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deathbecomesthem · 5 months

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Roomies 7

Final Chapter | ~4.2K

A/N: This story has come to an end. I hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings: Lots of feelings, smut, a bit of talk of vomit. I wrote this, and I'm publishing it. As with the rest of this story, I chose not to spend a lot of time dwelling on the details.

---

You don’t think about Eddie. No, you don’t do that. You don’t think about what he thinks when he reads the note you left for him. You don’t think about the anger, the sadness, the confusion he must be feeling. You don’t know what he’s feeling. How could you, when you’ve hidden yourself from Eddie’s feelings since you became his unexpected roommate.

You’re a selfish person. You can admit that now that you’re not face to face with him, not listening to his sleepy snores through the too thin walls of your shared apartment. Not pressing your nose into the throw pillow on the couch trying to catch the ghost of his scent when he’s not home. Sitting on the couch in your sister’s townhouse across town from your own apartment, you feel it happening. You’re putting distance between you and Eddie. Brick by brick, you are expanding the road that sits between the two of you, and soon you’ll not even be able to cross it. Too much space. That’s fine, you’ve decided, because the only way out of this is with that distance, and maybe in the end you’ll find a way to salvage what might be left of the friendship that will always connect you.

“Oh, is that what we’re doing again today?” Jamie is making her way from her kitchen through the living room. It’s Friday, she has work this morning.

“Doing what?” You ask her, running your hand down your face and bracing yourself for impact. You can already feel the welcome has worn thin, and it’s only been 2 days since you showed up with an overnight bag asking for sanctuary.

“Moping. Sitting in your sweatpants and moping.” Jamie looks at you with her typical disapproving older sister expression. “Nobody died, you know. You’re being so dramatic. Just go talk to Eddie.”

“I can’t talk to him right now. It might ruin everything. I can’t lose him as a friend.” You tell her. This is the same thing you’ve been telling her since you walked through her front door. Instead of the sympathetic look she gave you on that first night, this time she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, because everything seems so great right now. I hate to have to be the one to tell you this,” you know she does not in fact hate to be the one to tell you whatever it is she’s going to say next, “but the damage is done. You can’t rewind the clock. Take a shower, get your shit together, and get the fuck outta my house. I love you.”

Jamie strides back over to you and gives you a kiss on the forehead before turning and sprinting back towards her front door. With a bang of the door, she’s gone. You know she’s right, and the time away from Eddie has done nothing but make you more miserable than ever. You take the shower. You pack your bag. You put on jeans and your favorite sweater of Jamie’s, a small revenge that will take her months to realize. You go home to face whatever is left of your friendship with Eddie, and pray to the gods devils that he will accept what you’ve decided.

Friday. You promised him you’d be home. Time to face the music. Time to tell him that you’re sorry, and that you’re moving out.

—

Eddie’s been fine. After that first night, when he went down to the bar and drank until he puked in the sink of the men’s room, he had an epiphany. It was simple really. While the whiskey rose in his throat, the lightbulb went off. He wasn’t the first person to come to big decisions in that bathroom, he was just the most recent. Only two months prior, Lenny Hendricks had done a line of the sick that is now covered in Jack Daniel’s scented bile, and decided he was going to go to medical school. Maybe it’s something about the poetry scratched on the walls. As Eddie cleans his mess, he sees a fresh scrawl next to the mirror - Just start the set on time. She’s not coming.

Eddie had walked out of the bar that evening with a sense of purpose, regardless of the sour smell of his favorite Metallica tee. He walked up the steps to his apartment and went to bed knowing that it was all going to be ok. Everything would be right soon enough, because it had to be. How could it not be? He’s been so stupid. No more, though.

—

It’s heavy and weighing you down as you look up the stairwell to the dimly lit hallway. Someone, probably Eddie but you don’t know for sure, replaced the light with a red bulb sometime before you moved in. It suits your mood right now, the uneasy red tinted shadows trailing behind you as you ascend the stairs, the dread in your guts making your movements slower than normal.

You stand at the door and look at it. Do you knock? Do you use your key? Do you turn tail and go back the way you came, and check into the Super 8 Motel down the road until you can find your own shitty studio apartment that doesn’t make you wonder who you are and what the fuck you’re doing every time you step foot through the door? You try the knob and find it turns easily under your grip. So, you sigh and walk in.

