold, utterly furious, and warned Bruce off repeating those words aloud anywhere Jason could hear them.

Roy, albeit cordial and warm in comparison, had landed on the Talia-est end of the spectrum. He'd clearly taken the mission as an opportunity to suss Tim out, proding to see if he was good to Jason, and showing at every turn that he knew well the value of what Tim had with him. It was a novelty in his circle.

To sum it up: Tim would welcome in anyone who was on Jason’s side, truly on Jason’s side, no matter what they thought of Tim’s presence in his life or how it could affect him. And Roy seemed to fit the criteria.

“If you think that’s something you’d like to do, then yes: I want you to reconnect with your ex,” he parroted.

[hippolotamus]

Hi sweetheart 🫶

Please tell me/ snippet me about Mirrorball, Weather and Time, You're where I wanna go, and Bridgerton AU? (I'm being so restrained by not asking for them all)

James, my darling, my love. I know this is from an older ask game but I will never miss an opportunity to yell about this WIP. It is quite possibly the love of my life as far as creations are concerned. Thank you for asking about it. Some words for you. This is Buck's POV about the train ride to Chicago. The amount of time for the trip is a total guess on my part but the tears shed while I wrote this little bit were very authentic (all previous snippets here)

After three days on the train, Buck is ready to be almost anywhere else. Even if that place has a temperature that’s barely above freezing. He’ll accept that in exchange for being able to stretch his legs, to breathe crisp air that bites when he inhales and isn’t tinged with thick, black smoke from a steam engine.  The ride itself wasn’t awful. By all modern standards, especially compared to the coach passengers, it was smooth and comfortable. He and Lucy had access to any amenity possible. A private sleeping area, their choice of plush, cushioned chairs, and a private dining table.  Buck’s two favorite features were access to the observation car and the ability to talk to the conductor any time they wanted. He had a seemingly endless stream of questions about the train and its parts, fascinated by the enormous wheels, gears, and pistons and what made them run.  At night, when the crew was scarce and Buck couldn’t sleep, he found himself drawn to the grand glass panes that afforded a spectacular view for miles in every direction while it was still light. While that was noteworthy, he preferred the safety of darkness. An inability to distinguish small nameless towns from rolling fields of wheat and grass. At most he could see countless stars dotting the inky expanse as they sparkled and shone alongside the moon, appearing as a silvery sliver that might be plucked from the sky if only he tried hard enough. To anyone else, the view was practically worthless. But to him it was the reprieve he so desperately craved, as much there as any other setting. Because in the absence of light and detail, of giddy chatter from another pair of newlyweds that are sickeningly in love, there weren’t cabins and houses that might have been home. No bright mornings spent chasing until he was inevitably caught and rolled in the dirt, being rewarded with laughter and kisses. No afternoons in the shade of the giant oak, or on the porch if it was raining, listening to the soothing cadence of devastatingly pretty words from a book of poems. No evenings watching the sun set before falling into bed himself, wrapped in the kind of love only found in fairytales.

Also, I couldn’t say if I’ve ever shared the teeny tiny playlist I’ve started for this one but here it is 💞

I can’t remember who was or might be into this so I’m gonna take a guess at some lovelies and hope I got it right 😘 @daffi-990 @shortsighted-owl @bidisasterevankinard @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening

@tizniz @bi-buckrights @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@the-likesofus @thekristen999 @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @wildlife4life

@loveyouanyway @diazheartsbuckley @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons

@spotsandsocks @your-catfish-friend @filet-o-feelings @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings

@giddyupbuck @kitteneddiediaz @jesuisici33 @watchyourbuck @shipperqueen6

@saybiwithme

[invasionaugems]

Invasion AU Update!

Hey guys! @redrrrre here!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it (three years to be exact!)? I’m not sure how many people are still even here after so long. I teased this a few months ago, but Invasion AU is coming back and the next part of it will be coming out in the upcoming next few weeks! After such a long hiatus though I wanted to let you guys know where I’ve been and why I was gone for so long!

The long story short is that my dad’s cancer unfortunately relapsed and he passed away. He was my biggest artistic supporter and without him I had a hard time picking art up for quite a while and almost just quit it entirely. I’ve gotten back into it now, but it definitely took some time to get back into the kick of things.

My love for Steven Universe and this AU NEVER left and is honestly the strongest its ever been, and bringing this AU back when I’m ready and my life has finally settled down has been on my mind frequently the past few years and I feel like now I’m finally ready!

I won’t be doing a “formal restart” or anything because I’ve already done that a few times and I DONT want to do that again. But I hope I can make this next part of Invasion AU more interactive with asks and people who read it! The first few pages will be in an actual comic strip form, so please do tell me if you prefer for me to keep it like that or if we want to go back to the one panel per picture format or somewhere in between/switching back and forth. I’ll also take any other suggestions if anyone has them, and if you’d like you can start submitting questions again. Here’s a reminder of what this AU is about!

Again, I want to thank everyone for putting up with me and for all the past support for this AU and any future support this AU might get moving forward. Words cannot describe how much I appreciate every read and question and I’m glad I have the opportunity to share this AU with others again! :D

Here are some sneak peak WIPs!

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

"I don't want to sleep without you".

An excerpt from a WIP.

What you need to know: The team (Castle, Beckett, Lanie, Esposito, Ryan and Jenny) head to Castle's place in the Hamptons for a weekend getaway. Early Caskett, their relationship is still a secret and so they are trying to "play it cool" but still taking every available opportunity to sneak 'moments'. Also, Beckett is sharing a room with Lanie for the weekend.

In the scene immediately before this one, Castle and Beckett managed to sneak to the beach for a midnight stroll. They come to the obvious conclusion that Beckett should sneak into Castle's room for the night but upon returning to the house, Ryan and Jenny are in the kitchen and so their plans are foiled. So Castle is a little pouty...

Enjoy! :)

The Ryan's and their midnight honey milk - while objectively adorable - were the bane of his existence right now.

He had been so close - so freaking close - to getting exactly what he had been craving all day long. But, alas, poor planning and the Ryan's with their bad timing and stupid honey milk had burst that little bubble.

He returned to his room; wired and worked up, definitely in no state to even be considering going to sleep. So, he did the only thing he could think of: pulled out his laptop and let his imagination run wild on the blank page, saving his beloved Nikki and Rook from the misery of the abrupt ending he had suffered tonight.

Writing did absolutely nothing to ease the tension that coiled in his core.

He had known this weekend would be tough; to have to keep away from Kate, to have to sleep alone, to have to act like they were nothing more than friends when he was being haunted by the memories of the last time he was here, just two short weeks ago: the two of them all alone, free to kiss and to touch and to explore the boundaries of their new relationship with no fear of the outside world's judgements.

He loved his friends, loved the time they all spent together, but boy was he regretting inviting them all this weekend.

Three soft taps on his bedroom door pulled him from his thoughts and immediately simmered the pent up frustration he felt. He placed his laptop on the end of the bed, pulled himself from the cosy cocoon of pillows he had nestled into and made his way across the room.

When he pulled open the door he wasn't surprised to see her - who else would it be at almost 2 o'clock in the morning? - but given their near-miss in the kitchen not that long ago, he definitely hadn't been expecting her.

He poked his head out of the room, looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was around. He grabbed her gently by the elbow and pulled her into his room, closing the door behind them.

"They've gone back to bed," she assured him with a smile.

He didn't say anything, barely even acknowledged she had said anything before he cupped her face, pulled her close and pressed his mouth to hers.

His hands made their way to her waist. Unable to resist the feel of her, he toyed with the worn cotton of her sleep shirt, slipping his fingers under the hem. Her skin was like silk, soft under the warmth of his touch. Needing more, he pressed his palm flat against her torso and allowed them to glide up her ribs.

"Why aren't you asleep?" he asked, mouth still pressed to hers, breaking away from their kiss only because his lungs begged for more air.

She draped her arms over his shoulders, wrists crossed behind his head.

"I thought you might be lonely," she said with a casual shrug. She looked to the side, her eyes landing on his bed. "It's an awfully big bed for one person."

She looked back at him, her eyes locked on to the deep ocean blue of his.

"You are more than welcome to keep me company." He pressed his lips to hers; a soft, sweet kiss. "But what about Lanie?"

She pulled back and narrowed her eyes. "What about Lanie?"

"What happens in the morning when she wakes up and you're not there?"

Kate smiled her reassurances. "She's a smart girl, I'm sure she can put two and two together."

"Yeah..." Castle's words faded as his brow furrowed in confusion. "I mean, isn't that kind of exactly that you were worried about?"

"I'll deal with that tomorrow. I just- I don't want to sleep without you," she admitted in a soft whisper.

He smiled, pulled his hands from under her shirt and shook his head slightly. "Me neither."

[achairwithapandaonit]

Tag Game: Ten First Lines

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

tagged by @aobawilliams

1) Finny can’t get her words out of his mind even weeks later.

2) A detective is a person who investigates and solves crimes. A great detective is something more than that. They’re someone fantastical, right out of a novel, who sweeps into the scene and with just a look deduces everything.

3) The bento box weighs heavy in his hands. Izuku peeks inside to see hard boiled eggs, sliced cucumber, and octopus sausages. Stomach lurching, he’s quick to close the lid and set the container in the middle of the bench he’s sitting on, between himself and All Might. He folds the bento cloth carefully and puts it there too.

4) Time spent with the director is hard to find these days. It’s an hour of downtime at the agency spent lying upside down on the sofa in Fukuzawa’s office, the ends of his hair touching the floor and his feet hooked over the back of the sofa as he plays on his DS. It’s a long day, where Ranpo hangs around past closing time to accompany Fukuzawa back to his home uninvited. 

5) It’s hard to stitch up a wound one-handed. You can’t thread the needle by yourself, because you need one hand to hold the needle and another to hold the string, and once it’s threaded, you have to go as slow as you can, pushing the needle through flesh with as much precision and care as possible. Once that’s done, you can’t even tie the thread off by yourself.

6) Giyuu returns to him with slit pupils and blackened claws for nails. He stares at Urokodaki from just outside the temple grounds, eyes an ice cold glacier, body limp and still as if he is a spectre. Drool drips from his mouth, a low growl emits from his throat, and his fingers clench on nothing.

7) “What are you doing?”

8) Oda Sakunosuke can say with confidence that he has never met anyone as clever as Edogawa Ranpo before. His eyes see through everything and his brain works twice as fast as any other, making almost every situation one of boredom and frustration for him. With every job they accompany Fukuzawa on, Ranpo walks into the room and deconstructs would-be crimes like a starved dog catching its teeth on fresh meat.

9) The thing is, Shiho had always known. She’d been aware. Once she left the Organisation, she’d have nowhere else to be.

10) The warehouse he’s been lured to is dark and cavernous. A single sound can be projected across it in a second, like a gunshot in an empty room.

this is meant to be wips right and not posted?? anyway here u are. a lot of them aren't ones i have any interest in continuing (tho digging up that shiho one again has me salivating over the au like i wish so so hard it wasn't so hard to write. aoba you know what i'm talking about. i want it so bad but it's so hard). also rip to my longest current wip that makes me go the most insane having one sentence to open it (number 7, this is to you).

and umm like usual i won't tag anyone but anyone's welcome to take this as an opportunity to play the tag game

[anondudeao3]

(Also, since I'm sharing random bits of creativity haha)

Please enjoy this prologue from a WIP

Disclaimer: this is simply because I cannot contain myself and I really love this and want desperately to share it haha. Do not be fooled into believing this is an indication the finished product may be coming soon. I truly have no idea. I have, like...over 50 WIPs for this account haha — I never know when any of them are going to be finished until it is upon me.

And...I beg of you. Stick with it, it's the end that I love so dearly, but the set up is necessary.

Jason is angry. 

Maybe it's more accurate to say Jason is anger. 

He's trying, he's really making an…effort to at least try to be more levelheaded and reasonable now that he's supposed to be a Bat again, but he's still always just filled with so much…rage. It flows under his skin, molten and burning and viscous like magma, just waiting to burst forth at the slightest opportunity, lurking there for the moment it can surge out and entomb the next unfortunate soul in his path in its inescapable, blistering clutches. 

He feels like a monster. 

He feels like his rage is an entire other being that forcibly wrestled the wheel out of his grasp, and yet he still feels he's entirely at fault for every action it takes in the driver's seat of his brain, because it's his. He wants those things, he wants to do those things, he feels those things, even if the smothered voice in the back of his head says it's wrong, that he'll regret it later (if he ever manages to take the wheel again. He wonders if that's even a possibility. It feels impossibly out of his grasp).

