#arrives five years late with starbucks

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

!!!! some VERY intriguing titles in your wip folder!!!! okay okay okay if I have to choose one let's go wiiiiith Shen Yuan Arrives Five Years Late With Starbucks (or if someone's already chosen that then pre-Youre Somebody Else transmigrator reveal)

working summary: Shen Yuan is determined to institute a fix-it situation on the shit show that was Proud Immortal Demon Way. He's not going to let that hack author drag him down with the plot and all character integrity!

It would maybe be easier if he'd been dropped in a little earlier. But that's no reason not to try.

Or,

Shen Yuan gets placed into Proud Immortal Demon Way in his own body once the plot is already well underway. Liu Qingge is dead, Shen Qingqiu is sealed in the water prison, that scum traitor Shang Qinghua has yet to be exposed for the scum he is, and Luo Binghe is four wives deep and already being corrupted by the Xin Mo sword.

And all of this is fine. It's not too late for Shen Yuan to make a difference, he just has to be smart about it.

Shen Yuan woke up. This was notable for a number of reasons, chief among them being that he was pretty sure he had never gone to sleep— but, rather, that he had died. Died from eating expired yogurt, which, as a way to go, just didn’t bear thinking about. But there he was. Awake. He was laid out on his back on what felt like bare stone. He blinked his eyes open, for some reason feeling sleepy and weighed down all over. Panic emerged at the edges of his senses, but it didn’t permeate the strange, sleepy calm turning his thoughts into syrup. Above him looked like the roof of a cave of some kind, and all around him was the sound of rushing water. Most of his view was obscured by a large, semi-transparent blue screen hovering over him. Blue screen in the literal and non-literal sense, as in, an enormous error message. transmigration into intended host: failed Shen Yuan blinked up at it. Transmigration, huh? recalibrating… error: file corrupted reconfiguring target body… The screen jerked, and for a moment was replaced by a cheery blue-green graphic with pops of digital confetti raining over it. Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said— [loading icon] [loading icon] error: unable to reach source drive system corrupted: unable to reconfigure shutdown in 3… 2… 1… And then the screen blinked out of existence, the only sign that it had ever been there the motes that its sudden absence left in Shen Yuan’s vision.

[nicki0kaye]

Directly inspired by @gettiregretti’s A+ Lira San fashion (outfit, cute couple pic)

I’ve drawn a lot of ‘future’ Kallus stuff but none of them have hit the mark like this. Nonbinary, transfem Kallus has been an important, like. ‘Happy Thought’ for me the last year, and it means a lot to finally get them down in a way that felt ‘right’. Where I finally got the curves down and they feel sexy without feeling too hyper sexualized, where they’re visibly well fed and fit. 

I’m skipping posting this to patreon bc I don’t want to give in to the part of me that’s embarrassed of a pic that genuinely makes me so happy. Fuck that. I’m proud of this, this is a reflection of me and my shit, and I want other ppl to see it.

the tattoos are from their life before the Empire, all but the lasat stripes which are done in sort of burnt umber. The bangle on their right wrist is a Lifemate band, carved by Zeb out of wood taken from one of the trees on their homestead, wrap made from soft leather acquired on hunts they’ve taken together. They’ve gotten their nails treated so they’re a little stronger than the normal human, because Gender and also FOMO from living on a world where everyone else has claws.

[storiedhistories]

@carpemusa asked: Puck thinks Percy is nifty but he doesn't really know how to say hello… So he's going to put a rock in his shoe every day. Each day the pebble gets progressively larger until the man gets suspicious enough to call out whoever is messing with him

All in all, this was one of his more harmless ways of breaking the ice

For a while, he'd been able to (mostly) ignore the feeling of something in his shoe. Percy doesn't exactly have the time to keep stopping everyone just so he can deal with….whatever's happening.

But eventually, it's gotten to be too much, and he knows that someone has to be doing this. He might have suspected Grog or Scanlan, but considering they hadn't been sneaking glances his way when they thought he wouldn't notice, giggling to themselves, he didn't think it was either of them.

Which meant that the next suspect was Vax, but he tended to be too lost in his own thoughts for pranks these days. And while it could be Vex or Keyleth or Pike, he didn't think it was. No, this time, it was some outside force. And that meant someone was screwing with him with magic.

"All right, you can come out now," he called out when he was on his own. "Presumably you're trying to get my attention, and you have certainly succeeded."

[five-miles-over]

The Age of Loki - Part One

(credit to @tomhiddlestunned for this image)

Pairing: Professor Hiddleston x Reader, Loki x Reader (eventually)

Summary: For his second year teaching at Oxford's English department, Professor Hiddleston hires you to be his first-ever teaching assistant. One night while working late, he shows you the newest addition to his poetry class's syllabus: the Lokasenna, a poem centered on the Norse god of mischief...and accidentally summons the trickster god himself.

Disclaimer: this fic is not meant to offend any real-life person, it's just a relatively-harmless AU meant to explore a hypothetical what-if scenario.

Warnings: just a little jealousy, but mainly banter

Professor Hiddleston lived by three rules. Rule number one, always be kind to everyone you meet. Rule number two, dancing's not a crime. And rule number three, never get Starbucks for yourself without buying something for your TA, especially if she's working late. 

Professor Hiddleston strode into the library closest to the Oxford English department building as the grandfather clock rung ten times. His brown curls combed back, he wore a crisp three-piece suit and carried a leather messenger bag on his left shoulder. He immediately made his way towards the table where you were grading essays for his Fundamentals of Poetry course, and placed a Starbucks cup in front of you. 

"Grande Earl Grey Tea Latte with two shots of espresso and a dash of vanilla."

At the sound of his voice, you looked up from your papers and lowered your red felt tip pen. "Two weeks of working for you, and you've already figured out my coffee order?"

"Well, you were in my course for nearly five months before you became my teaching assistant." Professor Hiddleston gently corrected you with a smile, lowering the messenger bag from his shoulder while his right hand held a croissant wrapped in brown parchment paper. He took a bite into the flaky pastry and licked his bottom lip. "Plus, you always sat in the front row. I could smell the Earl Grey from your cup while I was lecturing."

"It was a course held at eight-thirty in the morning," you quipped, taking a sip. "I needed my caffeine. And so did you, judging by the tea cup on your desk."

Professor Hiddleston chuckled. He loved the way you always had a comeback ready for him. It made your relationship so much more than former student-former professor, or TA-and-professor. 

Being a relatively new professor at Oxford, you were the first teaching assistant he'd hired since he began his second year as a member of the university's faculty. Yes, his first course within the English department last year had a class size of almost two hundred students, but that number dwindled like drops of morning dew throughout the semester. And within the fifty or so students that remained, you were one of the few who stood out to him as someone genuinely interested in his class discussions and assignments. You showed up to every lecture, without fail, completely prepared and willing to bring your own ideas to the table. And to someone like Hiddleston, that was exactly what he needed in an assistant. Someone who could help him navigate the challenges of teaching a course from start to finish. 

So when the semester came to a close, and he'd finished doling out the final grades, he left a handwritten note on your term paper inviting you to see him in his office. When you arrived, he simply made you an offer, or rather a promise. He promised you the position of his first-ever TA, with a decent pay for a university student - about twenty-one thousand pounds a year - and the opportunity to be his "second-in-command", like a king's chief advisor, though some would say that a king's second-in-command is actually his queen…Never mind that for the moment. 

To say that working alongside you was enjoyable would be an understatement. He liked discussing with you in the library about life, literature, and how many times is appropriate to watch the same play. Professor Hiddleston found himself looking forward to each moment with you, to the point where he started ending his appointments five minutes earlier than scheduled, just so he could have a few minutes to comb his hair and put a little extra spritz of cologne before seeing you. And every time he had the privilege of introducing you as his new teaching assistant, whether he was talking to fellow professors or to one of his three classes this semester, Professor Hiddleston's face would light up as if he'd won the lottery. Actually, in Professor Hiddleston's mind that may as well be true; you were truly one of the best people he'd ever met since he joined the university.

You took another sip, and underlined a few awkwardly phrased sentences on the paper in front of you. "It looks like a lot of these people quoted Shakespeare's sonnet. You know, the one everybody knows about? 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?'" You wrote a 'B' on the paper and then grabbed another essay, pushing a section of hair out of your face. 

"You picked a good assignment for your Fundamentals of Poetry course, it's very fitting for the first essay of the semester," you remarked, bringing him back into reality. You read aloud the prompt, which asked the students to write about how poetry has affected their lives. They were encouraged to include examples of poems that had a lasting impact on their lives and their world views. And if Professor Hiddleston were true to his word, then he would possibly use the assignment as a basis to decide which of the poems from his course's syllabus he might actually teach.

"I thought so too." 

"-Thou art more lovely and more temperate," Professor Hiddleston murmured in continuation, taking a few steps so that he was now standing right next to your chair, his eyes on you while you graded the next essay. "Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date…" The half-eaten croissant completely forgotten, he placed his free hand on the table, inching it towards the essays and haphazardly-arranged pens until it was almost a millimeter away from your arm. He immediately froze as soon as he realized the proximity, his hand tensed all of a sudden.