Eddie is in the kitchen, back to the door. He’s wearing your apron, hands deep in a sinkful of soapy water. He looks back and smiles easily when he sees you with your duffel bag still hanging off your shoulder. This is not the way this scene played out in your head. The counters are clean, bottles of beer and cans of soda all sitting in the plastic bin underneath the side table next to the refrigerator. Is that -

“- did you bake bread?” you question, dropping your bag and heading to the rack sitting on the counter with a round loaf sitting prettily.

“Uh huh,” Eddie’s wiping his hands on a floral dish towel he has hanging from where the apron strings are tied together around his waist. “Smells good, don’t it?”

“Did you clean?” Another question that doesn’t need an answer, the proof is in front of your eyes.

“Don’t act so surprised. Who do you think took care of this place before you moved in? Gareth?” Eddie shudders at the thought.

You nod, not in understanding, because you don’t, but you nod because you accept what your eyes are seeing. Eddie’s fine. The place is fine. He didn’t burn it to the ground when you walked out of the door. You didn’t find him curled up in a ball on his bed. He didn’t punch a hole through the cupboard next to the sink when he found your note.

Eddie’s fine. So you nod, and make your way down the hallway to your bedroom, leaving Eddie in the kitchen. Your room, at least, is exactly how you left it. Bed unmade and drawers left open. A testament to the speed run you made out of this place. You shake your head, how stupid you’ve been. Eddie’s fine. This is all in your head, and there’s nothing else to it.

You startle at the quiet rapping of knuckles on your door. From the other side, Eddie says, “I made Wayne’s famous chili earlier. Want that for dinner, or wanna go out and get something?”

Wayne’s chili is your favorite. It’s the grape jelly he adds to it. You asked him so many times over the years for the recipe, but he wouldn’t budge. He won a cook off the year after you and Eddie graduated from high school, and that was when you discovered the secret. He didn’t know you were standing in the doorway of the kitchen trailer that morning, watching him take a jar of Welch’s grape jelly from the cupboard and unceremoniously dump it into the crock pot he had set up in the corner. He let the meat and jelly cook down before he added a couple of handfuls of diced jalapenos and a mixture of dried herbs.

“You got any Jiffy?” You asked him, leaning your head on the wall next to the door imagining it’s Eddie’s shoulder. You brush the door with the tips of your fingers and wait for his answer.

“Of course. Who do you think you’re talkin’ to?”

You’re talking to Eddie, and he would never forget the cornbread.

—

You re-enter the kitchen to find the table already set, cornbread still steaming in the cast iron pan on the stovetop. The crock pot full of chili, a twin to Wayne’s own crock pot, sits in the center of the small table. Cheese, sour cream, and Cholula are laid out along with the bowls and spoons.

“Wow, Munson. You know how to make a girl feel special.” You head over to the cornbread intending to pinch a taste of it, but Eddie slaps your hand away. “Ow. I take it back, you’re a tyrant.”

“Sit down, please. I’ll get your cornbread, don’t fuck with it.” Eddie has a potholder and takes the hot skillet over to join the rest of the food on the table. “Let’s eat, Baby.”

Baby, baby, baby, baby. The word plays over and over in your head while you float to the table. Baby.

Eddie puts a piece of cornbread in your bowl, and ladles chili on top of it. The way you like it. Baby. You watch his face, and he gives you an easy smile. Another one, like the smile he gave you when you walked in the front door. You suddenly feel like the ground is not as firm as you imagined it. Baby.

“How’s Jamie? She still got that stick firmly up her ass?” Eddie asks as he sits down across from you. You laugh, snorting a bit of chili upwards into your sinuses. You cough and take a drink of the lemonade he has set next to your bowl.

“She’s same as always. She practically threw me out this morning. She sends her love.” You reach for the hot sauce and splash some into your bowl. It’s good, but you think it lacks the heat of Wayne’s normal recipe.

“I’m happy you came home to me.” Eddie’s words come out easily, and you’re left yet again feeling like the floors are tilting a little.

You say nothing, just look at him with your spoon held in front of your face. Frozen, a deer in the headlights that are Eddie’s chocolatey eyes sparkling at you. You’re starting to wonder if you missed a very important conversation somewhere along the way.

“You know, I realized something important when you left. That first night was… not great, but I think it was a good thing. We’ve been dancing around each other for a while now, and having you not in the apartment got me thinking about a lot of things.” Eddie’s talking, seemingly unaffected by your stunned silence. He just keeps on going, looking at you straight in the eyes with that small smile on his face.