He's managed to achieve more of a balance lately, managed to unsmother that voice, and shove aside the rage sometimes even if he can't shove it back or down, but that means it's still always there, right there in the forefront of his mind, boiling his brain and frying all of his other emotions to ashes until only bitterness is left. 

He feels so elemental, like there's hardly anything left to make him up at all; only thin skin that barely contains a sea of magma roiling over an impenetrable wall of igneous rock around his heart, like he was almost made inside out. Isn't normal people's fire on the inside, instead of licking at the outside world through their very pores with every breath? Aren't their walls like a protective exoskeleton? Jason had failed at normal a long time ago, though, hadn't he.

There's a knock on Jason's safehouse door, and Jason fucking burns with hate at being interrupted. The little voice in his head tells him he's being unreasonable, that he's only been cleaning his weapons and allowing his thoughts to simmer through the shimmering heat-haze of his emotions that he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to get used to no matter how long he's been dealing with it. (He wonders if it's a useless endeavor to even think about trying to tune such a thing out some day. He wonders if it might even be dangerous. If his rage really is a separate entity by now, one that could maul him when he's no longer looking). 

It doesn't matter what the little voice says though, he feels it, he feels it.

It matters what the little voice says. He sets down the pistol, and goes to get the door.

Dick gives him a friendly smile and a bright, "Hey!" and Jason feels another surge of haterageresentment swell in him at the sight.

But he only says a curt, "Hi."

Dick steps forward, forcing Jason to either step back or blatantly block his entrance, inviting himself in as if it doesn't occur to him that he might not be naturally welcome in Jason's space. Like he might not just intrinsically belong here.

Jason sits with this swell of anger as well, as he shuts the door behind him while Dick makes himself quite at home on the ratty couch Jason had dragged in from an alleyway that had smelled like cigarette smoke and rotting leaves and old piss, as most Gotham alleyways are wont to, in Jason's experience. At least the sofa doesn't smell like that anymore. Mostly.

Dick still looks happy for some fucking reason, as Jason approaches him. Jason stops a good meter and a half away, still standing and now crossing his arms tightly over his chest, deciding it's probably better this way. Probably better to keep him out of striking range, out of the way of temptation, far enough that it might take more than a few seconds, at least, for any errant flows of lava to reach him.

"I'm really glad you're back, Jason," Dick says, looking unaccountably earnest, and Jason doesn't know quite what to do with that. His anger roils confusedly below the surface in choppy waves, trying to surge but continually falling back on itself as it has no idea what for. "I missed you. I'm so glad you're back with us, and I just— I feel like there's so much I did wrong before, and so much more I could have done, and I don't— I don't want to lose you again. I want— I understand if it's more…difficult and you can't jump in all at once, but I want to have the relationship we never got to have before; I want to be someone you trust this time, someone you can rely on. You're family, but that's just a word if you don't make anything of it. I want to. I want to be closer this time…if you'll let me."

Jason's insides have gone still. And he's still just as lost at sea.

"I…" Dick hesitantly adds. "I know I'm not alone either. Alfred would be absolutely over the moon to spend time with you." He pauses again. "Maybe we could…all have tea some time when Bruce isn't at the manor?"

Jason stares at him, because he doesn't know quite what else to do, and in that moment, Jason…feels something in him break. He feels like something soft and raw inside him is suddenly left exposed to the elements, and the utter vulnerability makes panic flicker through him, but Dick is still holding his gaze — eyes clear and open, and friendly smile lingering, like he means it. Like he means every bit of it. And everything about him whispers terrifying, with the way he's cracked Jason open; and everything about him whispers safe, like no matter what turns out to be underneath Jason's hard, igneous shell, he wouldn't flinch back, he would open his arms and shield him from the world himself.

"Okay," Jason manages, and Dick smiles like the sun, and Jason feels another flicker in his chest. Not fear this time though, and finally — finally — not anger or its bedmates bitterness and hatred either. Something…lighter. Softer. …Hopeful? Bright. Not the fires of rage, but a warm spring sun.

[gallavichgeek]

FIC WRITER INTERVIEW

Tagged by the talented @ms-moonlight-inn​ to answer a few questions P.S, I’m sorry it took me so long to reply to this, October has been a hectic month for me but I’m excited to answer. 

💜💜💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

35 - wow, really? 👀

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

537,565

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Saving Grace (It means the world to me how much you all love this fic, but yes, it is still hidden. I’m hoping I can share why very, very soon)

His Name was, Slave

South Side Forever

Sex Tape

The Ian to Mickey’s Cal (This is a collaboration piece)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Hell Yes! Every single one. And I try not to let them sit there any longer than 48hrs.  Comments mean the world to me. I love reading my reader's reactions, their thoughts, their predictions. I want to thank them not only for taking the time in reading and leaving a comment but I also want to let them know that I feel the way they feel and try and hint at anything that I can for what’s to come. 

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Two Kisses - I am known for a guaranteed happy ending, but this was something else. Emotions took over my body when I wrote this and I ALMOST didn’t post it, but my readers voted yes to me posting, however, I don’t think they were prepared when I said it was angst heavy. It’s one of my lowest kudos fic and I’m not surprised. It’s so sad. 

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

All of them. Even if the whole story is full of pain and suffering, it will end with a happily ever after. I feel like canon put Gallavich through enough pain that I don’t need to add to it via fics. 

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Once. The Ian to Mickey’s Cal explored gamer Mickey meeting Ian Gallagher, the model behind Cal Kestis from his favourite Star Wars game. It’s probably the only crossover I’ll write and honestly, it was purply because Ian and Cal are both played by Cameron, the opportunity was too great to pass up. 

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yep. And as much as it can suck, it’s kind of a compliment. Fan Fiction is designed to make sure no one reads anything they don’t want to, hello tags/author’s notes. However, I’ll still get a reader that will go forth and read something that they don’t like or that makes them uncomfortable and then write an essay about how terrible it is that I wrote such a fic. It’s my job as an author to push my own limits, see what I can write, and what I can explore. If I try something new, will it get the same love and appreciation as what I’ve written ten times before? I want to know if it’s my writing people enjoy or my genre. Do they read my work because they know what to expect or because I might push some boundaries? I still have my own limits, subjects I won't touch, but still, I’ve received hate, some valid, some just petty. 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Do I write smut, please, is the grass green and the sky blue? 😏😈 And the only smut I write is Gallavich because that’s the only ship I write. 

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

God, I hope not. Thanks for putting that thought into my head. 

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. I’ve been honoured to have 3 or 4 of my pieces translated into Russian. 

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have. My first experience was with @camnoelgallavich and we wrote The Ian to Mickey’s Cal together.  I am currently co-writing with another wonderful author within this fandom, more to come soon but I know you’re all going to love it. 👀😉🙊

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

No ship has ever hit me as hard or stuck with me for as long as Gallavich has. If you want to know who else, we may be here for a while, I mean, how far back are we talking here?😅😜

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Hmmm, WIP's none. But I have series that I want to add to. I make sure to end each update in a place that could feel as though it’s complete but I have plans to add to them, it’s just other ideas hit me and I want to explore those also.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told in my comments that I write as though my readers are watching a movie. I like that thought. Whether it’s the detailing or the way I lay out the scenes, it’s enough to give my readers a visual to get lost in the world I’m creating. 

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I feel as though I need to write every moment in-between A-Z. If I want to get my characters somewhere I forget that I can jump forward a little or move to a new scene without explaining everything that happened prior. 

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Tried it once for a sentence or two, but I know when I read it in fics and I have to google it or read the end notes to know what it says which therefore involves scrolling up and down, it personally makes me feel disconnected from the story.🙈 

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Gallavich

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Honestly, if I haven’t written for them yet, it means the bond isn’t strong enough that I want to try and write for them. 🤷🏻‍♀️

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Besides Saving Grace, I’d say Hope.  That story, which can be read alone or within the series has such a special place in my heart. It was written before s11, kind of my own version of what I hoped the final season would be like because I just wanted to see Ian and Mickey happily married, exploring the world of trying to become parents. It’s wholesome without losing the essence of Ian and Mickey. I had a lot of fun fixing what the show screwed up within that story/series too because we all know those writers made a lot of mistakes, but that’s a whole other story. 

Thank you for reading, hope you like my answers. I’m not sure who hasn’t been tagged so I apologise if I tag you and you’ve already done it. @filorux @takeyourpillsbitchh @camnoelgallavich @shannee10

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work In Progress Wednesday

Helllooooo! I am back in action and have been successfully working on my WIP. FINALLY. And today I am here with the sass and cuteness. I am posting a slightly larger snippet this week to make up for what I didn't post last week. I hope you all enjoy what I have to share. I had SO much fun writing this. Tagging the usual suspects: @nocturnalswarehouse @oblivions-dawn @sneaksandsweets @dumpsterhipster @romantichore @blossom-adventures @rose-like-the-phoenix. As always, feel free to share anything you have but don't feel obligated to do so.

I'm also reposting some art which goes with this chapter which my beautiful art friend sneaksandsweets gifted me. I think it helps set the mood. Contact her if you'd like to talk about commissioning her!

Snippet (WC: 759):

Carefully, she crunches her way through fallen needles and dead undergrowth, the normally green vibrant color of the conifers has changed to dull brown due to the lack of rain and the heat. As she makes her way closer to where she knows their camp is placed, her eyes scan quickly in every direction to be on the lookout for any of her Stormcloak brethren.  

Despite the fact that faint orange light is still filtering through the trees, which should mean animals and soldiers alike should be out and about. However, the forest is mostly silent, which tells her one thing: someone or something is out here. If she had to guess, she’d say it’s one of her comrades stalking herself: the woman stupidly dressed in Imperial armor who had the “misfortune” of walking too close to their camp. It would be best for her to play along with anyone she comes across. She doesn’t want to accidentally hurt one of her own.

She stops leaving them a clear opportunity to come after her.

A twig snaps. Hands reach out to grab her, shoving her face down into the ground. A sword makes its way to her throat.

“Don’t make any sudden movements, Imperial bitch. How in Oblivion did you make it this close to our camp?”

When she hears the voice, she actually relaxes. At least this will be easy to talk herself out of.

“Ralof, it’s me.”

For several seconds there is silence. He’s no doubt calculating the discrepancy between the red armor and the familiar voice he hears.

He quickly removes the sword from the back of her neck and extends a hand to help her up. “Dahlia? What—why in Talos’ name are you wearing that?”

“That’s an interesting story, and I’d very much like to get out of this armor and make it back to camp without being attacked again. Would you mind escorting a lady home?” She rubs the back of her neck, and charges a weak healing spell. She’ll have to give it to him; his blade is sharp.

He snorts. “I don’t know about lady, but I can certainly help you make it back in one piece.

They two joke companionably as they walk back, and because Ralof is with her, no one gives her any trouble, even if they all stare at her. He marches with her straight back to the officer’s tent where she can spy Ulfric and Galmar talking outside of the entrance. They must have just finished a meeting, or an afternoon of drinking mead. It’s hard to know which with those two. 

They both narrow their eyes when they catch sight of her, not quite being able to distinguish her features quite yet.

“Don’t either of you recognize me?” She calls out to them.

Confusion crosses both of their expressions. This is almost fun.

“You’re wearing the wrong armor? Did you get tired of ours so quickly?” Galmar asks as she gets closer to them.

However, all Ulfric does is stare, eyes focused and running down her body with an enigmatic look. A shiver runs its way up her spine, and she chooses to ignore him for the moment; his stare is unnerving her.

“Oh, am I now? I hadn’t noticed.” She spins for effect. “Did you expect me to march into Dragon Bridge in Stormcloak blue? I ditched my uniform. So, unless you expected me to walk into camp naked, this is all I have to wear.”

“I take it you were successful then?”

“Would I be back if I weren’t?” She raises a challenging brow to him and takes the papers out from the pouch at her side, handing them to the General.

Finally, she decides to address Ulfric with a smirk. “Had I joined the Empire, this is what your demise would have looked like.”

His deep blue irises meet hers, flashing dangerously in the low light of the dusky twilight quickly setting in on them.

“Indeed.” He states mildly, but follows it with an unexpected question. “And what makes you so sure that you haven’t already brought my own demise upon me?”

“The fact that you’re still standing in front of me.”

“Woman, one of these days, you’ll be the death of me. Mark my words.”

“Or perhaps I will be your salvation?”

Galmar makes a choking noise. “If you don’t have anything else to report for the moment, I’m leaving. You two are enough to cause a man to drink. Come on, Ralof. You can help me with these papers.”

[verona2314]

It's already WIP Wednesday again!! Time to share works-in-progress, writing or art, for Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss!