His ability to recall verses at the drop of a hat was always impressive; it was one of the many things you liked about Professor Hiddleston. Your head down, you continued to skim the essay before marking it with a 'C+'. You sighed, "Exactly. But none of them seem to give proper explanations as to why this particular sonnet by Shakespeare. Listen to this, Professor. 'Shakespeare sonnet number eighteen has made me see the world in a more romantic way. I have learned to appreciate the beauty in the world, and see the 

Professor Hiddleston leaned against the table. "And why do you think that is an unsatisfactory explanation?" He asked with a small smile.

"Because that kind of an explanation could be used for any kind of poem. Alright, maybe not any kind of poem, but it's not specific to sonnet number eighteen."  

"I couldn't agree more," Professor Hiddleston simply said. "There's no clarification as to why that particular sonnet, or Shakespeare's sonnets in general?"

"No, not really." Putting the 'C+' essay along with the other graded ones, you reached for the Starbucks cup. "I just don't understand why a bunch of the students would all quote the same sonnet for this assignment, and then all use…shoddy explanations." 

Your word choice made him chuckle and look down for a moment. You could definitely make a great professor yourself.

Just then, your phone vibrated, and you reached down to the leg of your chair, into your bag to check it.

Professor Hiddleston crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders as the smile disappeared. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, my boyfriend Chris just texted me. He's upset about having to postpone our date night."

He sighed aloud. 

"What is it?" You frowned and put the phone away. 

"I don't like him."

"You haven't even met the guy." 

He looked you in the eye, arms still crossed. "Not entirely true. I saw him pick you up from this very library two days ago, at eight-thirty. It was after you finished grading my pop quizzes on "The Fall of the House of Usher". He's a tall, blonde,…surfer, beach bum kind of boy, right? This Christopher of yours-"

You nearly gave the professor a scowl. "He hates being called that."

"I'm just saying that you could do better than this Christopher. He's just not the type of guy that you should be with."

You shook your head. "You're a wonderful professor, but I'm not taking dating advice from someone who's dating three different women at the same time." You retorted and picked up the red felt tip pen for no reason. 

His eyebrows furrowed. "Now hang on just a moment -" He interjected, "We agreed that nothing was to be exclusive."

"Is 'we' referring to you and your cell phone?" Alright, that wasn't your best comeback ever, you had to admit. It was late, and more than anything, you needed a warm hug and some sleep. 

"Drink your tea, it's getting cold." Professor Hiddleston pointed to your Starbucks cup, and then took a bite into the croissant, which was already starting to feel tough, almost rubbery in his mouth. "There's something I wanted to show you. Something I want for tomorrow's class."

"What is it?"

Professor Hiddleston ate the rest of the croissant in a single bite, reached into his bag, and retrieved a leather-bound book, its edges slightly torn up. The pages were almost a yellowish-beige, barely glued to the spine, and covered in dust. 

He began to flip through the pages. "It all began with the gods having a feast, hosted by the sea god Ægir. Loki grew jealous of all the praise being heaped upon the other guests, and slew Ægir's servant Fimafeng." 

"The Lokasenna," Professor Hiddleston introduced, a touch of theatricality in his voice, the same voice he used for his lectures. "It's a poem from Norse mythology, one of the poems from the Poetic Edda, describing the exchange of insults between Loki - the god of mischief - and the other gods."

"Interesting choice…it's certainly no Shakespearean sonnet." You commented.

You took a drink from your Starbucks, nodding. "Hm-hm." The clock inside the library rung eleven times, the sound as solemn as  funeral march. 

"And then," he sat across from you and continued to narrate, "Loki enters the hall and demands to be seated. The other gods are reluctant, but Loki recalls an old vow sworn with Odin that they should drink together. So, the gods make some space for Loki." Professor Hiddleston's eyes twinkled with excitement. "And Loki continues to insult the gods, and no one can seem to stop him. The only one…" he turned the page, "who can stop Loki is Thor, the son of Odin, because Thor is the only one who Loki fears."

"Thor, the…god of thunder?"

"Thor the god of thunder," Professor Hiddleston flipped the page again.

You asked him if the book contained any original Norse dialect, or any Old Norse. It turns out it was just a one-of-a-kind book about Loki left in the Oxford library hundreds of years ago, containing an English word-for-word translation of the Lokasenna, along with an interpretation of each verse. It could've been a collector's item, sitting in the study of some member of the bourgeoise, but it served a more glorious purpose in the library of a university, available for literature enthusiasts. 

I, Lopt, from a journey long,

Professor Hiddleston cleared his throat and began reading to you the part where Loki demanded the other gods for a drink.

"Thirsty I come | into this thine hall,

To ask of the gods | that one should give

Fair mead for a drink to me."

He paused only to sneeze, which should've been expected given the amount of dust within the old book.

Professor Hiddleston sneezed again, and you noticed a small cloud of blue dust rise from the book when he did. He finished the verse,

"Why sit ye silent, | swollen with pride,

Ye gods, and no answer give?"

"At your feast a place and a seat prepare me,

Or bid me forth to fare."

After he sneezed a third time, louder than before, another cloud of blue dust escaped from the pages. Only this time, the cloud of blue dust grew larger, and larger…until it began to swirl around the two of you.

"What's happening?" You hurriedly stood up from your chair. 

Professor Hiddleston gulped, his eyes wide as he dropped the book onto the table and immediately reached for your arm. "I-I-I don't know! I…Are we being transported to another realm?!"

"I should hope not!"

After what felt like several moments of confusion, the blue dust subsided. Before you stood a tall man with shoulder-length, greasy black hair, a pale oblong face with defined cheekbones, and a deceptive smirk. He wore a cape lined with green silk, that billowed around his ankles as he strode towards you, and his black leather heeled shoes clicked as he walked. 

Professor Hiddleston made his way forward, standing between you and the tall man with his hands out. "Who are you?" He demanded, his lip quivering. 

"I am Loki of Asgard," the man smugly introduced himself. With a wave of his hand, a set of golden horns appeared on his head, and a dagger in his other hand. Another wave, and both of those things disappeared. "And I have been summoned."

Tag list: @lokischambermaid @smolvenger @lokidbadguy @turniptitaness @lokisgoodgirl @evelyn-kingsley @lovelysizzlingbluebird @muddyorbsblr @anukulee @omgsuperstarg @holdmytesseract @lokidbadguy @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life

[momo-de-avis]

We've been getting some of the shittiest groups possible. People travelling with their whole families, 7 at a time, all of them disruptive, disregarding of the tour and everyone else. Nobody listens to what I'm saying. People abandon the tour to go grab a starbucks coffee and don't tell me. They wander off to go into a stupid souvenir store and expect to catch up with me later, only to find out that they're lost. They talk over me all the time, while I'm explaining what is the food you're having, only for them to ask me "what is this". I literally just explained it to you. People who ask stupid questions, and I mean "why is that sign saying 'castle' pointing at the river" level of stupid. Nobody is on time. People pay 22€ for a tour, which they acknowledge is nothing, and don't even bother to be on time. They arrive late with their hands full of starbucks coffee and bags with bread and pastries. Keep asking me every five minutes where can they piss like they're a five year old with a flimsy bladder. Scream at me when they got lost by their own account. Treat me like shit if they're having a bad day. They book a three hour tour and just don't understand when the tour doesn't end three hours after on the dot even though there's fourteen people. Book a tour and a museum entrance two hours later even though it says on the voucher that this is a three hour tour and pester me every fucking second like donkey with the "are we there yet" about when exactly us the tour ending. None of these people tip and that's when you should tip, that's financial compensation for the emotional damage I've suffered in the three and a half hours I've been dealing with you. Fuck you all.

[levans44]

Damage Control - Chapter 3

She returns to work on Monday morning with tired lines around her eyes and a heavy weight in her chest. Taking the usual walk to her workplace in the Flatiron Building, at the busy intersection between Broadway and 5th, she turns the corner to find an unusually large gathering across the street from her building.

As she approaches the group, she could make out the fact that it was some sort of protest — not unusual given her company’s association with SHIELD.

Normally, she’d resort to the back entrance to avoid all the press and chaos, but the slogans are what slow her step.

No more supers!

Protect CITIZENS not MUTANTS

Her eyebrows furrow as she tries to get a closer look. Anti-hero sentiment had only risen after Thanos and the blip, but she’d only heard about these protests from co-workers until now.

BRING BACK SRA!

SRA: the superhero registration act.

The idea sends a nervous spark in her stomach — she was all too familiar with the politics of it all, the bureaucracy. Knows that the abolishment of the SRA after the siege of Asgard was the only reason why there’s a steady stream of federal funding going into SHIELD, into Damage Control. Knows that if they brought back the Act, her department might get completely shut down, and she’d lose a steady 9 to 5 that’s been keeping her afloat for the past four years.

Yet, something deeper inside of her, the side of her that she tries to conceal most times, compels her to change course. She walk straight over to the group of avid 20-somethings at the front of the protest, tugging nervously at the collar of her blouse.

Trying to catch the attention of New Yorkers too busy pretending to be on their phones to give him a second glance, the man collecting petitions watches with wide eyes as she approaches their table voluntarily.

Quickly surveying her surroundings, she ducks her head, scribbling her name down on the list.

“Thank you so much, would you like-”

She cuts him off, rushing in a hushed voice.