“I was thinking about how much it hurt to think of you not being in this apartment with me. Which is crazy, right? It’s not like you moved in here with some kind of long term plan to stay. We both knew it was the right thing for right now. So, why was I crying when I found your note?” Eddie takes a big bite of chili and looks to you in anticipation. He wants an answer, you realize.

“I don’t know, Ed. Why were you crying?” You ask him and place your spoon back into the bowl. Your hand moves instinctively to stroke the back of the hand he has resting on the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Because, Baby, I’m in love with you.” Eddie’s voice is firm. His words are spoken honestly, leaving no room for you to doubt them. You want to run, to stand up and bolt for the door. Eddie’s eyes hold you in your seat. Even as the floor beneath you feels ready to open up and swallow you whole, his gaze is steady.

“Eddie,” his name is a whisper, the breath from your lungs. You had thought that night with sighs of pleasure bleeding through the wall that separated the two of you was the point of no return. You were wrong. That point is right here in front of you. It’s sitting between you, Eddie, and the chili pot in your shared apartment. “What if it goes wrong?”

“What if I get hit by a car tomorrow? What if a tornado runs through town and takes me away? What if the sun explodes and burns us all up?” At some point, Eddie turned his hand over to hold your own. “I know you, and you know me. I’m telling you right now, I am in love with you. I want you to stay here, and I want you to bring your shit into my bedroom and make it ours. And if you tell me you don’t want that, ok. Fine. But the damage is already done, Baby. I can’t go back to not feeling like this, and I’m done lying to myself about it. You do what you gotta do, but don’t tell me you’re not feeling something. I know you.”

Eddie gets up without any preamble and begins to fill the sink with sudsy water, leaving you sitting stunned at the table with a bowl of chili that is now room temperature. You push it away from you and begin picking at the edge of the cornbread that’s left in the pan still at the table. And then you hear Eddie whistling quietly while he cleans up. A new feeling begins to creep inside of you, a familiar feeling. You’re annoyed with him.

“So, you think you can just decide that this is how it is, huh? That I’ll come home, you’ll pour your heart out, and I’ll do the same. And - what? Happily ever after, until you decide you’re bored with me? Because I fucking know you too, Eddie Munson.” Annoyance built to anger with every word that you spoke. You stood, grabbing your bowl of cold chili and head over to scrape it out into the garbage. Eddie’s whistling stopped.

You drop the bowl into the water, pushing Eddie out of the way of the sink with your shoulder. You turn to head back to the table to start putting away all the dinner fix ins, but stop dead in your tracks when a wide palm grabs your forearm. He pulls you close so that you have to look up to see him. He places both hands on your face, moving hair that’s fallen over your eyes so he can see you better.

“You don’t understand, so let me be very fucking clear,” his words are a whisper, his warm breath fanning over your face, “I have been in love with you for a very long time, Baby. I just didn’t know that’s what it was. But I know now, and this is it. I can’t make you believe me, and I can’t make you love me back. I just need you to understand, this is not just a fleeting thing.”

You reach up and push the curls away from his face to see him better. Bare faces staring at each other, the truth of this thing holding you in your places. You bring your hand to the back of his neck and tangle your fingers into his hair. You form a fist and squeeze tight. His mouth opens at the feeling, and you stare at him.

“When? When did you start loving me, Munson?” You hold his hair a little tighter. His eyes open again, pupils blown out by your touch and your words.

“Remember that summer when you bought that red bikini?” He asks. You see his cheeks are turning red, and with this close proximity of bodies, you can feel a bulge growing in his pants. You stand up higher on the balls of your feet.

“You’re a pervert, Eddie.” There’s no bite in your words. You turn your face just as he leans down to bring his mouth closer to yours and whisper in his ear, “I bought that bikini because I wanted you to notice me. The way you noticed those girls with the mini skirts and bad perms that hung out at the bar when you played your shows.”

You kiss the skin of his neck and are rewarded with a whimper from Eddie. His hands are gripping your waist, hard enough to leave a mark. You kiss his jaw and move down his neck stopping along the way to press your nose against his skin and breathe him in. You can feel him swallow against your lips. He loves me. You think that maybe you can try to believe it.

“Look at me.” His words vibrate against your nose as it runs along his adam’s apple. You look at him, desperately wanting the kiss you know he’s going to give you. Aching for it. He tells you, “I am so in love with you.”