I had been tagged by @man--eater , finally, I decided to share a fragment of the chapter 24 from the fanfic I'm writing. I hope you enjoy it. (I know im late im sorry!) (Tomorrow its the next update!)

I will tagg @empressofashed

Stolas flashed a polite smile, although his gaze sparkled with a mix of interest and caution. He was familiar with Alastor's reputation.

“You must be Alastor, the infamous radio demon. The princess was telling me about you,” Stolas replied in a deep voice, every word measured. “The pleasure is mine, though I must admit I expected you to be a bit more… intimidating. This hotel is more… gleaming than I imagined for someone of your… caliber.”

Alastor let out a soft chuckle, delighted by Stolas’s subtle provocation. He was also a master of verbal games and was more than willing to keep dancing.

“Oh, dear Stolas, you’d be surprised how well a place like this can serve my… purposes,” he said, leaning on his cane as his smile widened even further. “I must say I’m surprised that someone as… busy as you would come here just for a ball.”

Stolas clasped his hands behind his back, looking around before fixing his gaze back on Alastor. “I know you’re aware of the importance of this event,” Stolas replied softly. “I thought it prudent to ensure everything is in order. After all, when it comes to nobles and… relevant figures, it’s best that things go perfectly.”

Alastor nodded with exaggerated theatricality, although behind his mask of courtesy, Stolas’s comment about “relevant figures” did not go unnoticed. He knew that Victoria, as a judge of the limbo, would be in the sights of the nobles, and that worried him more than he was willing to admit.

“I understand, I understand,” Alastor said, tilting his head. “After all, we wouldn’t want anything less than perfection to befit a noble like you. But I wonder, is it just the event that brings you here? Because it seems you have something more in mind… perhaps a special interest in the guests.”

Stolas looked directly at him, smiling with a calm that only reinforced his authority. “It’s always prudent to know those who have influence in… certain spheres. And as you may have noticed, Victoria is someone who has caught the attention of the nobility. It would be a mistake not to take the opportunity to meet someone so important.”

Alastor maintained his smile, but something inside him tensed. Was Stolas not just here for an event but also to sink his claws into Victoria like all the nobles who saw her as a key piece? “How interesting…” the radio demon replied in an almost sweet tone, though laden with venom. “I have no doubt that Victoria will be a topic of conversation among the nobles. After all, her position is unique. But one must be careful… sometimes the things that seem so within reach can be the hardest to catch.”

Stolas let out a brief laugh, aware of the implicit challenge.

“Don’t worry, Alastor. I always know how to get what I want. But I appreciate the advice.”

They both fell silent for a moment, sizing each other up. Although they were meeting for the first time, it was evident that this encounter was far from the last. They both knew that, in hell, every misstep could be fatal. And for Alastor, the idea of Stolas or any other noble getting too close to Victoria was not something he could allow.

[prismatales]

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: Mirio Togata x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Fluff fluff and more fluff, Mirio being a nervous wreck, little pinch of insecurities.

Hello there! It’s been a while but I’m back with some BNHA Fluff starring the sunshine boy himself! This is my entry for Anilysium’s sfw Collab. This month the prompt was “Accidental Kiss”, you can find the masterlist with everyone’s works here! 

This idea has been sitting in my wips since September and it was the perfect opportunity to work on it! Hope you guys enjoy it! Special thanks to @vivianvampyric for beta reading, I loved all of your suggestions, baby!

No matter how many times you thought about it, every single time was just as hilarious.

How can somebody as brave, cheerful and fearless as Mirio Togata be as nervous as his childhood friend, Tamaki Amajiki, at the idea of a confession? The same guy who faced the head of the Yakuza without hesitation is currently sitting beside you with rosy cheeks, looking around the park nervously while one hand brushes the back of his neck.

“So, you wanted to talk about something, right?”

When he asked you to meet him in the park during the weekend, you never expected this outcome. It’s almost like you’re standing before a completely different person as he continues to look away.

“Ahaha… it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” He asks.

“Ah, yes it is.”

The way Mirio avoids the question confuses you, but it’s the way his hand clutches his knee anxiously, the way he coughs lightly, and the way his eyes avoid you to watch  the children playing nearby,  that makes your eyes widen slightly.

Could it really be what you think it is?

The more you look at him, it becomes more obvious that he’s having a hard time expressing his thoughts.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?” He stated simply as you nodded in response. 

“Yeah, remember the first time we met?” He groans as you giggle at the memory. During your U.A. entrance exam you ended up in the same testing area as Mirio. He could almost hear your shrill cries of embarrassment after he used his quirk in front of you for the first time. “Talk about first impressions, huh?”

Neither of you can stop laughing at the memory, thinking of all the good times from high school as well as the bad, which only helped you grow stronger.

You both went through hardships, providing each other a shoulder to lean on. But maybe you could be more than that one day…?

“You’re sweating a lot. Mirio, are you sure you’re okay?” He just nods quickly, pulling at the collar of his shirt that suddenly feels awfully suffocating. Despite all the emotions running wild through his head, he never stops smiling,  which is something you will never stop admiring, no matter what. It’s exactly that optimism that made you develop feelings for him in the first place.

“I’m fine, I'm fine! I just… There’s something I’ve wanted to ask for a long time.” He stays quiet for a short period. Once he takes a long, deep breath that soothes his nerves, his whole attitude shifts instantly.

With the confidence of a thousand men, Mirio rises from his seat on the bench to stand before you with a determined look on his face. It’s a simple gesture, but it’s more than enough to make the heat in your face grow within a matter of seconds, paralyzing you in place as you stare back at him with the fabric of your sundress clutched tightly between your fists.

After taking another breath, Mirio finally gathers the courage he needed to speak.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, and you’re also one of my closest friends.” Did he just friendzone you? “You’ve always been there for me, from the moment we walked into the same classroom, to all those times we needed help watching Eri. And we never stopped talking even after graduating, and I love having you around.”

What is this weird aching inside your chest? It’s almost like there’s something crawling its way through your ribcage, slowly approaching your heart to crush it in a deathly grip.

“Ahaha… yeah, it’s unbelievable, isn’t it?” You almost want to whimper on the spot, feeling like a small child after being scolded by their parents: Small, sad and vulnerable. It’s too good to be true, isn’t it? That the guy you’ve had a crush on for years feels the same way about you? 

You snap out of those negative thoughts when he takes your hands in his own. They’re much bigger than yours and covered in scars; you can feel the texture of each and every single one, all proof of all his hard work and dedication.

“The thing is,” his thumb traces small circles on top of your hand, making your heart beat faster against your chest. “I want to be more than friends with you!”

It’s incredible how a couple of words have such strength, enough to make the hammering in your chest intensify at a deafening pace that you swear even Mirio can hear. The words stay jammed in your throat, unable to come out through your trembling lips, which you lick nervously.

You’re so nervous that all of your senses feel like they’ve been amplified. Everything sounds so far and so close at the same time. The pounding in your chest, the lively chirping of the birds, the children playing behind Mirio: they sound closer than before, the noises blurring together into an incoherent mess.

“I love how you help everyone around you. How brave and fearless you are. That little scrunch of your nose whenever you’re deep in thought. That cute laughter of yours. I want to—!”

The sound of a loud smack can be heard in the distance, followed by a surprised shout from Mirio. All of sudden, you feel a blunt pain on your forehead as Mirio is suddenly pushed forwards and his face smashes painfully against yours. At the same time, a soft pair of lips come crashing down upon yours and his blue eyes are wide open as they stare into yours. There’s a shrill ringing in your ears as you’re trying to process everything going on.

Mirio’s body is draped over yours, one of his hands pressed firmly against the back of the bench to stop the fall. Neither of you move from the shock, caught off guard by the sudden change of events. Your mind is a cloudy mess when Mirio’s lips finally part from your own, leaving you both in a daze.

“I’m sorry sir!” A small voice snaps you out of it as Mirio turns around in surprise. One of the children from before is standing nearby, holding a red ball with an embarrassed smile. Are they sorry because they hit Mirio with the ball or because they interrupted?

You don’t know, but keep staring silently at their small frame as they run away with that ball clutched in their tiny hands.

“Hahaha...Talk about unexpected.” Once again, Mirio’s scratching the back of his head, chuckling as he looks away in embarrassment. But hearing those familiar giggles of yours makes him look back at you. “Everything okay?”

“You know, people usually start dating first before sharing their first kiss. But that was nice too.”

Mirio blinks repeatedly, processing your words over and over as you stand up from your seat, trying to smooth the wrinkles in your dress after clutching the fabric so hard.

“Does that mean... what do I think it means?” 

“...Yeah, it does.” Your head is tilted gently to the side. “I like you too, Mirio. And I feel the same way.” 

“Good,” He grabs your hands again, slowly lacing your fingers together. “Good. Can I… kiss you again?”

“Mhmm, just be careful of flying balls this time.”

Taglist (If your name is in bold I couldn't tag you.)

@bnha-ra @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @unbreakableeiji @pixxiesdust @hawks-senseis @yikerb @definitely-yours @khemz1312 @sadskater25 @ruinedbyatrashcan @lemonadencran @honeytama

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

Noticing the Little Things

-shows up a week late to Kiss Ryuji Day with Starbucks- I’ve contributed to a fandom event! mo you didn’t contribute shit I’ve contributed! Took a break from Misguided Wingman, so instead of a WIP Wednesday, y’all are getting 6.6k words of fluff instead!

Under a cut cause that’s a little much, and link to AO3 in the reblogs cause tumblr does terrible things to posts with links in them.

Hey, come meet my mom!

Ryuji had sprung the offer on him last minute via dead of the night text. It wasn’t as though he’d been trying to catch Ren off guard intentionally; it was more a matter of this being her first full day off in nearly a month that hadn’t fallen through for one reason or another. Ren had quickly learned that those sorts of days were few and far between, and notoriously difficult to plan around because of it. Even rarer were the days where both Sakamotos’ schedules lined up for a full day of quality time, especially now with the addition of Phantom Thievery. And Ryuji had offered to share this once in a blue moon opportunity with his best friend. Naturally, even as tired as he’d been when the message came through, Ren had jumped at the chance. For once it (mostly) didn’t have anything to do with his crush on his best friend that could have been viewed from space, Ren was just excited to finally meet the woman whose praises Ryuji’d been singing since they met.

The next morning, Ryuji had texted him again uncharacteristically bright and early--especially for a Sunday--hoping to put their heads together for something nice to do for her. He didn’t want her to do a bunch of work on one of her rare days off and Ren didn’t blame him one bit. He pitched the idea of takeout; no effort to cook, no dishes to wash, only trash to take out after. Ryuji shot it down, hesitant to admit that they couldn’t quite afford enough takeout for all three of them this late in the month and even less willing to ask Ren to cover the whole thing. Which meant going out to eat somewhere was probably also a no-go. And then Ren was struck by divine inspiration.

Or rather, he looked down at the breakfast that Sojiro had so kindly prepared for him before Leblanc opened. And then he texted Ryuji.

What if I made curry?

And that was how he ended up spending the rest of his morning at the grocery store, picking through produce with such a critical eye that it would have brought a tear to Sojiro’s. He’d assured Ryuji several times over that it was no trouble, he needed the practice anyway and he’d gotten some sizable bonuses from a couple of his jobs, so the shopping was no issue. Ren sent the list of what he needed and, after a little more convincing, Ryuji had sent back a list of what they didn’t already have in the apartment, as well as a promise to have the kitchen ready when he arrived and to do dishes after all of his friend’s hard work. On top of the rest of his list, Ren added a nice tuna filet for Morgana, who’d be stuck in Yongen all day rather than risk getting anyone in trouble for bringing the not-a-cat to the Sakamoto apartment.

Ren double checked his bags and tried to shake off the feeling that he was missing something while Morgana halfheartedly berated him between bites of fish for being left behind. Halfway down the stairs to the cafe, it hit Ren and he couldn’t help but feel a little dumb for forgetting. His thumbs skated over his phone screen to ask Ryuji a question, only to get a question himself from Sojiro.

“Got everything you need to impress your mother-in-law, kid?” His tone was teasing as he looked over the boy’s armful of groceries. Ren sputtered an objection that was less actual coherent words and more disconnected, indignant noises, red as the bell peppers he’d selected as his caretaker chuckled. His phone buzzed as Ryuji’s answer came in.

“Actually…” Ren managed after the worst of the heat faded from his cheeks. “I was wondering if I could borrow a couple of things?”

-----

“Out.” Ren commanded, brandishing a freshly washed carrot like a dagger and flicking the water off of it at his friend.

“Hey! It’s my kitchen!” Ryuji argued but stepped back anyways with his hands up in a vain attempt to shield himself from the droplets.