“No thank you, just uhm, make sure you guys stay on this side of the street. Security can’t disband you as long as you come too close to the building.”

He looks surprised, but nods appreciatively “We will, thank you.”

She turns around and scurries off into her building without a second glance, hoping she that no one saw her, and that her boss wasn’t going to be too mad about being late to work.

The elevator dings at level five: the Executive Floor. The automated voice of E.D.I.T.H., an A.I. system Tony had wanted to test out in her office, announced her arrival as the glass doors slid open.

Her workplace was structured as an open-office, quintessentially New York with all its high ceilings, exposed brick, and lots of sun. Tony, upon a small visit two years ago, had insisted on revamping the place with some 21st-century technology (hence, E.D.I.T.H. and a bunch of high-tech 3D printers that people still didn’t know how to use).

Throwing her jacket down on her corner of the office, she rushes into the general meeting office. The first thing on her agenda every day at 9 am? The morning briefing. Today, she’s over 10 minutes late.

She scrambles through the automatic glass door and all eyes fall on her.

With an apologetic smile, she slides down into a chair at her usual spot, next to her coworker and best friend, Robin Chapel.

She spots a cup of Starbucks already placed on the table in front of her and shoots her friend an appreciative smile, taking a sip to find that it had turned cold, but just as effective at helping her wake up a bit.

She tries to focus on whatever topic was being discussed by the rest of the group, a task that proves more difficult when her mind kept running back to that protest, and, of course, lingering thoughts of that weekend.

She’s interrupted by the sound of someone calling her name, maybe twice, but she doesn’t notice until Robin nudges her side. She perks up from her daze to realize that the rest of the table was staring at her expectantly.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry…”

Her boss, Anne Hoag, sits at the head of the table, repeating the question with disapproval growing in her voice.

“I said, do you have the Times Square writeup?”

“Oh, yes, yes I do…”

It takes her forever to find the files in the jumbled mess of documents in her bag, before she’s able to slide the crumpled sheets forward. Anne gives her another pointed look through thick-rimmed, black cat-eye glasses before collecting the report, and clears her throat before resuming the meeting.

By the end, her mind feels exhausted, and she’s only further discouraged when she checks the clock: only 9:40 am. She stuffs her belongings back in her bag, holding onto what little was left in her coffee cup like a lifeline as she makes her way out.

“Ugh, did you see those protesters outside again?” She feels Robin suddenly bump into her side as they squeezes their way out of the conference room.

She gulps, washing the nervous ball in her chest down with more coffee.

“Mhm, yeah.”

“I mean what do these people think we’re going to do, stop Captain America from saving people?” Robin rolls her eyes, letting out a snort.

She almost drops what’s in her hand at the mention of his name, and barely nods in response, quickly raising her cup to her lips for another nervous sip. Robin frowns, surveying her face intently.

“Hey, you alright? You seem really off this morning."

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

Robin frowns and opens her mouth, but is interrupted before she can object.

“Is that a new necklace?” She points at Robin’s neck, where a shiny new piece of jewelry hung.

“Oh, yeah.” Robin blushes, hand reaching up to tug at the small, square pendant. “Anniversary present from John. He got us a table at that fancy French place last night. You know, the one on Lafayette?”

Despite the thought of last night heavily weighing down the back of her mind, she becomes genuinely gladdened by the sight of Robin’s wide smile, her enthusiasm about John. The three of them started working at Damage Control around the same time, but Robin and John, both being highly competitive people, had hated each others’ guts during the early stages of their career. She had wingwoman-ed the heck out of both of them for the first three exhausting years, and they were finally able to admit their attraction to each other just this last month.

“Anyways, what about you, how was your weekend?” Robin nudges her side as they walked down the office corridor, eager to move on from talking about her budding relationship.

Shit. Think fast.

“It was uh…” Mortifying? Humiliating? Traumatizing? She chews on the rim of her coffee cup, an anxious habit, before shrugging as nonchalantly as she could.

“Boring.”

Robin raises a sharp eyebrow. “Uh huh. I know you better than that, you know.”

She knows her friend would press on the issue until she got her to confess, but they are interrupted by a coworker from Robin’s department.

“Ms. Chapel? We need your approval for the new Madison traffic guidelines.”

“Ugh, alright.” Robin waves the employee off before turning back around, pointing a firm finger at her. “Don’t think we’re done talking about this” She mutters, keeping eye contact while walking backwards to her division of the office.

She gives Robin an amused eye-roll and a loud ‘mhmm,’ before starting to head for her own desk, ready for another long day of work.

Suddenly, she hears Anne’s voice call out her name from back in the meeting room.

Fuck.

She winces, loudly, dragging her feet back to the conference room and bracing herself for the worst. Anne isn’t usually the kind of boss to nitpick her employees’ behavior, but surely she had noticed something was off about her this morning.

“Yeah, Anne?”

“I need you to deliver some term sheets to an investor for me this morning. He’s agreed to funding this new subdivision for months but he always forgets to sign the damn documents.”

That’s it, just some signature deliveries? She lets out a rather loud sigh of relief.

“Sure, no problem, where can I find him?”

Anne lets out a snort, shaking her head amusedly “God knows, probably drunk off his ass flying over Empire State.”

“Huh?”

“Tony. I need you to get Tony Stark’s signature.”

Well, shit. She lets out a loud wince, which catches Anne’s attention. Her boss glances up with a raised eyebrow, peering at her questioningly over the thick frames of her glasses.

“Sorry Anne, but, is there any way you could get Amy to do it?” She asks timidly, referring to Anne’s secretary and the floor receptionist.

“Why, is there a problem?” There was that signature Anne look. A mixture of disappointment, judgement, and altogether absolutely terrifyingly stern gaze. Anne was a great boss if you heeded to her (normally) reasonable instructions, but you did not want to see what happens if you try and challenge her judgement.

“Uh, no, nope. I can go.”

The 40 minute drive to upstate NY is therapeutic in some ways, yet not so much in others. Initially, it felt to get away from all the noise and traffic, but as she drives closer and closer to the Avengers Compound, she feels a familiar sense of dread creeping up behind her. She reaches for the dashboard, hoping that some of her road trip favorites will help ease her stomach.

She halts in front of the giant gates of the compound while humming the last few notes of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now, which lifts her mood substantially, all things considered. Another one of Tony’s automated voices asks for identification as she rolls down her window, and lets her in soon after.

Anne’s request had been to deliver some files to Tony and talk over with him about investments. She wasn’t worried about renewing the deal with him — Tony was a self-proclaimed philanthropist after all, and he and Anne went way back. What she was worried about was… well, a little less work-related.

When she steps out of her car and walks in through the heavy glass doors, the distinct smell of greasy french fries is the first to greet her.

Next is Tony, still in his pajamas and fluffy bunny slippers, naturally.

“Manhattan!” Tony greets cheerfully, a half-eaten cheeseburger in his right hand.

She trails behind him up to the second floor, and briefly relives the horror she felt clambering down it a few days prior. When they reach the giant lounge area, she notices the McDonalds wrappers and drink cups strewn all across the coffee table.

“So. You’ve officially moved into the compound now, huh?”

Tony ignores her teasing, meaning around a mouthful of his Quarter Pounder. “Best way to get over a hangover, I’m tellin’ ya. You want one?” He point to a tall line of burgers stacked on the kitchen counter, which she eyes with disdain. At 11 in the morning? How does he do it?

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself” He shrugs, taking another bite as he walks through the open living room, plopping down on a blue couch.

That couch. The last time she was here, that was where she and… no.

She suppresses her stray thoughts, and instead obeys Tony’s gestures for her to join him at his seat.

“Well, I’m sure Anne’s told you why I’m here.” She carefully sinks into the loveseat across Tony, starting to pull out the documents from her bag.

“Yeah, yeah, leave whatever I have to sign on the table.” He waves her off with a nonchalant nod. She slides the folder across the coffee table, careful to avoid puddles of grease and ketchup.

“While you are here, though, I do wanna talk about something else.”

Oh no.

She’s afraid to even ask, so she stays silent.

“What happened with Cap this weekend? I mean aside from the… y’know.”

She clears her throat, straightening up in her seat, and shrugs. Play innocent, she figures. Maybe he’ll stop asking that way.

“Well, whatever happened, that man won’t leave the compound. Been sulky all day.”

She’s about to roll her eyes at the image of a sulky Captain America until she realizes in horror that-

“Wait, he’s here?”

Too late.

She frantically follows Tony’s gaze, whipping around in her seat to see him, standing rather awkwardly in the entrance to the living room. Next to the stairs. Exactly where she had ran out on him the other day.

Great.

What was with this guy and terribly timed entrances? She’s never ran into him when she was at the compound for business with Tony before, but of course the one time she's praying he isn’t here, he is.

Guess karma really does have ingenious ways of biting you in the ass.

He’s covered in sweat, towel around his neck like he just spent a whole day at the gym.

God, is this guy ever not working out?

Something about his demeanor had changed since the last time she saw him, however, and once the horrified realization clears from his eyes, his expression immediately turns stoic, jaw setting.

Almost an expression he’d pull as Captain America, one that would never fail to intimidate his trivial foes, but she wasn’t one of them. She saw through the bullshit. The tired lines below his eyes. The hurt in the green of his irises. The insecurity beneath it all.