Eddie tastes like chili, lemonade, and cornbread. Not at all unpleasant to your senses. Kissing Eddie is unlike kissing anyone else. The secret place inside of you that’s been hidden for so long has his light shining on it. His tongue dances against your lips, and you meet it with your own. A slow waltz, mouths moving together, noses brushing noses. Your faces are pressing together, trying to absorb as much of this moment as you can before you have to break apart. And then it’s heavy breathing, his sweaty fringe against your forehead.

“Fuck, do you feel that?” You don’t answer his question with words, but with your hands reaching under his shirt to feel his skin under your fingertips. “Baby, please.”

“Eddie,” his ears perk up like a dog’s at the sound of his name. The way it comes out like a whine. It’s that needy way you said his name on that movie night, and it grips him somewhere deep in his belly.

Eddie drops to his knees on the kitchen floor, head resting against the fly of your jeans. He’s nuzzling you, in an animal way, fingers gripped at the waist of your pants. He can smell you through denim and cotton. It’s not enough. He makes quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping, of peeling back the skin of the fruit his mouth is watering to taste. Your bare ass is pushed against the counter before you realize your pants have been completely removed, and he hooks a leg over his shoulder.

Eddie’s bulbous nose is fully breathing in your scent from the damp cotton of your panties. His nose is brushing against that hard button, and he’s smelling the way the blood is rushing to it. A coppery musk just for him. His finger pushes the cotton to the side so he can finally taste and feel you against him, and his whining mouth sends a rumble of pleasure through you. It’s like this, with his knees on the tile floor of your shared kitchen that he finally, finally, finds himself able to openly praise you until you’re shaking in rapture. The veneration of your body by this devotee is as genuine and beautiful as any congregant in any church the world over.

—

The food is still on the kitchen table, too far gone to save, but neither of you can care. The moonlight casts shadows around the otherwise dark room, it highlights the way your bodies move together. Joining, embracing, loving, and resting. And then it starts again. The moments your bodies are connected feel eternal, and as soon as you separate you feel an inexplicable grief. What is this, is something you have not voiced wonder in your mind.

No other man has made you weep this way. At the sight of the tears streaming down your face, Eddie’s cock buried deep inside of you, he did not wipe them away. He let his tongue taste it, running the firm tip up your cheek and under your eyelid. The feeling unravels that knot in your gut, and not for the first or second time tonight. And just like the other times, Eddie rocks himself with the wave of your orgasm, whispering into your ear, I love you, I love you, I love you.

It’s 4:30 in the morning when your bodies finally force a halt to your incessant love making, but your mind is wide awake. Eddie’s sweaty head rests on your breast, an arm lays heavy over your belly. You think he may be sleeping, but you need to quiet the thoughts that have started to invade your brain.

“Ed,” you shake his shoulder a little and he moans, “how do you know you love me?”

You feel a twinge of embarrassment at the question, but you need to hear his answer. Somehow, despite it being Eddie, you don’t know if you can trust it. What is love? It’s something you’ve learned you can’t trust. You try to not think of Drew, and fail. But it’s not just him, that most recent mistake - the list goes on and on. What is love, but a promise of future disappointment.

“I just know.” His breath fans out across your chest, and your nipple peaks at the feeling. Traitor.

“Well, did you just know every other time you loved someone? What happens if it’s like when you were with Naomi? Or Sandy?” You know it’s wrong to say these names in this sacred space, but the question needs to be answered. There’s a small spot that itches inside of you that threatens to grow. A spot, that if left to grow, will force you up and out the door. You know it, and you know Eddie knows it, too.

Eddie’s face peels from your skin so he can look to you. He runs a finger along the shadows of the lines of worry creasing your brow. It’s so tender, so loving. You feel a tear leak from your eye, unbidden.

“I don’t think I loved them,” Eddie says while his thumb rubs away the moisture on your cheek, “or maybe I did. I don’t know, I can’t remember. But, Baby, I’ve never felt this before. This is - this is it.”

“What does that mean, Eddie? This is it? Like, what, you wanna run down to the courthouse and get married? Want me to pop out a whole litter of mini-Munsons? What does ‘this is it’ mean?” Your voice is rising in frustration, but Eddie doesn’t turn away. He keeps his gaze steady on your face. He’s looking for something there.