“They’re my groceries. Go sit, I’m cooking.” Ren retorted and turned back to the cutting board. Sakamoto-san’s laugh could be heard from the living room, not that that was very far. It was a small apartment and the kitchen and living room weren’t so much two separate rooms as they were one room about the size of Leblanc’s attic interrupted by a short stretch of countertop. When he’d first come in, Sakamoto-san had scooped up the groceries from Ren’s arms before he’d gotten half a word of greeting out, Ryuji had dragged him off for a quick tour of the apartment, and he’d come back to everything he’d need laid out in a neat array next to the stove in the five minutes he’d been distracted.

“He fusses if he doesn’t get to help.” She explained while Ren worked. “He does it to me, too, y’know.” He couldn’t help but wonder with a roll of his eyes where ever could his best friend have gotten that habit from?

“Oh I fuss if I don’t get to help?” The blond asked dryly and then helpfully voiced Ren’s inner sarcastic inquiry: “Wonder where I picked that up?” A smile found its way onto Ren’s face as they continued bantering back and forth while he worked, Sakamoto-san sipping on tea in front of the television and Ryuji leaning on the counter from the living room side to watch his best friend cook.

It was comfortable, but not quite in the same way Leblanc had become; the cafe was a place to rest, to breathe, to hide. His attic bedroom felt undeniably safe, but was somehow paradoxically isolated from the world around it and almost entirely devoid of privacy. The apartment, though… With the sound of the tv providing soft background noise to Ryuji and his mother’s easy conversation and the smell of curry spices filling every corner of the small space, it felt safe in a way that felt like home, in a way the attic hadn’t quite managed yet, in a way his own home hadn’t really felt since he was a little kid. Something tense in Ren’s chest unwound and he hadn’t realized he was humming until Ryuji and Sakamoto-san had stopped talking to listen. It wasn’t even particularly good, at least as far as he was concerned, but it was the only way to get rid of the Velvet Room’s mysterious song when it got stuck in his head like it lived there. The silence stretched for an uncomfortable beat when he realized he had an audience.

“Um.” He glanced up from the frying pan for a moment, then quickly back down to it to hide his blush after meeting two matching sets of wide, brown eyes watching him. Nothing like an unblinking stare to make one self-conscious. “S-sorry. Did I interrupt you two?”

“Oh no, not at all! You have a lovely voice, Ren. Don’t let us stop you.” Sakamoto-san insisted with a kind smile that turned a little too knowing as she glanced over at her son.

“Yeah, man, you ain’t gotta quit ‘cause of us.” Ryuji affirmed, still watching him with a grin and a warm, wide-eyed look that the other boy couldn’t quite put a name to. “And she’s right, you’re pretty good. Hell, maybe we shoulda gone to that karaoke place for real the one time so you could show off.” Heat rose to Ren’s face that had nothing to do with the food he was cooking.

“Well, we could always go back, make that our next celebration after-- uh,” Ren quickly changed course before he accidentally blurted out ‘after the next change of heart’ in front of Sakamoto-san, “after exams. Get everyone together, take turns picking songs, that sort of thing.” Ren suggested. “Of course, that means you’d have to sing, too.”

“No way--!” The blond tried to object before his mother cut him off in her own excitement.

“Oh that sounds so fun!” She grinned more widely, with a mischievous gleam in her eye. Ren had seen an identical look on her son’s face enough times to slightly dread whatever she was about to say. “Maybe you boys could do a duet? I know a few songs that’d--”

“Mommmm!” Ryuji groaned indignantly while Ren smothered a laugh and prayed any color in his cheeks could be written off as a result of leaning over the hot stove.

-----

Ren watched a flurry of movement from where he’d gotten up to stir the curry and break out the pour-over setup. Boss had only let him borrow this one because it had been chipped a few years prior--still functional, but no longer restaurant quality--and because Ren had laid the flattery on especially thick when he begged to use it.

“Ooh, you’re gonna make coffee? I’ll be right back, I know what else’ll go perfect with it!” Ryuji had jumped up and all but bolted for the door. “Be right back!”

“Wait, I was just--” He tried to tell the blond, but the door had already snapped shut before he could finish, “--setting it up.” He sighed and offered a helpless shrug to Sakamoto-san. “It’s supposed to go with the curry, but that’s going to be simmering for a while.”

Sakamoto-san chuckled and smiled fondly in the direction her son had disappeared. “You know how excitable he can be, and he’s been looking forward to introducing us for a couple of months now.” She stood and stretched with a groan, then walked over and leaned on the counter. Ren could practically feel her gaze on him as he worked; even with as warm and casual as the look on her face was, something in her eyes felt scrutinizing. He was being sized up with no idea as to why. Sakamoto-san’s smile stayed in place, as gentle as before when she asked, “why not brew us each a cup anyway? Ryuji’s been raving about the one you made him and how well it’d go with old lady Ueda’s ginger peach danishes since the beginning of summer. And since he’s even less of a coffee drinker than I am, I’m eager to see the master at work.”

“If you want to see the master at work, you’ll have to come by Leblanc and meet So-- um, Sakura-san.” He explained with a nervous, slightly forced chuckle of his own. After a moment of internal debate, Ren nodded. “But I did bring enough for everyone to have a couple of cups. Couldn’t hurt to see if you like it as much as Ryuji does. Maybe I’ll impress you just as much, Sakamoto-san.” That had been exactly why he was doing this, why he had worked so hard to convince Boss to part with even a little of his cafe equipment.

She barked a laugh at that and startled Ren enough that he nearly knocked over the bag of coffee he’d traded away a full week of work for. “Two things. Three, actually. One, please just call me Hana. Because, two, I’ve been impressed with you for months, kid. And, three, don’t beat yourself up if you can’t impress me as much as Ryuji ‘cause that’s gonna be an awfully high bar to clear. I don’t know exactly what you did to do it, but you pulled him out of…” Hana-san trailed off with a sigh, and then continued with a slightly thick edge to her voice, “out of a pretty dark place, y’know. My boy adores you.”

With that and the overwhelming warmth in her eyes, Ren could feel his own throat tightening, but he managed to choke out a weak, “O-okay.” And then he couldn’t force anything else out. How were you supposed to react to hearing your probably-unrequited-crush’s mom tell you that said crush adored you? As if she could read the question on his face, she reached over to clap him on the shoulder encouragingly.

“Don’t worry about sayin’ anything, My sunshine’s told me you’re not much of a talker. Just make sure you keep showin’ him how much he means to you too, alright?”

“I will. Thank you, Hana-san.” He finally replied and got the same annoyed frown he’d gotten from Ryuji two days into their friendship, when he’d met his new nickname with Ryuji’s family name. Although responding to Renren with Sakamoto back then had been an attempt at teasing on Ren’s part, calling Sakamoto-san by just her given name felt like too much.

The door creaked open and pulled her attention off of Ren as Ryuji came bouncing through, nearly forgetting to kick off his shoes in his excitement to deliver the prized pastries.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this one was formal, sunshine.” She sighed. “And damn, I’ve never seen you make that trip so fast. You that excited to show off to your Renren? ” Ryuji squawked in offense and Ren could feel his face flame at how she’d emphasized his nickname.

“N-nah, he could probably sense that I was just about to ask about embarrassing baby pictures is all.” Ren deflected as he went back to prepping their coffee.

The only thing better than the look of utter betrayal Ryuji gave him was the one of unbridled delight on Hana-san’s face.

-----

Dinner had passed cheerfully, if somewhat raucously, as Hana-san and Ryuji regaled their guest with stories about Ryuji’s childhood, and the boys entertained her with stories about their time together since the beginning of the school year. Ren felt himself opening up more and more easily as the meal had gone by and even shared a few stories from his time working at Leblanc, as well as the specifics behind balancing the night’s coffee and curry. As per usual, Ryuji didn’t really seem to be absorbing the specifics, but seemed more than happy to watch his friend talk about something he was enthusiastic about. Ren was even openly laughing by the end of dinner while he and Ryuji recounted the time they had met up for lunch after separately incurring Ushimaru’s wrath by falling asleep in class, then bursting out laughing at each other’s identical chalk bruises on their foreheads. They didn’t mention that each of them still had the other’s half of the subsequent selfie set as their phone’s home screen.

Afterwards, the atmosphere in the apartment settled a little when Ryuji shooed both his mother and his best friend out of the kitchen to sort out leftovers and wash dishes. In the meantime, Ren and Hana-san sat in comfortable quiet in the living room while half-watching the talk show on tv and enjoying the last of the coffee and danishes. Ryuji had been spot-on, Ren noted, the flavor paired beautifully with what he’d been secretly calling the Kidd Blend since he first got his right hand man’s seal of approval. As per usual, even if Ryuji didn’t have a head for the specifics, his instincts were unparalleled.

“He’s got good taste, right?” Hana-san remarked as she watched Ren’s thoughtful chewing. He nodded. Again with that uncanny ability to read him; it would have been unsettling if he hadn’t already been used to it from Ryuji and just figured that she was where he got it from. She cracked a smile after taking another sip from her coffee and said, “I gotta admit, I was skeptical when he said it was good enough to go with our favorite dessert. Figured he was just talking you up again ‘cause I’ve never had a cup of coffee I actually liked. I only drink it if I need the caffeine fix. But this? This is damn good.” Hana-san drained the cup and let out a satisfied sigh before she settled back a little further into her seat.

At that point Ren had been keeping a running tally of how many little gestures and features Hana-san and her son had in common. Despite their differences physically--where Ryuji was tall and all lean, hard lines, Hana-san was considerably shorter than her son and built soft and sturdy--there was no denying they were mother and son with as many quirks and features as they had in common. The same warm, brown eyes that tilted upwards just a little at the outer corners; the same bright smile that lit up their entire faces and laughter that filled every corner of the room; the same animated manner of speaking, all open expression and wild gestures to tell a story; the same bright quality to their voices, loud and boisterous without being overwhelming. The same way of making him feel like he’d known them all his life within the span of a few hours. That last one was about when he’d lost count, and therefore couldn’t say where he was when he noted that even with the difference in their specific posture, the two even relaxed the same way when they sat. Ryuji tended to sprawl out and Hana-san seemed more comfortable curling up when she sat, but they both had something loose and open about the way they sat, something oddly approachable.

“You’re always welcome to come by Leblanc, Hana-san.” Ren said with a smile, then added somewhat proudly, “Although I’ll have to direct Boss since Ryuji only gets coffee when I make it.”

“We’ll see if I get some time. And seriously, kid, just Hana is fine. I’ve heard enough about you from Ryuji that I feel like I already know you.” She insisted.

“Wh- really?” His head snapped up from his drink. He knew that he and Ryuji were best friends, probably the closest friends that either of them had ever had. But he hadn’t actually thought about the fact that that meant Ryuji talked about him to other people. It was probably silly the way something that obvious could warm him from the inside and fill his chest with butterflies, but it did.

“Oh yeah. Honestly, I knew I liked you before he ever even said your name. It was like out of nowhere his grades started picking back up, I wasn’t getting any more calls about him skipping classes, he seemed motivated again, like he hadn’t been since…” Hana-san looked over at Ryuji, busy and oblivious in the kitchen, as her face darkened and her voice dropped before she continued, “since before that sonofabitch broke my boy’s leg.” The bitterness passed after a moment and she fixed Ren with a gaze brimming with that same overwhelming warmth and kindness from before. “I knew that whoever it was that brought my boy’s smile back… that was someone I wanted to meet, y’know? That was someone I wanted to thank. So, thanks Ren. You brought my sunshine back.”

“I… You’re welcome.” Ren mumbled. “It’s not…” He stopped himself from saying it wasn’t a big deal because that definitely wasn’t true. “I mean, he did just as much for me.” Then he took a sip from his coffee, at a loss for what else to say.

“I’m sure he did, he’s a good boy. But this is me thanking you, not him.” She shrugged as she watched him drink and her smile went crooked as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “Still, I guess if Hana is too informal for you, you could always just call me Mom. Might as well get in the habit now, right?”

So. Hot coffee coming out of one’s nose was very painful. That was the immediate sensation that momentarily distracted Ren from the shock of Hana-san’s statement. She jumped up in surprise as he choked on his drink, then quickly grabbed a dish towel from the nearby counter and handed it to him. He coughed a few times and wiped at the surprisingly little amount of coffee that he’d gotten on himself, before finally clearing his throat and wheezing out, “Excuse me?”