She almost feels a sense of guilt at how obviously unfamiliar he was to all of this. He had even told her, rather nervously so, that night before they…

But then again, so was she. This whole situation was anything but routine to her. But that doesn’t mean that she owes him anything. Never did, never will. Not even if he can’t realize that their night was not gonna remain as anything but a terrible mistake.

“Hey, Tony.” She’s surprised by how raspy his voice sounds as he nods discretely in the direction of her ex-boss, wholly ignoring her as he turns around, walking off in the other direction.

Tony lets out a low whistle even before Steve is out of earshot.

“Jeez, what did happen after I left?”

“Nothing, we just…”

She lets out a small sigh, unable to finish the sentence, eyes focusing on a small paper bag grease stain instead.

Tony lets out her name in that familiar, concerned tone, hands folded in front of him, elbows resting on his knees.

“Did you… did you do it out of spite?”

She flinches visibly, eyebrows creasing in something reminiscent of anger. “What? No, Tony I’d never– I just…” She lowers her head, covering her face with both hands and breathes in.

“It shouldn’t have happened, all right? I just… I don’t know how I let it get that far.”

He leans back, folding his arms and letting out a sigh.

“Maybe you should just talk to him. Trust me. He’s got no fucking clue what he’s doing.”

Neither does she, but she doesn’t tell him that. Instead, she looks up, eyeing the concerned look on Tony face one last time with pursed lips. Then, she stands up, smoothing down the front of her dress skirt, and gathers the rest of her files back in her bag.

“I gotta go. Don’t forget about the meeting today.”

To her relief, the concern on Tony’s face dwindles at the reminder. He lets out a disgruntled noise, as if he was newly informed that he had to attend the company-wide meeting instead of Pepper this time, who was currently occupied at an overseas press conference.

He rolls his eyes, wiping his mouth with a napkin he then carelessly tosses back on the table.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”

Arms crossed, he stands in the doorway of the compound as her car pulls out of the driveway. He waves, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling down in his stomach, like he knows something was bound to go wrong soon.

And oh boy, was he right.

Damage Control Masterlist

[gardenofchrome]

Pacific Rim Headcanons #6

How PR characters would react to a clingy S/O while dropping them off at a campus

Requested by @screechinginthevoid

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

After a while of being in the PPDC, you decided leave and pursue your other goals, and go to a university to major in [whatever you want to major in]. Your S/O decides to go with you to campus.

Raleigh+Yancy: The brothers would lead you to campus, where you would cling onto them tightly, not wanting to leave them. They would spend the entire day on campus, leading you around to each of your classes so that you wouldn't be alone, but eventually had to go back to the shatterdome.

Mako: You grip her hand tightly, extremely nervous for your first day of classes and to be without her for a long period of time. She softly tells you a few encouraging words, promising you to get some Starbucks (or some food from your favorite restaurant) after all your classes are finished for the day.

Chuck: He walks alongside you to campus, where you hold his arm tightly, not wanting to leave him. He scoffs at you, and tries to gently remove you from his arm, telling you that you're going to be late if you don't get going. Before you leave, he gives you a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead, promising you take you out to dinner later that night.

"Come on Y/N, you can fight a 10 ton 120 meter monster in a giant robot but you can't spend 6 hours without me?"

"Yeah."

Herc: You cling onto his torso when you guys arrive at campus. He gives you a tight hug, nearly cracking your ribs, and promises you that if anyone tries to harm you or cause you any grief he'd make them disappear.

"Just kidding...but seriously though."

Stacker: He makes sure to remind you a bunch of times that it'll only be for a few hours before you see him again, but nevertheless, you cling onto him like you're a five year old and its your first day of kindergarten. He reminds you yet again, gently forcing you in the direction of your class.

Newt: He takes the day off to get you to your campus, you gripping onto his hand tightly. He promises you that he's not going to disappear of the face of the planet while you're gone and hands over your McDonalds happy meal.

Hermann: He takes you to campus where he tries to lead you to class, but you tightly hold onto his arm, refusing to let go. Finally, he manages to persuade you into letting go, telling you that its just a few hours, nothing major.

"See, this is why you should've stayed in the lab with me. But to each their own, I'm glad you're going after your own interests."

Tendo: You made him solemnly swear that he wouldn't do anything stupid without your supervision, and him constantly reminding you that its only a few hours, before you let go, kissing him on the cheek and running off to your first class.

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

Yayyy I actually managed to write this and it didn't take months :D

[depressedhatakekakashi]

High School Teacher Au

Kakashi shows up fourteen minutes late to every single class with starbucks in hand and zero will to live, but somehow never finds he’s fallen behind on getting the material to his students.

Rin is the teacher who shows up at the same time as her students even though she woke up at five in the morning to get here. She stopped for breakfast and got distracted grading papers. This is the one class that the kids know they will always get their assignment grades two days after they hand it in.

Gai’s there three hours early doing laps around the school while he waits for everyone to show up. Kakashi always interrupts his fist class before heading to his own, because he always has a nice cup of tea in hand that Gai has been waiting all morning for. The man always seems to have energy and his student’s arn’t quit sure how.

Obito arrived two minutes late with dango for everyone so his student’s arn’t even mad at him. He also loves to tell stories during class and finds himself rushing to teach the material by the end of the year because his students keep distracting him and convincing him to tell them random stories

[zombizombi]

hummingbird heartbeat - pt45

It was difficult to take Kent’s -- and Jeff’s, and Jack’s -- advice. Not that they were wrong, because Bitty knew they weren’t. It was just… not his nature, he supposed, to step back like that.

It did seem to work, though. At least a little. Whiskey wasn’t overtly avoiding him any more in the dining hall, at least.

“So!” Bitty said, catching him at breakfast one day, “Your parents are coming up from Arizona!” 

Whiskey gave him a blank stare.

“I know they couldn’t make it to the family weekend game last year,” Bitty continued. “So you gotta be excited!”

“Yeah,” Whiskey said. “It’ll be fun.”

Bitty laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah! And, um. You’re starting and all, so they must be so… excited!” He already said excited. Fuck. 

“Yeah.” Whiskey glanced back down at the toaster.

“Whiskey,” Bitty said, “I just wanted to say, y’know, if you ever --”

The bread popped up and Whiskey coughed, snatching it out of the toaster before making his excuses and leaving Bitty to toast his bagel alone.

“I am giving him space,” Bitty said that night, as Kent stripped in his bedroom after repeating his previous advice.

“I dunno, babe,” Kent said as he set his clothes off to the side in a carefully folded pile. “Are you giving him, like. Your version of space or his version of space?”

“Lord, honey, I don’t know,” said Bitty, “how should I know?” How did you know what someone’s version of ‘space’ was? “But it’s not like I can completely avoid him. I’m his captain. We have to interact! So how do I tell him, like. ‘It’s cool, I didn’t see anything’?”

“You mean like how d’you lie to him?” Kent asked, climbing into bed. He’d come by, just for one night, in between games on an East Coast roadie. It was out of the way, and Bitty felt… a bit bad about it, to be honest, but any excuse to have Kent in his bed was worth taking. Kent wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, anyway.

“It’s not, like, lying,” Bitty said. “I mean, what if he wants to talk about it, and doesn’t think he can? Or --”

“If you say you didn’t see anything, then he’ll know you did see something,” Kent said, wiggling under the covers, “because if you didn’t see anything then you wouldn’t have any reason to say you didn’t see anything, so that means you totally saw something. Right?”

“Oh my god,” said Bitty. “Who are you, Joe Hardy?”

“Please, I’d obviously be Frank and you know it.” Kent stretched, bringing one arm up to rest behind his head.

“But Joe was the blond one,” Bitty said.

“Frank was the hot one,” Kent countered.

Was he? “But --”

“Okay, Carolyn Keene, thrilling as this is,” Kent interrupted.

“Carolyn Keene did not write the Hardy Boys,” Bitty said. 

Ignoring him, Kent continued. “We kind of need to talk about your dad before we go to sleep, so --”

“What?” Bitty swallowed. “No, why -- we weren’t talking about him.” They had avoided talking about Coach the entire visit. Well, mostly. Bitty took a breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey, I --”

“He’s coming tomorrow, isn’t he?” Kent asked. He had to leave first thing in the morning to catch a flight, wouldn’t be there. “To your game. And you haven’t seen him since what... March, right?”

March. Before everything, before The Kiss. Not that anyone in his family said a word to him about it.

Ugh. “You’ll be long gone before then, so what’s there to talk about?” Bitty snapped, hunching his shoulders. 

“Um,” Kent said.

“There would only be something to talk about if Coach was gonna see you,” said Bitty. “And he’s not. So.”

Kent nodded, looking down at the sheets. He picked at a loose thread, not speaking.

“I’m not being avoidant,” Bitty said, and Kent eyes flicked back up to him for just a moment. “I’m not. And it’s not that I don’t want you to see him, either. He’s just coming to watch us play. Who cares.” 

Kent worried the skin of his lower lip with his teeth for a moment. “I just think, um. It would be normal to have some… feelings about it?” He glanced back up at Bitty.

Bitty sighed. “Okay, yes,” he said. “Fine. I haven’t seen him in a while, but. I’ll see him before the game, and we’ll get a tense and stoic dinner afterwards. It’s fine.”