“Baby, you don’t have to feel any particular way right now. You know that right? I’m not asking for anything. I just want you to know how I feel. I love you, and I’ve loved you for a long time. Long enough that those other girls never got the whole of me when I was with them. I’m not telling you this so you’ll make me any promises. I’m just telling you because I fucking love you, and I need you to know it.”

And that’s when you realize it, something that scares the shit out of you. Because love, that overwhelming thing that beats inside of you when you look at Eddie, does not come with a guarantee. It does not promise anything more than what can be felt between the two of you. Love is pain, because nothing lasts forever. You know it now, and it’s a relief. The wrinkles at your temple smooth out, and you run your fingers through his tangled hair. You love this man, and that’s a fact.

“Ok, I believe you. I just have one more very important question.” Eddie’s face relaxes under the touch of your fingers along the side of his pretty nose.

“Ask.” He says, kissing your palm.

You hold his face still, gazing deeply into his eyes. Black pools in the dark room that threaten to swallow you up. “Eddie, would you still love me if I was a worm?”

The tension in the moment is gone, and Eddie giggles like the boy you knew years ago. He pulls you down and kisses you hard on the mouth, pressing his body into yours. Warm, sticky flesh vibrating with bubbling laughter.

“If you were a worm? I’d set up a little enclosure for you,” he points to a spot under the window where the moon hangs low in the sky, “just there. I’d get you some really tasty dirt, and I’d write songs about the worm that is the love of my life.”

Your smile is a beacon in the night, Eddie can see you glowing. You kiss his forehead and tell him, “I love you, Eddie Munson.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #asks #eddie munson angst #roomies

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pink-tk-a-latte · 3 months

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Day in the Life of the Nakajima Household

Aka Atsushi’s tiny dorm at the ADA that he is forced to share with 3 murderous individuals.

Tickle fic!! Lee!Atsushi, Lers!Lucy, Kyouka, and Akutagawa + a little Ler!Atsushi, Lee!Lucy (romantic Akuatsulucy and platonic Kyouka addition)

It’s the orphan poly + fellow orphan Kyouka!!!! ❤️🤍🖤💙 I wrote this a while ago so it’s all in present tense LOL. When I first had the idea, I was hesitant, but then I started actually watching the BSD anime and got to know all their characters better so here it is!! They make me SO EMOTIONAL

Also bonus mini HCs at the end!!!!!!!!!

(Ignore the cringey ahh emoticons LMAO it’s just that all of them are so creature-coded)

ᓚᘏᗢ ♡ ≽^•⩊•^≼ ♡ ૮(˶• ༝ •˶)ა ♡ /ᐠ •̀ ˕ •́ マ ♡ ՞ↀ - ↀ՞

Atsushi’s dorm at the Agency is certainly not made to house four people. It’s hardly big enough for two. Kunikida looks one noise complaint away from bursting a vein in his forehead, but, well, nothing has ever gone to plan as long as Atsushi’s involved.

Despite their statuses as Port Mafia operative and former Guild disciple, Lucy and Akutagawa come over so often that Atsushi’s colleagues hardly bat an eye. The two have even taken to calling it “their place,” which Atsushi thinks is kinda unfair — both for his living situation and his heart.

It’s a peaceful kind of day today. Kyouka’s inside journaling, Aku’s at the store — because he has the most stable paycheck — getting groceries, and Atsushi and Lucy are outside, watering the plants around the building.

“Someday you should get us a garden,” Lucy says while she sprinkles water over the tiny blossoming daisies. “So we can take care of our own plants instead of these ugly trees.”

Atsushi sends her a playful glare from where he’s watering said trees with a hose, smiling. “Do I have to do everything in this relationship? My pockets are crying thanks to you guys.”

Lucy scoffs. “Shut up, you! I give you discounts at the cafe all the time. I put my life on the line for you.” She tosses her hair and places a hand on her chest, and Atsushi holds back a laugh.

Maybe it’s his apprenticeship under Dazai, but Atsushi feels a bit mischievous today. In a move that he’ll probably regret later, he lifts the hose and rains fire over his life partner.

Gasping and spluttering, Lucy throws up her hands to block the spray. Her sundress soaks through and her braids quickly start to droop. She turns a murderous gaze on Atsushi through dark, sticky bangs, and he feels sweat run down his back.

“Atsushi Nakajima, you’re dead!” He spots a certain intensity in Lucy’s turquoise eyes.

Uh oh. He knows what that means.