Hana-san was very clearly trying not to laugh at him while she gave him another of those warm smiles that just confused him this time. “I know you two are dating, I’m not blind, kid.” Ren’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Hard. It prompted another coughing fit and Hana-san couldn’t hold back from laughing this time. “Even if I was, I still would’ve picked up on it. You two are too obvious. It’s sweet, really. The way you light up when you’re watchin’ him? And the first time I finally got your name out of him, you were suddenly the only thing he wanted to talk about. ‘ Hey mom, I’m hanging out with Ren today, don’t worry ‘bout dinner for me, we’re gonna get ramen. Man, can’t believe Ren’s never been to a real arcade before. His hometown didn’t really have one, so I’m gonna show him my favorite tomorrow. Hey mom, me and Ren are going to the gym today, yeah we’re gonna be running, yeah I’m running again, didn’t I tell you? Nah, I don’t need anything for my birthday, I know money’s tight this week and Renren’s taking me fishing so it’s all good. Hey, did you know Ren hung the moon? Ain’t that sweet of him? I should do somethin’ to say thanks.’ Like I said, kid. Ryuji adores you.” Hana finished softly. Almost ruefully, but he missed that part. Ren’s head was spinning, out of sheer confusion and excitement and terror and hope that he’d been aggressively stomping down for months, as well as the fact that all the blood in his body seemed determined to rush to his face all at once.

“He… told you we’re dating?” He managed hoarsely, eyes flicking to Ryuji still washing dishes and still completely oblivious to their conversation with the water running. Did… Had Ryuji confessed to him without Ren realizing? Had those moments he’d dismissed as wishful thinking, bein’ free and my place is next to you, actually been what he hadn’t dared even hope for?

Had he been dating Ryuji Sakamoto this entire goddamn time without even realizing it?

“Well, no. At first I thought it was because he was nervous about coming out to me. I did what I could to let him know it wasn’t an issue, and since he never really changed how he talked about you, I figured he must have just been so excited to have such a wonderful boyfriend that he just... forgot to tell me.”

Ren barked out a rough laugh and then winced at the way it grated on his scalded sinuses. “Then that would make two of us, Hana-san. If I had realized this was that kind of ‘come meet my mom,’ I would’ve convinced Sojiro to let me bring one of the top-shelf blends.” A hollow laugh escaped him as Hana-san’s face fell.

“Oh. Oh… Ah shit, I’m so sorry! I went and made things awkward with him now, haven’t I?” She winced apologetically and looked down at the dishtowel when Ren handed it back. “And wasted that fantastic coffee on top of it, too. You’re sure you’re okay?” Ren waved the apology off.

“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it, Hana-san.” She frowned at him and he finally relented. “Hana. I just... have a couple questions for him now. That I have no idea how I’m gonna ask.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at Ryuji again, who was nearly done cleaning up the kitchen.

“Well, good luck when you do. But I don’t think you’re gonna need it.” She assured him with a wink and a gentle clap on the shoulder. “So, if that wasn’t the top shelf stuff, what was it? Besides still pretty damn killer, obviously.”

“Huh? Oh. Second from the top. Still took some serious convincing and I’ll be working behind the counter at Leblanc all week to make up for it.” Ren flashed Hana a tired smile. “Worth it, though. Every non-coffee-drinker I impress is a win in my book.”

Her laugh in response took the sting out of his embarrassment. And his slightly burnt throat. “Well then, guess I will have to find a minute to come by, enjoy me some coffee, curry, and a captive audience.” Hana grinned and Ren couldn’t help but return it.

“I’ll look forward to the company.”

-----

Rather than walk straight to the closest station, Ren and Ryuji had decided to take the scenic route and loop through a nearby park once first. Ren stuck close to the blond, given that he was a lot more familiar with the area as one of his go-to running practice routes. That and, while it was refreshingly cool for Ryuji outside the apartment, Ren ran colder than his friend and was starting to get uncomfortably chilly. As if on cue, Ryuji fell into step right next to him and threw an arm around his shoulder, and Ren felt himself immediately relax into the touch to leech his right hand man’s body heat.

“I’m really glad you finally got to meet my mom. Glad you hit it off with her, gotta admit I was kinda nervous at first.” Ryuji finally said.

“Really? Why?”

“Well you know after my old man took off, it was just me ‘n her, yeah?” Ren nodded. “Even when I had other friends before… everything, Mom was always my best friend. Lame, right?” Ryuji gave a halfhearted, self-deprecating laugh. Ren nudged his shoulder a little more firmly against the blond, not willing to let the disparagement pass uncontested.

“Not at all, she’s pretty great. Wish I was half as close with my folks as you two are.”

“Right. Yeah, she is. Anyways, yeah, mom was always my best friend. So when you turned up--and it’s not like she said anything so I could be wrong--but when you turned up I think she was a little jealous? Not like tellin’ me not to hang out with you or anythin’, she’s been real glad to see me with friends again! But I was kinda worried she felt…” The blond trailed off, waving his free hand vaguely as he tried to come up with the right word.

“Pushed aside?” Ren supplied.

“Exactly! So even after I knew she’d warmed up to you after hearin’ about you so much, I was kinda nervous that she wouldn’t get along with you. So yeah, I’m glad you guys hit it off.”

“I’m glad, too.” He couldn’t help but wonder if Hana had told Ryuji what she’d told him, how she knew she liked Ren as soon as Ryuji started getting back on his feet again. There was no way she’d told him she was certain they were dating, although that probably would have made bringing it up easier for Ren, if no less awkward. It wasn’t as though he could just blurt out ‘hey are we dating, your mom was pretty convinced I’m your boyfriend and I’m really hoping she was right’. Well okay, he could if he could work up the nerve, but that was a pretty big ‘if.’

“Hey.” Ren could hear the frown in Ryuji’s voice and didn’t have time to react before his glasses were being tugged off his face and tucked into the collar of the other boy’s shirt. “You’re doin’ that thing again, where you’re overthinkin’ somethin’ and you disappear behind your damn glasses. What’s up?”

Ren blinked up at Ryuji a few times, barely registering that, huh, that was a habit of his wasn’t it, before the words “Why sunshine?” fell out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Ryuji fixed him with a puzzled look that shifted into one of flushed embarrassment as the question registered. “Oh, right, the nickname. Uh, my hair, mostly.”

“Makes sense. This is gonna sound dumb, but even though I know you bleach it, I was still surprised that your mom’s brunette.” Ren admitted. “I guess part of me was expecting her to be blonde, too.”

“I was actually aimin’ for her color the first time we bleached mine.” Ryuji admitted, then frowned like he hadn’t meant to say anything.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t… I wasn’t always so gung-ho about the whole ‘fine, you’re gonna call me a punk, I’ll give you an effin’ punk’ thing, y’know? That didn’t really click all the way into place ‘til I got Kidd.” The blond took a slightly shaky breath and exhaled deeply before shooting his friend a questioning glance. Ren nodded for him to continue. He wasn’t going to push and Ryuji knew that, but he was definitely curious. “Right. So, this was back when my leg was still healin’ last year. Had a rough day on it, came home feelin’ like ten kindsa shit, like bad enough I went straight to the bathroom and threw up I hurt so damn bad. And as I’m washin’ my face after, I catch how my face looks in the mirror and… and I look like just as much shit as I feel.” Ren could feel how sharply Ryuji spat the hollow, bitter laugh before he continued, “specifically, I looked just like my old man whenever he was hungover. Effin’ hated it, seein’ a face I had damn near blocked out ‘cause it’d been so long since I saw it just starin’ back at me from the mirror.” Ren wrapped his arm around his best friend’s shoulders the same way Ryuji’s was draped across his, then gave his best shot at a comforting squeeze.

Ryuji shot him a crooked smile and brightened as he kept talking. “Anyways, I told Mom what happened and asked if we could dye it the same color as hers. And she was totally down for it. So she went out, got a bleach kit, annnnnd when we used it, we totally overshot it. I lost track of time and turned my hair bright freakin’ yellow and patchy as hell, too,” he laughed. “And man, we laughed harder than we had in months at that. She spent the rest of the night callin’ me sunshine to mess with me, but it was nice seein’ her really smile again, y’know? So when she asked me the next day what kind of dye I wanted to cover it up with, I told her to grab more bleach and we’d try and even it out cause the blond grew on me. And honestly? The name did, too.” Ryuji shook Ren’s shoulder in warning. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

“My lips are sealed. It suits you, though. The name,” Ren affirmed and ruffled his hand through the shock of surprisingly soft, blond hair, “and the look.” Ryuji swatted his hand away with a laugh and let it settle back on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Long as I can get away with it, I’m keepin’ it.” Ryuji stretched and fixed Ren with a look. “Aight, now what were you actually thinkin’ about?”

“Uh, w-well.” Shit. Nothing else came to mind through the haze of mild panic that struck Ren. No excuses, no delays, no deflections. Oh, to hell with it, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Time to just rip the bandage off. “Your mom thinks we’re dating and you just forgot to tell her because you got caught up in being excited about it.”

“WHAT?!” Ryuji yelped and jumped back like he’d been burned. Not the best reaction, but Ren was already determined to just get it all out.

“Yeah. And as soon as she put it like that, I suddenly wasn’t sure that I just… hadn’t realized I’d accepted a confession at some point.” He explained, eyes fixed on the path in front of them. Ryuji laughed, high and nervous, bordering on slightly hysterical.

“Wh-when would I have even--”

“My place is next to you.” Ren’s heart was hammering in his chest hard enough that he was worried it might crack a rib or five.

“...oh. Right. Okay, yeah, that’s… that’s fair.” Ryuji had stopped walking and was frowning at the concrete as he scuffed the toe of his shoe at it. “So you been tryin’ to let me down easy or somethin? Don’t worry about it, dude, that wasn’t…” He trailed off and Ren finally turned to face him. The pang that squeezed his heart left him breathless when he saw the look of utter disappointment on Ryuji’s face. Ren was frozen, even as something in the back of his head screamed at him to fix it before Ryuji got the wrong idea. The blond straightened up with a laugh that sounded more like a scoff and ran a hand through his hair. “Man, that explains all the ‘you know you can tell me anything’ conversations she’s been tryin’ to have lately. I was worried she’d caught on about the Phantom Thief stuff, but she just… God, do I even wanna know what you told her?”

Ren practically jumped at the opening. “I told her if I’d known it was that kind of ‘hey come meet my mom’ that I would have brought better coffee.” He tried to look his best friend in the eye as he confessed, but just… couldn’t. Better to focus on getting the words out however he could. “I haven’t been trying to figure out how to let you down easy, kind of the opposite, actually.��� He did his best to ignore the quiet intake of breath that got, or the way Ryuji tensed in his peripheral vision. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask and bracing myself for when you shot me down. I… I really like you.”

“...forreal?” Ryuji’s voice was soft with disbelief.

“Yeah.” Ren’s voice cracked, nerves finally getting the better of him. But he could at least answer, even if he still couldn’t look the other boy in the eye.

“You… You like me? Like, like-like me?”

“Yes. Have for a while, now. I might... “ Ren cleared his throat and tried again. “I might be a little past just like at this point, honestly.”

A breathless, disbelieving chuckle followed by, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” A stiff nod.

“Why?” Ryuji’s tone had escalated from disbelief to full-on incredulity, sapping away all of Ren’s nerves in favor of sheer indignance when he whipped around to his best friend.

“How could I not?!” Ren nearly shouted, just self-aware enough to be glad they were alone. “You’re brave, so goddamn brave and so goddamn kind, protecting people--total strangers, sometimes--and expecting nothing back! You’re ridiculously good-looking and have an amazing smile and the best laugh I’ve ever heard, not to mention you’re just so damn compassionate? Quick to help people and even quicker to apologize when you mess up, even with just the little mistakes, and you always mean it and try to do better. And I’ve never in my life met someone as loyal as you, never had someone that I could rely on the way I rely on you!” Ren ranted, slightly light-headed from how quickly the words just poured out of him. “For fuck’s sake, you saved my life when I was just some guy off the street! The Phantom Thieves wouldn’t exist at all without you, and I… I would have spent the rest of the year, maybe even the rest of my life hiding if I hadn’t met you--”

“Hey.”

“Huh?” When had Ryuji stepped so close? How had Ren not noticed those warm, calloused hands cupping his jaw and tipping his head back up to look back at a face that wore an achingly-sweet expression of pure admiration, tempered only by the hint of apprehension at the corners of those warm, brown eyes Ren was such a sucker for?

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Izzat okay?”

“Please.” Ren whispered as his heart jumped up into his throat and Ryuji’s flushed face drew closer.