Kent’s arm slid around him. Gently pressing a kiss into his hair, Kent pulled Bitty down and tugged him close. “Okay,” he murmured. 

“Kent Parson, go to sleep and stop tormenting me with your sleuthing.” Bitty wound Kent’s chain around his finger, rubbing the Saint Michael pendant with his thumb. “You’re getting up so early.”

“Mmm.” Kent nuzzled the back of Bitty’s neck. “All right. G’night, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Bitty said.

The following day was a blur. Kent left before the crack of dawn, barely waking Bitty to say goodbye. Bitty couldn’t pay attention in any of his classes; between the half-sleep he’d gotten once Kent left and the anxiety of the upcoming game, he wasn’t particularly well-rested. As a group of them walked back to the Haus that afternoon, Bitty contemplated how much time he had to nap before the game as they chattered about the weekend.

“Hops, I can’t wait to try your mom’s baking!” Ford grinned. 

“She watched all of Bitty’s vlog in preparation for the game,” Hops said. He turned to face them, walking backwards up the sidewalk. “Seriously, Bitty, she’s gonna freak when she meets you.”

So sweet. “Then I will surely freak out in return when I meet the beautiful woman who birthed John Hopper,” Bitty said, sliding his key into the Haus’s front door lock. She had to be an angel, raising such a gem of a son.

“I’m texting her you said that!” Hops said, heading into the Haus first.

Bitty followed him in, completely unprepared for the voice that called to them from the kitchen. “Hey! Y’all back?”

Bitty sucked in a quick breath. That sounded like -- but it wasn’t time yet. Surely not. He tugged his ball cap off, following the voice.

“There you are!” Coach pushed away from the counter, smiling. “Got in early,” he said. “That Asian boy let me in -- Chow.”

“Oh,” Bitty said, lowering his cap. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Texted you -- after checking into the hotel, no answer… And I thought it was silly to just sit around,” Coach said. “You know, your mom said this wasn’t like any of the frat houses I’ve seen, and boy, she ain’t wrong.” 

Fuck, Bitty had missed a text. A very crucial, informative text. The one time he wasn’t obsessively checking his phone -- he took a deep breath.

Plucking at the curtain over the sink, Coach squinted at it. “Aren’t these your aunt’s curtains?”

“They are,” Bitty said, because what else could he say? “She was fixing to throw ’em out.”

Coach blinked at him for a moment, and Bitty’s shoulders tightened.

“Um,” Bitty said. “Coach -- Dad. This is John, he’s a freshman, and Denice, she’s our manager. Y’all, this is my dad.”

Coach stepped forward, holding out a hand. “You can call me Coach!”

“Hi, Coach Bittle!” said Ford, shaking his hand.

“Wow, hi!” said Hops. “You look just like Bitty.”

Did he? Bitty frowned.

“You’re a football coach? My brothers play football!” Ford grinned as Coach smiled at her.

“Oh, hey! Whereabouts?” he asked.

“They’re only juniors in high school… But we currently live in San Diego,” she said.

“Okay!” Coach said. He frowned a little. “Hm, now -- football and California. Then how in the world did someone like you get roped into hockey?”

Ford laughed. “I --” 

“Dad,” Bitty said, interrupting them. “Some of the guys are gonna take naps before we head to Faber…”

“Oh, all right,” said Coach, waving a hand. “Just getting to know the team. It’s a pleasure to meet y’all.”

“Nice to meet you, Coach Bittle,” said Hops.

“Nice to meet you, Coach Bittle!” Ford smiled.

Coach cleared his throat and followed Bitty out of the kitchen to the entryway. “Well! I’m glad I could stop by before your warmups,” he said. “If any of your crew want to come with tonight -- there’s a little restaurant downtown where we can watch your friend Kent’s game.” Coach was smiling, but Bitty hadn’t missed what he said.

Your friend. As if that was all Kent was to him. Bitty narrowed his eyes. 

“See you, Junior,” Coach said, a moment later.

“Bye, Daddy,” Bitty said.

Before anyone had an opportunity to ask any questions, Bitty went upstairs to his room, tugging the door shut behind him. Leaning against it, he shut his eyes for a moment. 

Family day was going to be fine. 

The afternoon game started off a little chippy and stayed that way, with both teams taking penalty minutes and Dartmouth scoring on their first powerplay. Everyone on the bench chattered about the members of their family in attendance -- Tango’s mom had quite a mouth on her, if Bitty did say so himself. He tried not to think about Coach in the stands.

It had been a long time since Bitty really felt paralyzed by a check. He shouldn’t have even fallen after the hit, it was barely anything, but -- but he did, legs shaky and everything, ending up with both hands planted on the ice. Bitty took a breath. Fuck, he had to get up.

“Bitty, man!” That was Dex. 

Bitty took another breath.

“Hey.” That was Whiskey. “Can you get up?”

Bitty took a breath again.

They lost the game.

Coach asked Bitty, after catching up with him -- and his coaches, and his teammates -- in the dressing room, if he was ready to go watch “his friend Kent’s” game.

“Yeah,” Bitty said.

Coach drove them to the restaurant in a rented truck, going over points of Bitty’s game and occasionally talking about Kent’s upcoming game.

Or rather, Bitty’s friend Kent. Coach made sure to put friend in front of Kent’s name.

He just kept saying it like that, every time -- “your friend Kent.” 

At the restaurant. During the game. In the car to go back. He never called Kent anything but Bitty’s friend, not once.

As they got into the car to head back to the Haus, Bitty couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, your mama and I’ve been talking about this winter break… your friend Kent --”

“He’s not my friend,” Bitty said, trying to keep his voice even.

Coach sighed. “Come on,” he said. “You’re getting snippy because you’re --”

Getting snippy? Getting snippy? Really?

“If you don’t like us together, then just say it,” Bitty snapped, losing any semblance of control over his tone, “but he’s my boyfriend! If you don’t support it, then just say it!”

“W -- so I fly all the way up here to watch you play because I don’t support you?” Coach huffed. “Where’s the sense in that?”

Because flying up to watch your son’s game was totally the same as supporting his being gay. Absolutely the same. “Watching me play a sport and admitting I’m dating Kent are two different things,” Bitty said. He crossed his arms over his chest, pulling them in tight.

“I know you’re with him,” said Coach. “I’m trying not to make it a big deal.”

Not to make it a big deal? It was a huge deal. They were -- not the point, that wasn’t the point. “Then stop pretending that he’s not my boyfriend!”

“I never said he wasn’t --”

Oh, lord. As if just calling him Bitty’s friend constantly wasn’t basically the same thing? “You haven’t once acknowledged --”

“You want me to treat it like it’s normal, then?” 

Bitty sucked in a sharp breath. The memory of Kent’s mother shoving a pamphlet for conversion therapy across the table sprang into his mind, unbidden, and something in his stomach dropped.

“Or what,” Coach went on, “you want me hollering and marching in a damn parade and getting all the rainbows --”

“Just treat it like it’s something that exists --” Bitty interrupted, but he didn’t get to finish, either.

“How? You didn’t tell us!” Coach snapped. “We had to find out from the TV --”

“Because -- I just want --” Bitty swallowed. This is why I didn’t tell you. “I want you to say there’s nothing wrong with it!”

Coach sighed, pressed a hand to his forehead. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Christ. 

He’d known it would be like this. Bitty had always known that, even before those kids at school locked him into that closet. If Coach wanted to pretend he hadn’t known Bitty was gay for a long time, that was fine, but Bitty knew better. They’d known forever, his parents. They’d always known. Nobody ever talked about it, nobody said anything except the stuff Bitty heard in church, but he wasn’t stupid. Coach knew Bitty was different a long time ago, knew he wasn’t the kind of boy strong men wanted to have as a son.

“I want you to tell me I’m not messed up!” Bitty’s eyes burned. Weak. “Please,” he said, bringing a hand up to cover his face as the tears spilled over. “J-just tell me you don’t think I’m messed up. I know you’ve always thought I was.” Bitty sniffed a little, but it was fucking useless. He was turning into a sobbing mess in front of his daddy and there was nothing he could do about it. He sucked in a hitching breath, scrubbed at his face with one arm. “Because I didn’t wanna play football and all the baking and the girly stuff. Please, just tell me that you -- that it’s okay. You don’t think I’m messed up.”

“You’ve never been messed up,” said Coach, and his voice was maybe softer than Bitty could remember ever hearing it. “I never thought that.” His hand descended on Bitty’s shoulder. “And you and Kent being together… that don’t make you messed up.” He paused. “You know that.”

Bitty knew that? How could -- how could he sit there and say that? They never talked. Not ever, not Bitty’s whole life, and he just -- “Daddy… how am I supposed to know what you think?” Bitty asked, not looking at him.

After a moment, Coach pulled his hand away. “I’ll take you back to the Haus,” he said.

( the whole thing is on AO3 )

[sluttyten]

time out

summary: you and yangyang have hated each other from the very first time you met, but he’s great friends with your roommate. when she gets tired of all the fighting, she puts the two of you together in time out until you can get along

length: 1,928 words

tags: enemies to lovers, meet ugly, angry sex, rough sex

Maybe it was odd to live in this day and age, to be no one of vital cultural or political importance, and to claim that you have an enemy. A mortal nemesis. And not like the kind that you have to deal with when you're playing games.