Atsushi yelps and drops the hose, not even bothering to switch it off before he sprints. He employs his tiger strength, probably cheating, but Lucy could easily drag him away from reality and into Anne’s Room if she wants. Noticeably, she doesn’t, probably to drag out the anticipation. But she will have him. Atsushi is sure.

He races into the building and up the stairs. He doesn’t trust the elevator, but he has hope of escape if he continues on foot. In a blur, he spots his apartment number and pushes through the door, thankfully unlocked. Atsushi lunges for the closet, throws open the door and slams it shut behind him. He’s been on so many stealth missions; Atsushi knows how to be quiet. But he’s giddy from the chase and can barely restrain the frantic giggling he breathes out.

“Where are you, my cute little kitty? Come out, let’s play~!” He hears with his heightened senses. A shiver runs up his spine even while his face feels like an oven. He needs to remember that Lucy worked for the Guild, and their first meeting was a gamble for his and his coworkers’ lives. “Isn’t this a fun game! But you can’t hide forever.”

He really can’t, because there’s only so many places he can hide in his tiny apartment. He wonders what his chances are of getting out the closet and jumping through the window without Lucy noticing.

Just as he thinks this, though, the door flies open.

“Found you!” A grin full of metal shines through the darkness, and Atsushi screams. He tries to leap past her, but the wind is knocked out of his lungs as she tackles him onto his futon. Where did she get this strength from? Yet he doesn’t match her force with his own, mostly because, now that he’s caught, he’s found he doesn’t want to be free.

“Such a bad kitty,” she pulls him onto her lap with her elbows under his arms, and Atsushi feels her wet clothes press against his back. His ears are already pounding, hot. “I’ll show you what happens when you go up against Lucy Maud Montgomery!”

Suddenly there are fingers pressing into his sides. Atsushi yells out a panicked laugh. “A- Ahahaha! Luhuhucyhehehe I’m sorryhehehe!”

She huffs. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before you drenched me!”

This is just the consequences of his actions, isn’t it? Her nails tease under his shirt and he throws his head back. “Stahahahap! Stop Ihi yeheheheild! Lucyehehehe!”

She toes the line between unbearable and gentle. The feeling runs through Atsushi’s every nerve, frying his brain until he can’t do anything but kick and flail around on his sheets. Lucy holds him firmly, a satisfied smile on her face that he can’t see.

She is doing this for revenge, but gosh is Atsushi cute. His cheeks are full and red, his fangs peeking out from under his lip. His giggles are nervous and flighty but ingenuous, the purest kind of happiness. Warmth runs through her face without permission; she really wishes she didn’t have such an embarrassing ailment.

When Lucy digs her fingers into his ribs and Atsushi squeals loud enough to echo off the walls, Kyouka pokes her head in from the other room.

“Oh, are we getting Atsushi?” she asks with a small blink. Lucy grins and Atsushi pleads.

“Ky- Kyouka plehehease! Hehehelp! I’m gonnahahaha dahahahie!”

“We are indeed, Kyouka! And he deserves it. I’m sure he would love if you assisted me.”

Kyouka’s expression doesn’t change, but her eyes twinkle. She strides over and seats herself on top of Atsushi’s legs. He cracks open his eyes to give his little sister a look of betrayal.

“Kyouka! Youhaha’re supposed to help mehehehe!”

“No thanks,” she says blankly, before drilling into his hips with an assassin’s precision.

“KYOUHOHOKAHAHAHA!” Even Lucy is a little terrified by the focus in Kyouka’s eyes, as if she were performing a surgery. But mostly she’s just pleased. She takes her hands off Atsushi’s ribs to clap, then repositions them in his underarms.

“YOUHOUHAHA GUHUhuys are soho MEHEHEHEAN!”

“This is discipline,” Kyouka states very seriously, and Lucy too laughs at that. Kyouka reaches forward and pokes Atsushi’s cheek. “You’re so squishy. Like a bunny. Squish.”

Atsushi turns pink; Lucy really wishes that didn’t make her flustered. “He is, isn’t he?” She pokes his other cheek. “Just as a tabby cat should be.”

Then Lucy worms her fingers into his neck and he scrunches up. “EHEHEHEE nohohoHO!”

While Lucy’s methods are soft in an evil way, Kyouka attacks with honed, concentrated energy, deadly in her efficiency. And with both of them on opposite ends of his body, Atsushi has no room left for thought.

And then the front door shuts with a bang.