Both boys’ eyes fluttered shut at the first brush of lips, soft and deliberate. The second was just as gentle, just as careful, even as Ryuji’s fingers twitched against Ren’s jaw like it was taking all of his self control not to just dive in. Like he’d been thinking about how to do it right, planning it for a while, and that thought made Ren’s stomach flip. He slid one hand up the nape of Ryuji’s neck and buried his fingers in his hair at the third kiss, and wrapped his free arm around the blond’s waist to pull him closer partway through the fourth. From there, he lost count. It was the seventh or eighth kiss that found him pressed up against a nearby tree, and something like the thirteenth before nerves gave way to excitement and one of them deepened the kiss. He stopped counting entirely after the cautious sweep of Ryuji’s tongue over his lower lip temporarily shorted out his higher brain functions and pulled an embarrassingly needy sound from the back of his throat. Somewhere in the distantly coherent part of his brain, Ren made a mental note to start buying gum or mints because coffee-and-curry breath was… not great for kissing. It still took the two of them several minutes to break apart because kissing Ryuji, finally actually kissing him, was so much better than he’d imagined, even after months of daydreaming.

“So…” Ren sighed against the corner of Ryuji’s mouth, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, no room for confusion--”

“Oh my god Renren, seriously?!” The words didn’t have any bite, being equal parts incredulity and laughter as Ryuji shoved gently at Ren’s shoulder.

“I just wanna be sure!” Ren laughed right back.

“Are you effin’ serious, how can you not be-- fine.” Ryuji pulled him into a tight hug, peppering his face with kisses as he spoke. “Ren Amamiya,” kiss, “will,” kiss, “you be,” kiss, “my,” kiss, “boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Ren turned his head to catch another kiss that Ryuji had aimed at his temple, sliding his tongue into the blond’s mouth and kissing him hard enough that his best friend was scarlet when he pulled away. “I would love to.”

Then he kissed Ryuji again. And again. And again.

-----

Eventually, Ren and Ryuji had broken apart long enough to return his glasses and get him on a train back to the cafe. He had been grinning like a dork for the entire ride and practically floated back into Leblanc when he got back, earning a weird look from Morgana on the counter. Sojiro was too busy to notice, nearly done cleaning up with most of the dishes already put away and the next day’s curry prepped and simmering. Ren stepped in, grabbed the washcloth off the side of the sink and started wiping down the counter.

“I can finish cleaning, you go ahead and get home to Futaba.” He insisted.

“Well you’re in a good mood. I take it you impressed the mother-in-law?” Boss teased.

“Yep, I think I did!” Ren chirped from behind the counter, then tried not to laugh. Sojiro did a double take and his face flickered through several expressions at once--sly and teasing, smug triumph, confusion, recognition, and further confusion--as he realized his ribbing hadn’t landed like it had just that afternoon.

Eventually he let out a “hmph” before probably deciding not to ask. “Don’t forget to lock up, and put back everything you borrowed, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ren waved as the door jangled shut behind him and hummed cheerfully as he worked.

“I take it you two idiots finally figured it out?” Morgana asked and Ren only grinned. At that point his face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. “Blech, glad I missed out.” The cat stretched languidly before hopping down and trotting up the stairs. “Congratulations, though. Taste notwithstanding, I’m happy for you two.”

“So you don’t want the play-by-play?” Ren called after him.

“I will steal your bed and make you sleep in a booth!”

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 5 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: For the Love of My Husband

Summary: Bilbo is a thief and a conman who has tricked Thorin, Crown Prince of Erebor, to marry him as an escape from a tight spot. He thought their marriage was happily enough, but Thorin feels a disconnect from the hobbit he’s married. To appease his family and strengthen their bond, Thorin asks Bilbo to take the Trial of Souls with him. Problem is, Bilbo doesn’t want Thorin to know anything about him because they are most assuredly not Ones. And if Thorin learns the truth, Bilbo will find himself back in the streets or worse...

In a darkened pub deep under the kingdom of Erebor, a hobbit and a dwarf squared off. The waiting crowd was near silent as they waited to see what would happen next. The dark haired beast of a dwarf looked fairly confident as he shared a smirk with his two friends directly behind him.

“What’ll it be, Took? Fold or settle?”

The hobbit nonchalantly lifted his overturn cup to sneak a peek at the two dice lying inside. 

“How about I raise you instead?”

It was silent for a moment before the dwarf, Drulik, burst into laughter followed by his cronies.

“Raise? You have nothing left to bet with.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” Bilbo stated before pulling out a silver harp-shaped brooch with thin golden strings.

The dwarves surrounding the gamblers all began murmuring at once, some trying to lean in for a closer view.

“Is that…?” One of Drulik’s dwarves gaped.

“Yes.” Bilbo announced calmly. “The Courting Gift of our dearly departed queen, Mahal rest her soul.”

“How did you get that?” Drulik demanded.

Bilbo gave him a wane smile as he tucked back into his vest with a pat. “It doesn’t matter. The question you should be asking is how much do you think it’s worth?”

The gambling den awaited Drulik’s long drawn out answer. It almost made the hobbit want to roll his eyes at the melodrama. However, after years on the streets, he knew a good show could sometimes be the difference between success and failure. And Bilbo didn’t fail. Finally, Drulik pulled out another bag, spilling the golden coins onto the pile between them.

“Settle.” Drulik demanded before revealing the contents under his cup.

The crowd cheered and whistled much to Drulik’s ego at the combined total of eleven from his dice. Nine Rings was a gambling game loved by Durin’s Folk and Men alike with a very simple premise. Highest total won. So you bet and bluff to convince your opponent that you have as close to twelve beneath the cup as possible. However, there was one small exception. Nine always trumped any other number. Therefore, when Bilbo lifted his cup to reveal the five and four, there was a near frenzy of excitement. Drulik was rendered speechless as Bilbo lifted his pint in cheer before downing the ale all in one go. Producing a sack from his coat pocket, he raked all the golden coins towards him.

“Well lads, this has been more excitement than any hobbit can take, but I think I’m going to leave now while my fortunes are in my favor.”

“You cheated.” Drulik growled. “You had to have.”

“Check my dice if you wish.” Bilbo offered with a shrug.

The tavern owner, Nifror, who ran as honorable a den as one could for thieves and ruffians was at their table in a flash. Bilbo had heard a tale that the last dwarf who cheated at the game got their loaded dice pinned, one to each hand, with a knife made by Nifror’s wife. He threw the dice a few times and each time they landed with a different number. He shrugged.

“The hobbit’s clean.”

“But that’s impossible.” One of Drulik’s own gaped.

“Yeah, we loaded them ourselves!” The other snarled.

There was a pause and then Old Nifror was on them in a flash. Some moved to help the old barkeep out. The rest roared and placed bets on the winner. Meanwhile, Bilbo used this as the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He dropped the loaded dice he had smuggled into his pocket on the ground with a snort. Like he would be that stupid. Now most would have worried walking around with that much gold around the dregs of Erebor’s underworld. Fortunately, Bilbo was a professional at remaining quiet and unseen. A talent he had been forced to pick up early in his life. Which is why he nearly screamed when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Make a good haul?” The dwarf smirked.

Bilbo turned around with a glare. “You know you don’t have to be so smug every time you manage to catch me off guard.”

Nori, Bilbo’s oldest and dearest friend, just raised an eyebrow as he tried and failed to hide the mischievous superiority oozing from his every pore.

“Just like to remind you, you’re not the best just yet.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he continued on his way knowing the dwarf was following.

“We both know I was headed to your place eventually so is there a reason you’re bugging me now?”

“Can I not worry over the sake of my friend?” Nori gasped overdramatically.

Bilbo snorted but made no arguments or agreements.

“Well, if I were coming to find you, it might have something to do with the fact that your husband finished up his duties early today to surprise you.”

The coin he was holding nearly slipped from his suddenly numb fingers.

“Valar above!” Bilbo swore. “That dwarf. He’s positively incorrigible!”

“He’s in love.” Nori pointed out.

Bilbo scoffed. “Love. Well shit, looks like you’re going to have to take this to our hiding place for me.”

Bilbo shoved the bag of gold into the dwarf’s chest before power walking towards the secret tunnels. Nori kept stride with him, clearly not done delivering bad news.

“Are you anywhere close to the right amount?”

“I’ve nearly two-thirds at this point.”

“Bilbo, you only have a week left.”

“I’m well aware, Nori! Maybe it's enough to...buy me more time.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t the whole point of you marrying some rich noble supposed to give you easy access to the treasury?”

“It was, but there was one teeny detail we didn’t take into account.”

“What’s that?”

Bilbo paused, his face falling into a grimace. “In-laws.”

***

One of the first things Bilbo and Nori did upon their rushed and unplanned move to Erebor from Ered Luin was scope out the best places for a quick getaway. They just so happened to make kind with a chatty miner named Bofur who, while deep in his cup, told them that the royal wing originally was meant to be on the other side of the mountain. When the architects realized the disadvantage of having the royal family so far from the guards’ posts and war meeting rooms, rather than just move the furniture back down only to go back up on the correct side, they cut unmapped tunnels around the outside of the mountain. It also had the added advantage of getting their monarchy out quicker in the case of a coup if the knowledge hadn’t been lost through time. It was perfect for the thieves’ needs. In almost no time at all, Nori and Bilbo had found the tunnels and utilized them fully. 

Something the hobbit was thankful for now as he flew down the tunnel to get back to his room. He welcomed the blast of mountain wind to rapidly cool the sweat on his face before ducking back into the opposite entrance. There was a small alcove where Bilbo’s fancier clothes lay and he all but threw himself out of his worn threads for the finer silks and cotton. The last thing he did was pocket the brooch before sprinting back down the tunnel braiding and beading his hair on the run. Once he was back in the royals’ wing, he ducked his head out to make sure the coast was clear, and then silently made his way to his suite. After closing the door behind him, Bilbo relaxed against it, heaving a sigh of relief.

“And just where have you been, Husband of Mine?”

Bilbo prided himself on the fact that he did not squeak even if he did jump nearly two feet in the air. Thorin, Prince of Erebor, was lounging in the armchair by the fireplace looking rather pleased with himself. Bilbo attempted to calm his racing heart as he stepped forward, plastering what he hoped to be a loving grin on his face.

“Just a walk on the cliffs with Nori. Surely, you would not deny this hobbit the feel of fresh air and sunshine?”

Thorin stood at that point, meeting him about halfway. His thumb gently caressed Bilbo’s cheek.

“If I had it my way, I would deny you nothing, ukradê (my greatest heart).”

Bilbo hummed in practiced delight as he met his husband’s lips with his own. The hobbit was at least content with the knowledge that as far as dwarves went, Thorin was stunningly handsome. Not a sentiment necessarily shared with others of his race. Which worked out just fine for Bilbo as it left a prince of all things, uncommitted and available.

“By the way, look what I found this morning.” Bilbo stepped back with a teasing smile as he produced the brooch from his pocket.

“My mother’s brooch!” Thorin gaped as he took it reverently. “Where…?”

“It was under my bed. You must have dropped it when you paid me a surprise visit last night.”

Thorin smirked as he latched onto Bilbo’s hips. “I remember the night well.”

Oh, and he was a really, really good bed partner. No, Bilbo was well aware he could have it much worse. It was just the dwarf’s nauseating romanticism that nearly caused him to roll his eyes more than once. Thorin gave him a long lingering kiss before he bent forward to press his forehead against Bilbo’s own. Their hands found their way into each other’s naturally interlocking.

“I promise, it won’t always be like this.” Thorin murmured when he finally pulled away, his blue eyes shining brightly.

Like this. The dwarf was so dramatic. It constantly made Bilbo feel like some player performing for the court. Heaving a sigh as he looked down between their conjoined hands. 

“We’ve been married for eight months, and two of those have been spent here in Erebor. If your family was going to accept me, they would have done so by now.”

Thorin released his hands so he could lift Bilbo’s chin to look at him.

“Don’t lose faith yet, amrâlimê (my love). I have a plan.”

It was a good thing Bilbo was a talented actor. He laughed, causing Thorin to smile.

“You have a plan? That sounds dangerous.”

“Tease all you want, but I have all the confidence in this plan.”

“Well, out with it. What have you come up with?”

Thorin shook his head teasingly. “You’ll have to wait. I want it to be a surprise.”

Bilbo linked his arms around the dwarf’s neck for leverage as he started showering him with kisses at his jaw, the corner of his mouth, and his throat.

“And I couldn’t persuade you to tell me any sooner?”

“You are cruel, thundanûd (tiny embrace).” Thorin moaned, his hands resting on Bilbo’s arms.

“It’s only cruel if you don’t accept the invitation.” Bilbo teased back as he pulled at the prince’s tunic to allow him access to his collarbone.

Thorin shuddered once with want before finding the strength to pull away. He grasped Bilbo’s hands again as he kissed him deeply as an apology.