Liu YangYang was your enemy. He lived to spite you.

You first met YangYang by happenstance. Your first full day living in Seoul, freshly arrived and fully enrolled to take classes at a university. Things should have been good but they weren't because it was storming and you'd overslept so you'd missed your bus, and then there you were after a rough morning and this guy just stole your expensive Starbucks drink right off the counter.

And then he spilled it on you by walking right into you.

The next time you met him, was even worse. Because it was in your apartment as he snuck out of your roommate's room. After they'd had noisy sex that kept you awake, and they'd fallen stopped and fallen silent about thirty minutes before.

You'd thought they were asleep, so you ventured out to the kitchen, and that's when you spot him tiptoeing from her room. Clearly he was trying to sneak out of this one night stand, so when you loudly start complaining that he's the same guy that stole your drink at Starbucks and spilled it on you, he grows irritated. Especially when your roommate pops her head out the door and sees him trying to sneak out.

So he kinda dislikes you for that.

And then you realize that you have a class with him, and that's only the first of many similarities that you and your worst enemy share, the things that keep throwing you together just so you can butt heads in the worst of ways.

When your roommate starts to fuck YangYang semi-regularly, you have to see even more of him. Unfortunately, you also hear quite a bit too. Sometimes you'll come home late from classes and he's just there grabbing a snack or a drink from the kitchen (too many times it's been something of yours that he's taking).

To make it worse, she stops fucking him and actually becomes friends with YangYang, which means that he's around even more and that's really not fair, because you like your roommate. You're actually really close with her, but she has a shitty taste in guys she hooks up with and then becomes friends with.

"Friends don't do this kind of shit," you complain to her one day after you came home to find YangYang there. He'd left almost immediately, too pissed at you to even be able to pretend to tolerate your presence. "How can you be friends with my worst enemy?"

She rolls her eyes. "You two are so dramatic."

On the rare occasions when you are in each others presence for longer than five minutes, there are always fiery arguments that flare up about the simplest things. Many times either one of you will bring up issues from long ago, the sources of your feud such as him stealing your drink and spilling it on you or you ratting him out while he was trying to sneak out.

It annoys your roommate to no end, even after two years of you being her friend and roommate, two years of YangYang being your enemy and her friend.

"Can't the two of you please shut the hell up!" She yells, getting between you and him.

Tonight he's at your apartment. He's made himself comfortable on the sofa with your roommate, but he's using your blanket to get comfy, all snuggled up in it like it's his own.

"I'm going to put you in time out if you can't behave!" She says again, putting on a motherly tone she's begun adopting when she has the two of you in the same space. "I'm so tired of this. Just grow up. You're not enemies, you're just being children."

You don't expect her to actually do it, but then she's somehow grabbed you and YangYang, dragging you both by the arms into your bedroom. She shuts the door and tells you both to work it out. She's not letting either of you out of this apartment until you've talked it out and finally get along.

She slams your bedroom door shut, and a moment later you hear the door of the apartment shut too.

You're not sure you've ever actually been alone with YangYang. You're not entirely sure what to do.

But then he starts bitching at you for getting the two of you locked in your bedroom together, how it's always your fault, that you're the one that started it tonight, just like usual.

He's right there in front of you, his eyes burning as he looks at you. His lips are moving but the rushing sound of your heart pounding with building anger begins to drown out his words until you're only looking at YangYang's lips and you're angry and you want him to just shut up.

Both of you make sounds of shock when you kiss him.

You didn't mean to, but it worked.

YangYang stops talking, though for an instant his lips kept moving against yours, before shock overwhelmed you both and you pull apart.

"You kissed me," YangYang gasps. "What the fuck?"

Your mind races. You don't know why you did that. You hadn't been thinking about kissing him, but it had happened anyway.

He stares at you, and you can't wrap your mind around that you'd just kissed your mortal nemesis. That he was still standing there right in front of you, that he was still looking right at your lips.

When YangYang kisses you it's slightly less of a surprise.

He channels everything he's got into the kiss--the anger and frustration, the confusion and the hungry passion.

You don't make it to your bed. YangYang's hungry kiss sweeps you right in, pulls you closer, weakens your knees so you're dragging him down with you as you sink to the floor. YangYang presses his body over yours, hands pushing under and pushing away clothes. You drag and tear at his clothes too, and he curses your name when you succeed in stretching the collar of his tshirt, the fabric making a popping sound as the seams rip a little, exposing just a little bit more of his skin which you bring your mouth to.

It's angry, the way that you kiss, the way you touch each other. His hands grab roughly at your thighs. He jerks your pants down your legs. You scratch down his back, bite at YangYang's shoulders when he drags his shirt over his head.

And when finally you're all hot skin against hot skin, sharp tongues and teeth, gruff voices hissing at each other and cursing, at last YangYang thrusts into you. He's not even slightly gentle, doesn't go easy.

He braces his arms on either side of your head, fingers tangling with your hair splayed across the floor. He leans up over you and as he starts to pound into you--speaking filth about how tight your cunt feels around him, how pathetic you sound as you whine with each deep press of his cock inside you--you grip at his hips and sides, dragging your nails over his skin, and you lift your head from the floor to kiss and lick and suck and bite at his chest.

This is a different kind of a fight, but at the same time it's the same fight you've been having for two years.

You shove YangYang over onto his back, grab his hands and pin them above his head as you ride him, taking your own pleasure on his cock. He keeps struggling against your hold on his hands, swearing and moaning when you lower your head to keep marking up his chest.

You're both in constant motion, struggling to be on top, to be in control.

YangYang fights his hands free of your hold, and he sits up, grabbing your hips and pulling you down on his cock as he thrusts up into you. You grab a handful of his hair, yanking on it until he's gasping and your name bleeds from his lips almost like a plea. His fingers dig into your ass, he pulls his hands away just to slap a burning handprint against your skin.

You pull him down over you as you sink down onto your back, your arms twisted around the back of his neck, your legs fastened around his hips.

YangYang pistons into you, and you twist your fingers through his hair and crush his mouth to yours.

He goes still at last when he cums. His mouth moves slowly against yours, his body collapsing over you, pinning you to the floor.

"I think I like time out," YangYang mumbles against your lips. Slowly, he starts grinding his cock inside you again, and at this angle with him pressed as firmly against you as he can, you even get the sweet friction of your clit against his belly.

When you cum, YangYang keeps moving. He's still hard, and the way he starts rocking shallowly into you just feels so good that your eyes close and you roll your head back against the floor, pushing at YangYang's shoulders, your lips parting to let out some whines.

YangYang laughs, kissing down your chest as he pulls out of you. He kisses down to your belly before he rises onto his knees, and you look up at him, following the line of his body down to where his hand wraps around his cock, stroking himself while he looks down at your pussy, at his first load starting to leak out of you.

The second time he cums, it lands across your belly.

You shove YangYang away when he drops down over you again, rubbing his tip through the mess, smearing it even more across your belly. He topples onto his side with a laugh, and you refuse to admit how the sound makes your heart leap in your chest.

You smack at his arm, and that only makes him laugh harder.

He grabs your hand when you go for another smack, and then he's tugging, smoothly pulling you up over top of him so you're straddling his waist. His sticky cum starts to settle down your belly, dripping where it's still quite wet.

"If you keep fighting with me we'll never get out of here." YangYang reaches a hand out, slicking his fingers with his cum. "We're in time out until we like each other."

You gasp when YangYang drops his sticky fingers down to your clit, using his cum on his fingers as something like lube, not that you need it. Your cunt is still leaking his cum down against his abdomen. Your pussy throbs though at his touch, and it's not fair that your body has betrayed you so much.

This is YangYang, your enemy, the guy you've disliked since the very first time you met. He shouldn't be able to make you feel so good.

You lean forward, pushing your hands roughly down against his shoulders so he's pinned to the floor. But still his fingers massage your clit. The fine, warm pleasure tingles under your skin.

"I guess we'll be stuck in time out for a long time, then," you sigh. "Who knows how many orgasms it'll take before I'm dumb enough to actually like you."

YangYang grins, happy to take that challenge.

a/n: based on the request “what about yangyang and you mutually disliking each other (enemies) and one day bickering and fighting your brain decides it's a good idea to kiss him to shut him up, but pull back quickly then you're both like all shocked like what the fuck? and he just kisses you again ... and well, the rest is history.”

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

tagged by @redjayson! (tysm ahh)

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

this is so fun!!! i write a lot but am determined not to post anything major before i finish WINRN, so here's a glimpse into my wretched scrivener files with what's to come when that fic is finished ( ´ ▽ ` )

List of WIPs:

Touch Me, Midas (E)

shen jiu adopts an ugly cat / Ugly CatYuan AU

YQY and ZZLs Snadventures on Qiong Ding

SQH Burnout Fic

Liu Qingge vs the Alpharchy (pt 1)

Shang Qinghua Icey Presentation (pt 2)

Xie Lian Mud AU fic

LSZ Fixes Everything Scooby Gang Juniors

Yeah I'm From Nowhere Near

YQY and SQH De-Aged Fic

Shen Yuan Arrives Five Years Late With Starbucks

MoBing fic

A Secret I Keep Tucked Inside My Chest

transmigrator reveal bingqiu?

Taker, Devil Maker

how does your garden grow

pre-Youre Somebody Else transmigrator reveal

SY transmigrates into YQY fic

Wenzhou meet as teenagers ghost fixit fic

Shen Yuan gets two daemons

guy who writes 1/4 of a lot of fics ahahaha ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)" some of these have real titles and some have more content than others; this list is vaaaguely in order of most to least written

i have far more wips than people whos urls i know BUT. here are some beloved fellow writers ദ്ദി´▽`) @boomchickfanfiction @crimsonrainseekingflower @fallloverfic @stiltonbasket @0vergrownruins @lavender-and-rue @rourouxiaobao @quilleth @czeriah @mocheng-gusto @chaoticgoodlawyerwrites @scholomancefan @mysteryteacup @rarefiedmuddle and anyone else please consider this your invite if you want to share some as well!

[ggukiepie]

just a feeling

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you're busy doing president-y things (jungkook's words, not yours) and your best friend's there to help you out like he always does

tags: bil!couple, college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, two idiots in love, some fluff, oc is student council president so we stan, pet names

warnings: cursing, some mentions of skipping meals but nothing serious

wc: 1.8k

a/n: yes another one shot for this couple !! this can be read as a stand alone but i have other one shots you can read which you can find in my masterlist

--

You’re standing on your toes to make sure the banner you’re holding isn’t crooked. It’s probably not the safest to be on a ladder while tiptoeing and add the fact that the person down below holding the ladder isn’t really paying attention.

“Tae,” you call out without looking down. You squint your eyes at the banner, turning your head from side to side. Maybe you should’ve placed it higher? But then it might not be that noticeable so high up—

“Hm?” he replies, but his voice seems far off. Finally, you look down to see Taehyung holding the ladder with one hand, and in the other he’s typing on his phone.

You roll your eyes. “You’re not even paying attention,” you say exasperatedly. You’ve been up since 7 AM, running around school to make sure the preparations for the job fair are going smoothly. It’s almost 12 in the afternoon now and you haven’t had a single bite to eat. You just want this day to end. “Taehyung!”

He snaps his head up, eyes suddenly wide at the array of decorations and banners that are hung up. By the surprised look on his face, you’re positive he hasn’t been paying attention at all since you started. “Sorry,” he breathes out. “One company just came in late—”

“But they were supposed to arrive two hours ago!”

Taehyung widens his eyes in alarm. He’s known you for two years and has been working with you for one, so he pretty much knows the signs of your oncoming outbursts. “It’s fine.” He starts speaking again before you start shouting. You’re not mad at him, never have been, but you’re stressed and tired and hungry and you haven’t sat down in five hours. “Someone just has to assist them to their booth but everyone’s busy right now—”

“Just go.” You wave him off. You do not want things to be delayed even further and if it meant sacrificing your safety on the ladder, then so be it.

“Got it,” he says as he brings his phone to his ear, walking away without even glancing back at you. You sigh and turn back to the decorations. Yeah, the right side is definitely off. You huff and stretch out your arm hoping to get a hold of the right corner. It’s too far so you lean to the side to reach it. The ladder starts shaking but you don’t pay it any mind. You just need to finish this so you could go to the auditorium to check the stage design then—

“Hey! ___!”

You turn your head towards the voice just in time as you feel the ladder slam against the wall it’s leaning on, shaking every bone in your body. You look down suddenly and see Jungkook, whose got two hands holding the ladder tightly.

“What the fuck, ___,” he breathes out. “Why isn’t anyone holding the ladder? This is dangerous.”

You haven’t noticed your heart’s been racing. You hardly even noticed you were about to fall, but the look on Jungkook’s face says otherwise. “Sorry,” you whisper. You try to calm your racing heartbeat. “I just—” You breathe out. “I just needed to—”

“Come down,” he says, voice so quiet that you’re immediately complying, legs climbing down the ladder and Jungkook’s hand on your waist to guide you. Once you’re back on the ground again you turn to face him.

“Sorry,” you say, voice firmer now. “I just needed to get this done and Taehyung was the one helping but he needed to help set up a booth and—”

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook says as holds your hand in his and squeezes your fingers. Instantly, it calms you down. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

You look into his eyes and nod, feeling at ease now that he’s here. Jungkook just has that effect on you, really. Plus you’ve known him since high school so he really knows how to ease your nerves. You clench your eyes shut and focus on the feel of his skin on yours, his thumb rubbing the outside of your palm, his big hands encasing your small ones. You’ve been working on this project for months now. You have a team and the rest of the student council to help you, sure, but all the ideas and planning came from you. So it’s been stressing you out. Good thing Jungkook’s been there to help you if needed, always giving you food and snacks and reminding you to take a break every once in a while. You’re sure you wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for him.

“You okay now, ___? We can grab some lunch if you have the time,” Jungkook says quietly.

You open your eyes and smile at him sheepishly. He instantly glares at you (but it’s the cute kind, the one where he wants you to think he’s mad but he isn’t). A pout forms in his face and he lets go of your hands. You miss the warmth instantly.

“Let me guess, you haven’t eaten a single thing all day haven’t you?”

You nod your head and Jungkook groans, throwing his head back dramatically as if he’s been told he can’t play soccer anymore.

“You shouldn’t forget to eat, ___. Food is important,” he huffs. “And it makes you less grumpy.”

You roll your eyes at him and turn to walk back to the ladder again, but Jungkook grabs your hand to make you face him.

“How about this, I’ll hold the ladder while you finish that sign, then we go for lunch.”

A million different things suddenly enter your mind. You still need to check the booths, then the auditorium, and then the registration area. You open your mouth to protest but Jungkook raises both his hands to stop you.

“We’ll only eat for twenty minutes and then you can go back to doing your President-y things.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and Jungkook smiles, knowing you’re about to agree.

You point a finger at him. “Twenty minutes only. And you’re buying me coffee, too.”

He puts his hand on his chest and looks shocked, as if you’ve said the most offensive thing to him. “Baby,” he starts, and you know he’s saying it as a joke but it still makes your heart flutter. Makes that little seed of hope in you grow a little bit more. But you know Jungkook’s just a natural flirt and that he calls you that from time to time as a joke.

(At least that’s what you keep telling yourself)

He’s smiling so widely now, teeth on display with his dimples fully showing. He’s smirking a bit, too, and you can’t lie to yourself and say he doesn’t look absolutely dreamy right now. You know that look oh too well because it’s the one he uses when he’s flirting. With other girls.

“I buy you coffee all the time,” he says. “Whether you ask for it or not.”

And you know that’s true. Jungkook knows your love for coffee—and your favorite order at Starbucks—as much as he knows his favorite soccer players. He buys you coffee before he picks you up from class. He even buys you coffee when he randomly decides to drop by the student council office, which is partly given as a bribe to use the printer in there for free instead of paying for the printing services in campus.

You try to push him away but he only catches your hand to bring you a bit closer to him. Your bodies aren’t touching but you’re close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him.

Oh, you’re playing a very dangerous game, Jeon Jungkook.

You try to calm the beating in your heart and hope you aren’t blushing. Instead, you roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, you do. Now let me get this finished so we can eat.”

Jungkook holds the ladder while you finish decorating the banner, and from time to time he’d give his comments about the placement. You’re grateful for the help and finish ten minutes later. You’re pouting at him to return the ladder (which he does because he can never say no to you when you’re pouting) and finally you’re both making your way to the cafeteria.

True to his word, Jungkook makes sure you don’t take too long to eat. But he also makes sure you’re eating enough as well. He’s usually chatty when you’re eating together but he’s pretty silent now as you munch on your food. You’re distracted anyway, fingers busy typing on your phone as you’re responding to all the messages you haven’t checked yet. Jungkook’s used to this, of course, so he’s watching some anime highlights on his phone like he always does when you’re busy with President-y things (his words, not yours).

After eating he’s walking you to the auditorium, large coffee in your hand and a cookie in the other since he insisted you need to eat some more. Once you’re by the entrance, Jungkook suddenly stands in front of you, shoulders straight and feet together. “Good luck, Madam President.” He salutes and you roll your eyes in return.

“You’re honestly such a fucking dork.”

He smiles that bunny smile you adore. “You love me anyway,” he says and you choose not to reply. “Anyway, I’ll get going to class now. See you later at practice?” he asks.

He means his soccer practice and you nod your head quickly. You watch his practices most of the time anyway, but you think he just wants you there because you always have snacks for him and also so he can show off his tricks to you. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Now go before you’re late!”

“See you later, cutie.”

Again, it’s one of those pet names he calls you as a joke. You glare at him. “Seriously, Jeon, what’s with all the nicknames?” You might just throw the cookie at him to make sure he doesn't see you blushing.

He shrugs but he’s got that boyish smile on his face. Finally, he starts walking away. You watch his back for a bit but he suddenly turns around, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Because you look really cute today, cutie.”

You frown at yourself and look down at your outfit, eyeing the sweats and big shirt you’re wearing today for comfort. You’re pretty sure you’re sweating a lot and your hair’s a mess. You look up and shake your head to yourself while you make your way to the auditorium, wondering why in the world Jungkook would think you look cute today out of all days.