“Later. There will be time later. But now...we are having dinner with my family.”

Bilbo’s building fire of lust was immediately doused, a small frown settled on his forehead that Thorin attempted to kiss away. Lovely, the in-laws.

It certainly wasn’t that Bilbo wanted them to like him. He could honestly care less. It was just their dislike of him that made it really difficult for him to do...well, much of anything. Thrain, still mourning the loss of his dead wife, remained suspicious and hardened against Bilbo for the sheer fact that he was a hobbit. Their marriage had yet to be announced to the Council or even the mountain in general. Keeping Bilbo out of the public eye was Thrain’s number one priority which was certainly no hardship. It was Frerin and Dis he had the biggest problems with. Thorin’s brother and sister, ever loyal to him, seemed to think Bilbo wasn’t good enough for the dwarf, and constantly had Balin, the royal advisor, keeping tabs on him. Bilbo was reluctant to admit the dwarf’s keen eyes and sharp wit, but it had taken quite a few of Bilbo’s best moves to lose his tails before entering the secret tunnels.

Therefore, coming together in the Royal Dining Room for “family dinners” was a...stilted affair. There were only two redeeming features to those evenings. One, it was always the best food Bilbo had ever eaten in his life. And two, Thorin’s nephews, Fili and Kili, were not the least bit bothered by him and had some story worth telling that took the edge of him for a little bit at least.

“And then the axe sailed through the air and straight into the boar’s head. So technically, technically we aren’t responsible for the mess in the trophy room.” Kili finished.

“No.” Vili, their father snorted. “Just responsible for startling the poor guard that set off the chain of events.”

“Well how were we supposed to know he was right there?” Fili defended.

Bilbo snorted in spite of himself. “Watch the shadows.”

He immediately tensed after he said it as he waited for the barrage of insults to be hurtled his way.

“Spoken like a true thief.” Dis sneered.

Yep, right on cue.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t corrupt my sons.” She continued.

“Namad…” Thorin warned softly.

Thrain’s hand met the tabletop in a harsh bang. “What have I said about speaking our language in front of the Halfling?!”

Bilbo sighed and turned his attention to his soup as the line of Durin flexed their tempers. Thorin rising to his defense, Dis and Thrain attempting to argue their points louder, Frerin leaving snide quips here and there, and Vili trying and failing to keep the peace. The joy of family dinners.

“Actually, while we’re on this subject, I have something to say.” Thorin demanded, his voice low and regal. “I will be gone the remainder of the week.”

Everyone, including Bilbo, froze and stared up at Thorin in relative confusion and outrage. The prince’s eyes were boring holes straight into his father whose scowl would be enough to frighten wargs off at this point.

“And just where will you be?” The king finally spat.

Thorin reached down for Bilbo’s hand making the hobbit supremely discomforted. Thorin’s eyes were soft and pleading though as they met his.

“We will be taking the Trial of Souls.”

“We’ll be doing what now?” Bilbo questioned.

“Thorin…” Dis murmured at a surprisingly subdued volume, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Finally! A sensible idea!” Frerin declared. 

All eyes rested on the brunette as he raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you think? I mean, to put it bluntly, everyone at this table has been trying to convince Thorin out of this marriage in some way. When they don’t emerge from the tunnels together, that would be a pretty good indicator of the truth.”

“We haven’t. We like Bilbo.” Kili reminded softly.

Bilbo shot the troublemakers a quick smile of thanks. They were idiots, but they were sweet. Meanwhile, Thrain was rubbing his beard in thought before nodding once.

“Yes, this will do well. In fact, if you make it through all five chambers, I’ll hold a feast in honor and publically accept your union.”

Thorin nodded, still looking rather cross with his father. “As I’d hoped.”

Bilbo found he couldn’t take it anymore. “Now, wait! Wait just a minute! What is this...Trial of Souls?”

Thorin stared at his father for permission, and the king granted it almost the picture of satisfaction. Being a gambler, it made Bilbo largely nervous as Thorin turned back towards him.

“It’s a series of tests to prove two dwarves...or in our case, a dwarf and a hobbit, are Ones.”

Bilbo’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times, but no words were able to come out.

“Problem, Halfling?” Dis questioned with mock innocence.

“Thorin, a moment if you please.” Bilbo was finally able to say as he pulled his stone-headed husband out into the hall.

“Are you serious?!” He finally rounded on him.

“What?” Thorin questioned.

“Thorin, I…” Bilbo fought for the right words without making this worse. “I don’t understand. What exactly do we have to prove? We’re married. Shouldn’t that be enough?!”

Thorin sighed. “It should. You are correct, ibinê (my gem). But don’t you see? It’s perfect! My family will be satisfied by our success at the Trials, and it’ll be irrefutable evidence to the rest of the mountain if any rose to challenge us. And politics aside, I want this for us.”

“Us?” Bilbo repeated too numb to be completely in control of his mouth.

“Yes!” Thorin nodded eagerly. “Couples that pass the Trials of Souls find they become closer than ever. Our...relationship hasn’t been for very long, and I respect that your past is painful to you, but I want to know you azyungel (love of loves). I want to know everything there is to know about my husband, and share myself in return. What do you say?”

Now being a hardened thief, the hobbit knew a thing or two about how to get out of a seemingly hopeless situation. However, as his mind swirled and swirled around the damnable logic of Thorin’s decision, he found himself becoming dizzy and nauseated. That was it then. Bilbo was doomed. He had just enough time to get out a soft ‘nope’ before he fell over in a dead faint.

[pappydaddy]

Deal? (j.m.)

A/N: I recently added Outer Banks to the list of shows I write for because I am actually in love with the show. So, if you want to request for Outer Banks, send me a request but please look at the rules before doing so! 

Anyway, I am also writing a OB imagine because I want to see if people are actually seeing my posts or not. In the past, my little Outer Banks posts about JJ have gotten lots of interaction. Therefore, I am writing a JJ fic. 

Paring: JJ Maybank x Fem!reader

Show: Outer Banks

Warnings: Jealously, protectiveness, some creepy dude, some punches but nothing horrible. Some blood. 

This takes place in an alternate universe where John B Sarah don’t capsize or even get on the boat in general. Just for the sake of this imagine.

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation 

- not my gif -

  Boneyard parties were fun, there was no doubt about that fact, but sometimes an extravagant Kook party thrown by some rich snob wanting to rebel against their perfect little shoe box life was just as fun. The Pogues especially liked them since their presence at the party always ticked the Kooks off, but they couldn’t do anything about it unless they wanted the cops to bust their party full of minors drinking and doing drugs. Since the Pogues befriending Sarah Cameron, they had an excuse to make more appearances at Kook parties. Of course, JJ couldn’t pass up an opportunity to rile up some Kooks. Especially not when he’s dating the most attractive girl on the island: Y/n L/n. Rich enough to live comfortably, but not rich enough to be in Figure Eight. 

  “Come on, Jay! It’s a pool party,” Y/n whined to her boyfriend, her hands gripping his large bicep as she shook his arm lightly. “Put the swim trunks I gave you on!” She pleaded with him. Her blonde and stubborn boyfriend simply sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at his phone as she shook his arm more violently. Many people were surprised when JJ had entered the serious, long-term relationship with the youngest (and only daughter) of the L/n family for many reasons. The main one being that he settled down in the first place. JJ Maybank didn’t seem like the type for commitment, but with their second year anniversary fast approaching - they were left with their heads spinning. The other reason was the fact that Y/n had two older and very protective brothers. Everybody was almost positive that JJ wouldn’t even get past her brothers, either they would have crushed him to a pulp or he would have thought it to be too much work for a girl. 

  “But I don’t want to get in an overcrowded pool with a bunch of Kooks.” JJ grunted, trying to type a text to John B to see if the group was almost to Y/n’s house to pick them up. Though JJ was the designated driver for the party (he drew the short straw), he still needed the van in order to cart all The Pogues home at the end of the night. Y/n groaned, plunking herself down on the bed beside him, her hands still gripping his arm. 

  “You don’t have to get in the pool! I don’t want to get in the pool either, but I am still wearing a bathing suit!” JJ looked up from his phone and gave his pouting girlfriend a look. That was the thing about their relationship, it even surprised JJ. It downright scared him when he started to have feelings for Y/n. At first, he didn’t know what had happen to make him want a relationship, but then he realized that there was just something about her. Something that made him want to spend every waking second with her, want to protect her. 

  “Why does it matter if I wear the swim trunks you bought me or not?” He asked, locking his phone and setting it on the bed beside him. She shrugged, one hand sliding down to pick play with his fingers, her eyes locked on them. They had been friends for a good year before they started dating, their feelings having come to light when the great treasure hunt ensued. That meant they could read each other decently well. Having gone through that together while their relationship was blooming into a romantic one made them more perceptive to each other. As he sat there, watching her play with his fingers, he could tell that she was bashful about the reason. 

  “Because I think you’d look really hot in them.” She mumbled, her cheeks heating up. She tucked her chin closer to her chest, wanting to make sure JJ didn’t see her red cheeks, but even without seeing her face, he knew she had the adorable redness flooding her cheeks and nose. He didn’t even try to fight the smile as he watched her try to avoid his gaze while playing it cool. 

  “Alright, if that’s what you really want, I’ll wear the trunks.” He agreed. He knew that he would have ended up putting them on before they left, not matter how much he ‘fought’ against it. She snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes wide and happy. 

  “Yay,” She celebrated with a little bounce. “Now, can I bother you for one teeny tiny favour?” She asked sweetly, taking her hand from his to pinch her pointer finger and thumb together so that they were just barely touching. JJ hummed, reaching his hand up to grab her hand back, entangling their fingers together. 

  “Any thing for you, Pretty Girl.” He nodded, rubbing his thumb across her soft skin gently. The action felt nice on her hand but also sent tingles shooting up her arm, giving her a fuzzy feeling. 

  “I need advice on my bathing suit, I put it on earlier, but now I don’t know about it,” She paused, standing up, trying to free her hand reluctantly. JJ’s hand held firm, not wanting to let her hand go until it was completely necessary. Giving up, she settled with standing between his legs as he stayed sitting. “Is it too much?” She asked nervously, popping the buttons on her high-waisted jean shorts before letting them slide down her legs. Next came the shirt, leaving her in her rather racy bathing suit. 

  “Too much of what?” JJ asked, confused since there wasn’t too much of anything. It was a bathing suit. A normal bathing suit like all of her others. 

  “Too skimpy,” She clarified, turning her head to glance at the full body mirror by the foot of her bed. “This is by far the most scandalous bathing suit I own, but Kie and Sarah convinced me to buy it last week and I don’t want to not wear it, ya know?” She rambled, inspecting it. The stringy bikini was gorgeous and totally for relaxing poolside, not for swimming. The colour of it complemented her skin, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was showing too much. 

  “Why would you even think that? You look gorgeous in it,” JJ’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t get where you think it’s too ‘skimpy’? I mean, it covers everything,” He questioned, his eyes scanning over his girlfriend. She looked absolutely stunning. He grabbed her other hand as it picked at the strings tying her top up. She looked down at him, her eyes meeting his captivating blue eyes. “You look amazing in it. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

  “No, I actually really like it. I feel amazing in it,” She answered quickly. “But I don’t want guys staring at me and coming up to me all night. I just want to go and have fun with you and the others, not fend guys off with a stick.” She grunted, bending her knees to sit on one of JJ’s legs, her knees poking into the other one. He let go of her hands, wrapping his arms around her waist to make sure she didn’t fall off. 

  “I get that, but you don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll be right by your side the entire night,” He reassured. “And if I’m not right by you, I won’t be anymore than ten feet away. If some asshole comes up to you, I’ll take care of him. Anything as long as you get to wear what you want to the party, deal?” His eyebrows bounced as he calmed her down. 

  “Deal, but I get to wear your shirt.” She bargained, her hands gripping his open button up. It was a nice black one, though it was ratty, it was still her favourite button up of his. He glanced down at it. She was always taking it, leaving him to snatch it back by stuffing it in his overnight bag when he left. He had just gotten it back two weeks ago when he had to wash it. He knew that her attempts of stealing it were coming, but he would have thought she’d be a little bit more subtle about it. 

  “Whatever you want, Princess.” He pressed a kiss to her lips before sliding her off his lap to stand up, grabbing the swim trunks from the bed. 