It doesn’t help slow down the beating in your heart, however, and you find yourself smiling the whole day.

[storiedhistories]

mysteriary asked: ❝  you don’t have to talk, we can just sit together.  ❞ // Ros for Brienne 💕

Brienne had sworn an oath to Lady Catelyn Stark, that she would serve her, and that included doing everything she could to protect her children. But after everything that had happened, both Sansa and Arya were beyond her reach, and though Ros was biologically one of the Stark children, she'd been raised alongside them, and Catelyn had asked her to look after her too.

They'd been travelling together for a little while now, and Brienne was starting to be more comfortable around the other woman, as a person, not simply as her protector.

So when Ros said that she didn't have to talk, that they could just sit together, Brienne very much appreciated her words. She wasn't trying to force anything out of the swordswoman; she was letting her speak up if she wanted to, at her own pace, something that very few people had allowed her to do. Because it wasn't that Brienne was stupid or didn't have anything to say; it just took her a while to be able to trust people.

"Thank you, my lady," Brienne murmured, offering Ros something of a smile, even as they sat close. "I do like talking with you; I just sometimes…..can't find the words." She was much better with a sword than she was with words, especially when she was around Ros. There was just something about her that made Brienne all tongue-tied, in a way that she'd never really been around anyone before.

It was likely just because she cared for the other woman, in the way that a bodyguard was supposed to care for her charge….., wasn't it?

[emilyshotchniss]

What, Are You Like In Love With Me Or Something?

Summary: After crushing on each other for years, you and Emily finally pull your shit together:)

Pairing : Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader

Warnings: Minimal swearing

Word Count : 1675

4:27am. Are you fucking kidding me.

You reluctantly rolled out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom, turning the shower on. You love your job, but getting called in at four in the morning was a fucking pain in the ass. After standing under the hot water for a considerable length of time, you got out and chose your outfit. Once you were ready, you repacked your go bag, and dropped your cat Willow off at your neighbours apartment, before heading to the office.

When you arrived, it was 5:02am, and you were pretty sure that in your current mood, if you didn't get some coffee soon, you were going to go full on unsub on someone. That mood was suddenly lifted as soon as you entered the bullpen - you ducked out of view and watched as your best friend Emily walked silently through the nearly empty office, and placed a mug of coffee on your desk. She gently sat it on your favourite coaster, then tiptoed back over to her desk, grabbing a small bag and sitting it next to the mug on your desk. She adjusted everything until it was the way she wanted it, and smiled to herself before sitting back at her desk. You also smiled to yourself, before walking in fully, pretending you didn't just spend three minutes hidden behind a wall watching her.

"Morning, Em!" You smiled.

"Oh hey!" She replied, clearly trying to act chill as if she hadn't just spent five minutes fixing you breakfast.

"What's this?" You asked, opening the small bag she left you.

"Oh, uh, I, I picked you up a croissant from the Starbucks downtown on my way in," She said, smiling sheepishly.

Your heart nearly burst, and you felt an overwhelming rush of butterflies in your stomach. The gesture was lovely, but wasn't helping you get over the huge crush you'd been harbouring for a while now. You pushed your feelings into a tiny little box in the back of your mind, because there was no way she felt the same - she was just being a good friend.

"Thank you," You smiled, before taking a bite of the croissant. "For this, and the coffee. Lunch is on me,"

She smiled back, but you couldn't help but notice how her eyes lingered a little longer than they were supposed to. Your "moment" was interrupted by Morgan and Garcia barging through the doors, shortly followed by JJ, Rossi and Reid, prompting Hotch to call you all into the conference room. You took a quick sip of your coffee and one last mouthful of your croissant, before following the team upstairs.

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

It was around 1:49pm when you walked back into the local PD, carrying two bags. You opened each door with your foot, and made your way to the conference room, finding Emily sitting alone with a file. The rest of the team were still away getting lunch.

"Hey, aren't you getting hungry?" You asked her.

"Uh, I'm fine, I'm nearly done with this-" She stopped rambling when she saw the bags of food. "You shouldn't have,"

"I told you, lunch was on me today. That coffee and croissant saved me from murdering someone this morning. I owe you," You said, earning a laugh from Emily. You felt a blush creep up your neck and across your cheeks, and you could've sworn you saw Emily's cheeks turn a faint pink - but it was probably nothing.

"What did you get?" She asked, as you continued to unpack.

"An italian BMT for the lady," You said, handing her her sandwich. "And a roast chicken sub for myself."

"Ugh, you're amazing," She said between mouthfuls.

You felt that same rush of heat in your cheeks again, and immediately got up to put the empty bags in the trash in a desperate attempt to hide your face.

"Seriously... thank you. I really needed this today..." She said, trailing off into a whisper almost. Her face had changed, and you could sense something was bothering her.

"Em, you okay?" You asked, concern lacing your tone.

"Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I'm good..." She lied.

"Don't lie to me. What's going on?" You said, matching your tone with hers.

"This doesn't leave this room-" She warned, your nerves making an appearance.

"This case- it, it's getting to me more than I care to admit..." She began shakily.

"In what way?" You asked.

"Regina- she said something to me, and it's kinda sticking with me," Emily said, taking a deep breath. You've known her long enough to know that that's her tell.

"She said that I have no idea what it's like when the monster from your nightmares comes back for you - that mine is dead, yet she still has to live with hers... it's stupid I know-" You cut her off.

"It's not stupid Emily. You went through a massive trauma, nobody expects you to magically be okay now that he's dead. You're still processing everything - that takes time, and we're all here to support you through it - I'm here to support you through it..." You told her, making sure she heard exactly what you were saying.

She let go of that breath, feeling a little calmer. "I have no idea what I'd do if you weren't my best friend..." She laughed nervously. Friend. That stung way more than it should've - but you put these feelings away in that little box at the back of your mind, attempting to compartmentalise it all.

"Seriously - thank you," She told you, grabbing your hand briefly, before getting up to put her napkins and stuff in the trash. Just at that, the rest of the team piled back into the station, ready to tie up the loose ends of the case before flying back that evening. You shook your head, laughing at your stupidity for falling for your best friend, before joining the rest of the team.

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

Back at Quantico, the team dragged themselves into the office to finish reports and grab their stuff before heading home for the night. Before you knew it, you looked up from your desk to find that most of the team had left, you Emily and Hotch being the only three remaining. You checked your watch, and decided that the reports could be finished in the morning. Throwing on your coat, you turned to look at Emily, still working away.

"Hey Em, we can finish those tomorrow, come on," You told her. She looked up at you anxiously, before reluctantly closing the file and grabbing her things. You both walked in silence to the elevator, but you could feel her eyes burning into your skull as you waited. After the silence had become just a little too uncomfortable, you turned to meet her, as she quickly diverted her gaze.

"What..." You asked with a smile.

"No, nothing- its nothing." She replied.

"You were staring at me- what, are you like in love with me or something?" You joked, not thinking anything of it - then your stomach suddenly dropped as her face turned a deep red - it was clear you'd correctly guessed her thoughts.

"Em-" You said, barely above a whisper. "Is that true?"

"I- uh- I um..." She began, her face turning a deeper red with each stutter.

"Emily look at me-" You told her, grabbing her wrists. She met your gaze, her eyes glassy.

"I love you too... I always have," You trembled, a single tear rolling down her face now.

"You have?" She cried ever so softly, her vulnerability catching you by surprise.

"Always... I- I never knew it was mutual," You smiled.

"I- I was going to tell you, but-"

"But then everything went to shit," You said, finishing her sentence.

"Yeah," She chuckled, sniffing back tears.

The elevator doors slid open and you squeezed in, taking her hand in yours as they closed behind you.

"Have you been sleeping?" You asked, not turning to face her, already knowing the answer.

"No..." She replied, barely loud enough to her - she was ashamed of being traumatised. You squeezed her hand tighter, before turning to face her.

"Come stay at my place tonight- we'll watch a movie, have hot chocolate, and maybe then you might be able to rest." You offered.

"Okay.." She smiled. "Thank you."

"Not necessary." You told her, interlacing your fingers with hers.

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

As soon as you got home, you kicked off your shoes and headed straight to your bedroom, grabbing clothes for both yourself and Emily. After you both got comfy, you made two rather large mugs of hot chocolate, finishing them quicker than either of you would care to admit.

"Hey it's late, you coming?" You asked Emily, nodding towards your bedroom.

"Sure," She smiled, letting you lead the way. You pulled back the covers, letting Em slide in first as you followed. Lying in the darkness, your arms wrapped around her body, pulling her closer to you. As she met your eyes, no words had to be spoken- you leaned in to give her a gentle kiss that said everything you wanted to say, her returning it with equal passion. She stroked your cheekbone with her thumb, before speaking up.

"I love you - I wish I'd told you sooner." She whispered.

"I do too - but we're here now - that's all that matters." You replied.

She hummed in response, before tucking her head into your shoulder. You drew tiny shapes on her back until you heard soft snores coming from underneath your ear. It was in that moment that you realised you'd never felt love like this before - a love that consumed you. You kissed her forehead before succumbing to the slumber along with her, wondering just how you got so lucky.

[wantonlywindswept]

holy shit i didn’t know there was a DH2 live action trailer

i mean it’s kind of cheesy but still

[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!”