 _____________________________________________________________________

  The party certainly was in full swing. Coke was on the tables, people handing off wads of cash towards the smug guy who brought it. John B and Sarah were already sloshed and they had only been there for an hour and a half. Kie had only one beer, but was currently sharing a blunt with John B and Sarah while Pope nursed his second beer. Y/n and JJ were standing off to the side, Y/n’s back pressed against the living room wall, JJ’s hand pressed into the wall by her head. He sipped at his water bottle while she finally had her first beer of the night. She didn’t like getting intoxicated, especially not when JJ was sober. She wanted to talk to her boyfriend, not make a complete fool out of herself. 

  “Can you believe that Pope is actually drinking more than one beer tonight? I think I even saw him try a hit of the blunt.” Y/n asked JJ, proud of her uptight friend for finally letting loose. Dating Kie has been such a good thing for him, he’s gotten so much more relaxed. JJ glanced over his shoulder, still hovering over his girlfriend. 

  “’Atta boy, Pope,” He hollered over the thumping music, tossing his empty water bottle to the floor and rising his now free fist in the air to fist pump. Pope sending him a ‘Whoop’ and a fist pump back from where he sat on the fancy leather couch. “Princess, I need to go get another water bottle. You want to come with me or sit with the others?” He asked, holding her hand gently while his other one slid off the wall. 

  “You go, I’ll sit with the inebriated and keep them company.” She smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The two of them glanced over at their friend group as they laughed loudly about something. Their intoxicated minds finding the smallest things funny. 

  “If you’re sure,” JJ looked back at Y/n wanting to make sure she was completely okay with him grabbing another drink. She nodded, a wide smile on her face at his protectiveness. “Okay, I’ll be there in like five seconds, ten tops. Love you.” He rushed, bouncing out of her sight in an effort to rush back to her. She laughed, shaking her head before taking a sip of her beer. Making her way towards the group falling all over each other with laughter, she suddenly felt the weight of eyes burning into her back. 

  Glancing behind her, she didn’t see anyone staring at her. Shrugging it off, she continued her short walk, sitting down next to John B who didn’t even notice her presence yet. “Hey, Y/n, where’s JJ?” Pope asked, noticing only one half of the duo joining them. John B looked beside him, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his best friend’s girlfriend. 

  “Getting another water bottle, he’ll be here in a sec.” She told him, downing the rest of her beer, not wanting to set it down anywhere. John B slung his arm around Y/n’s shoulders, using the hand holding his own solo cup to point at her. 

  “She sleeps with my best friend, but not only does she do that, but she also makes him happy,” John B slurred, nearly poking Y/n in the face by accident. “Like, really happy - happier than I’ve ever seen him,” John B took his arm off Y/n creating big gestures with his hands as he talked. Dodging his flailing arms, Y/n smiled at his drunken sweetness. “I think that JJ might marry her someday, then everyone will know that they have sex!” John B carried on, making Y/n’s cheeks flare up. 

  “Hey, John B, Imma go get you a water, actually-” Pope paused, glancing at the group. Through he was slightly tipsy, he still knew that he needed to be more responsible for the ones who were way passed tipsy. “I’m gonna get you all a water, want one, Y/n?” He asked, knowing that she was probably in much better shape than him, but he also knew that she shouldn’t be venturing off into the crowd alone, let alone her being comfortable to do so. 

  “Sure! Thanks Pope!” She smiled, Pope returning the gesture before heading off the same direction JJ went off in. John B started to talk loudly to Sarah, the two in their conversation while Kie rattled off about Microplastics in the ocean, nobody really listening to her. A hand landing on her shoulder was odd, since JJ never walked up behind her at a party and touched her from behind, always wanting her to know that it was him and not some creep. That’s why her blood seemed to still in her body at the hand. 

  “Looks like you could use some better company.” Someone spoke, sliding into the spot next to her, his arm resting around her shoulders much like John B’s had seconds before. She glanced at him, everything about him screaming Touron, especially since he thought hitting on her would get him anywhere. Thought their relationship surprised every local, that still meant that they all knew about it. 

  “No, I’m really okay. These are my friends, also, by boyfriend and my other friend will be back in a couple of seconds, but if you’re looking for someone to talk to, there is a lot of Lacrosse players over there playing Beer Pong.” She pointed towards the herd of boys playing Beer Pong on the grand mahogany dinning table. The Touron glanced over there, his slicked back hair catching the light with the amount of gel he had in it. He pulled a face, shrugging and tightening his arm around her shoulders. 

  “I don’t know, I think you’d be better company,” He denied, obviously not taking the hint. Instead, he just stomped on the hint and punted it into the world’s farthest dumpster. “Besides, I don’t really think you have a boyfriend, you’re probably just telling me that so I leave you alone.” 

  “I can assure you, I am telling the whole truth when I tell you my boyfriend is going to be right back. And I do want you to leave me alone, that’s why I said ‘no’ earlier.” She remarked, her voice biting. He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he dramatically looked around. 

  “I certainly don’t see anyone coming ‘right back’,” He mocked, air-quoting her words. She huffed, rolling her eyes. “So I really don’t think you were telling me the truth about you boyfriend, Sweetheart-” 

  “Well, prepare to be proven wrong,” A new voice joined the conversation, the two of them looking to the side where there was a space at the corner of the two couches. There stood JJ, he dumped the two water bottles he held into Pope’s hands. Pope stood slightly behind JJ, looking rather nervous about what was going to happen as he dropped the bottles to the couch kie was laid out on. “Meet the boyfriend who’s now back and wanting you to leave before you leave with a limp.” He threatened the posh boy. 

  “So what? She wasn’t lying about the boyfriend, but can she really except not to be hit on when wearing that kind of a bikini,” He asked, speaking as if he was the victim being harassed. JJ’s knuckles cracked as he clenched them into a fist, his nostrils flaring, his eyes lighting up with anger. Even in their drunken and high daze, John B, Kie, and Sarah looked up with nervous eyes, watching the events unfolding. “And how can you be mad when you’re the one who left her alone after you let her leave the house wearing it?” He asked, Pope cringed, know what that comment ignited in JJ. Y/n watched, her mouth hanging open when he implied that she was JJ’s property. 

  “I see you’ve made your choice,” JJ spoke with a voice so calm that it scared the group. They had never heard his voice so calm in a situation like this. It was normally aggressive and raspy, strained from him trying to suppress his anger. It was as if he didn’t have anger issues and he was going to deal with this rationally. Just as the group was questioned what the blonde’s next moves were going to be, he lunged forward, gripping the collar of the guys polo, his fist connecting to his nose with a loud crack. “Did you really expect me not to break your nose being that much of a dick? You can’t be mad that your buddies aren’t here to protect you if they left you alone!” JJ’s normal aggressive voice returned, his fist painted with the guy’s blood as he sent blow after blow to the guy’s face. 

  “JJ! JJ! He’s had enough! This isn’t worth getting arrested again! JJ,” Y/n pleaded with her angry boyfriend, seeing him slamming the preppy boy against the wall, scarlet blood dropping to the dark hardwood floors of the house. “JJ,” She tried again, her voice scratchy from yelling so loud. “Pope! Help me grab his arm!” She called, a crowd forming to watch the fight. She knew John B was still too drunk to be able to help. Pope rushed towards JJ, the pair grabbing his arm when he went to power up another punch. 

  “Come on, man! We gotta go!” Pope called, but JJ stomped his foot into the Prep’s foot, a strangled scream leaving the Prep’s mouth as the tiny bones in his foot cracked. 

  “JJ! Stop!” Y/n yelled, tugging on the arm she clutched to her. JJ, having just sent a harsh kick to the shin of the opposite leg that he had just stepped on, glanced at her. Her eyes pleaded with him to stop as she tugged on his arm once again. He couldn’t help but compare her to earlier that night. Her arms were wrapped around his like they were right them, she shook it, just like she was doing right then, but her eyes were different. Earlier, they were light and big, resembling a puppy dog. Now, her eyes were wide and nervous, scared that he’d get in trouble over her - knowing that the Prep was no match for him. 

  “Let’s get out of here,” JJ nodded. his heart was still thumping with pure fury, but he knew he needed to walk away for her. She nodded, letting go of his arm, thinking he was completely done. “You get the others, I’ll be right there-” He didn’t even wait a second before he sent his knee into the Prep’s groin, hitting him square on. A loud ‘humph’ left the guy as he tried to double over, but JJ held him up by his polo collar. “You touch my girl, I break you. You try to press charges, I finish the job without her here to stop me, deal?” He hissed in a low voice. 

  “JJ! Stop and come,” Y/n ordered, realizing what her boyfriend was still fighting. JJ’s eyes hardened at the lack of response from the scared Prep, making him nod frantically. Once JJ’s hands left his collar, the boy crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. “Let’s go, someone probably called the cops - the drug dealers took off.” She alerted JJ, Pope already trying to get the other three to follow him towards the van. Y/n grabbed JJ’s hand, pulling him through the watchful crowd. 

  The run to the van was all Pope, Y/n, and JJ trying to get the other three to run, basically pulling them along behind them. Once they were in the van though, that was another story. Tires squealing as JJ pulled off, speeding down the road, Y/n sitting in the passenger seat as she gripped on for dear life, and the other four being tossed around. “I’m sorry for leaving you for so long, someone decided to take an ice bath in the cooler, it took three of us to pull him out because his ass got stuck.” JJ spoke up, his voice soft. The van was quiet as eyelids became heavy in the back. Y/n looked over at him, his speed slowing once they got into Pogue territory. 

  “It’s okay, JJ. You protected me, though you went a little over and beyond, but none-the-less, you still protected me. Just like you promised,” Her voice was just as soft, the couple sharing a sweet moment. Cruising down the street, JJ couldn’t help but look over at her. “But, next time, please take yourself into account, Jay. It’s really not worth getting arrested again.” She pleaded. 

  “What are you talking about? Your safety is totally worth getting arrested for. I’d rather get arrested protecting you than you getting hurt. I would lose my mind if you got hurt.” He argued. She perked an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t see it since he turned his head to glance in front of them before looking back at her. 

  “And what happened back there wasn’t you losing your mind,” She asked. He shook his head, a light smile on his face as the air became lighter. “No matter that, how about we make a deal? You learn when to walk away and, to help you learn, every time you walk away from a fight - you get a little treat. How does that sound? We got a deal?” She proposed with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. JJ chuckled, taking one hand off the wheel to attach to her thigh, squeezing it affectionately. 

  “We got a deal.” He agreed, his blue eyes pouring all his love and affection into hers. It was like they were the only ones in the van. JJ’s heart swelled with love so much that it throbbed painfully, feeling like it was ready to burst with all the love being confined within it. Their moment was quickly interrupted by Pope sticking his head between the seats, breaking their eye contact. 

  “Yeah, as cute and sickening this moment between you two is, I would still like to get to John B’s in one piece. So, eyes on the road, Maybank!” He exclaimed, pointing to the empty road. JJ huffed, setting his eyes on the dark road ahead, leaving his hand on Y/n’s thigh. 

  “Fine, but Y/n and I call the spare room!” JJ announced to Pope who settled in the back once again. Pope groaned, kicking himself that he hadn’t called dibs on it sooner. 

  “You two always get the spare! Kie and I get it next time.” Pope bargained, his tone low. 

  “Deal.” JJ smirked, shooting Y/n a wink, flashing his crossed fingers while still keeping them from Pope’s sight. 

  “I saw that, Maybank!”               

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Wip Wednesday

Untitled fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. We are now months into this... tentative thing that is beyond friendship, beyond flirtatious, they still don't know much about each other on paper... but this feels a lot like dating. And then one day, Hotch abruptly stops answering his phone.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

(Set in season 6, unbeta'd, still the first draft, text/email templates are temporary)

((Notes: Spencer's POV this time, he is 29 and working at CalTech, Hotch still doesn't know how old he is though he does know that he's at least younger than 45 now. Hotch has been MIA now for about 18 hours.))

.

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch is working. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be apart of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking. 

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

.

[]You're going to get me in trouble.

[][]Did I make you smile?

[]I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[][]Then why are you checking your phone?

[]You know why.

.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague. 

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules. 

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is.

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, and Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath. 

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes realize he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call. 

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it. 

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

.

Please let me know of his well-being.

.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s. 

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

.

--

.

His morning routine progresses as usual, to start. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well. 

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling. 

He becomes even more distracted when his email pings, a response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen, right in the middle of his department announcements. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls. 

.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

.

Surgery.

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is hurt, he’s in surgery, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt. 

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a faction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted. 

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

.

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

.

The reply is almost immediate.

.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time. 

.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. But then his mind sticks on something from the email. 

Boy Wonder.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch?

.

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

.

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

.

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or lables as official. 

It’s easy to see, now why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean. 

Except, every victim has elevated potassium rates.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr. Reid?” 

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?” 

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “... Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.”

.

tbc...