Perhaps Akutagawa is too aggressive with his actions, and he squints apologetically at the door he slammed. Setting down the grocery bags on the counter, he winces at the ruckus in the apartment. Is that the Jinko’s screaming?

He walks into the main room to find what he’d expected to see: Atsushi pinned to the floor with Kyouka and Lucy dissecting him.

“This is just like you, Jinko,” he scoffs with a note of fondness, squatting beside the squirming, laughing Atsushi. “You’re not even fighting back.”

“RYUHUHAHA dohohon’t!” Atsushi shakes his head, his face a deep pink and his eyes crinkled shut. His smile is just as blinding as the light of the sun. Gross, Akutagawa thinks with a mini smile.

“Akutagawa.” Kyouka turns to him with that river-like gaze, clear but acute. “Join us.” Lucy cackles.

He smirks. “If that is what I must do.”

Though she calls out to Ryuunosuke now, Kyouka hasn’t forgotten how his words kept dragging her down as she swam desperately toward the light. But then he said he was proud of her. Plus, well, he’s involved with Atsushi. Kyouka’s grown to trust him, at least as long as Atsushi’s around. The same goes for Lucy, who Kyouka resented at first for endangering Atsushi, and for her harsh personality that pushes everyone away. That was before though, before she learned that Lucy is genuinely kind, only a girl at heart, and she’s really fun to talk to, and hug, and go shopping for plushies and clothes and crêpes with.

Kyouka would defend Atsushi’s happiness with the blade of a katana and the might of a demon. Because he’s the one who saved her, because he’s her older brother. He has a way of bringing out the light in those with the blackest of blood. Though he’s made many enemies, he has twice as many friends, Lucy and Aku included. She’s never been more sure that they care for Atsushi than now, engaging in something so purely affectionate. That’s why Kyouka pitches in, because her heart is full to the limit.

Speaking of which, Atsushi seems to be reaching his limit.

“RYUHAHAHAHA! LUHUCYEHEAHAHAE! KYOUHAHAKAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Akutagawa is rough and awkward as he claws at the center of Atsushi’s abdomen. Even Rashoumon is crawling up and down his sides. Still sitting on his legs, Kyouka is moments away from flying off, and it’s only through sheer determination that she remains in place. Lucy has slowed her assault out of pity (because she is soft for this man and terrible at hiding it), slowly dragging her fingers across Atsushi’s jaw. Kyouka copies her: Akutagawa really is ruthless. Atsushi’s floundering and screaming is amusing though, and she can’t hold back the soft giggles escaping from her own chest. Though his laughter is desperate and embarrassed, it’s also bright and overwhelmed with love.

“You should learn to take this, weretiger. If you wish to help people, endurance and inspiration of the soul are necessary skills to have.”

Which is basically fancy talk for: Your joy could cure the world’s suffering and you should show it more often.

“LIHIHIHIKE you wouhAHALD KNOHOHOW! AHAHAHA wahahaHAIT!”

“How foolish of you to sass me in your position.”

Atsushi’s chest barely gets the chance to rise and fall before another laugh is forced out. He probably needs a breather. Lucy, despite being the one to start this, is also the first to end it.

“Now now, Aku. Give him a break. We were at this for a while before you came.”

Akutagawa hums, but he retracts his hand and his ability. Lucy and Kyouka let up, and Kyouka removes herself from Atsushi’s legs. Finally free, Atsushi collapses into Lucy’s lap with an inhale that could rival a tornado. He tries to regulate his breathing with giggles interrupting, and he buries his face against Lucy’s thigh, turning to his original assailant for comfort. Lucy blushes even redder than Atsushi himself had because his tiny exhausted closed-eye smile is the cutest thing she’s ever seen, but settles her hand on his back for a massage.

“You hahall… ahawful,” he titters. “Lucy, I’m sohorry for hosing you.”

Kyouka appears beside Lucy and pats Atsushi’s head. Lucy sighs as if she’d just been hit with the force of all the love in the world. “I suppose I can forgive you. I’m a little less soaked now, thanks for asking.”

“Sorry, sorry.” His chuckles turn to sleepy mumbles. “That’s good, though. I’m glad.”

“Quit apologizing.” Lucy covers her face with her equally red hair and turns away. “You’re such a sap.”

“Far too soft,” Akutagawa adds, leaning down to press a kiss to Atsushi’s upright cheek. Kyouka moves her hand so Lucy can kiss the cat’s head too, instead throwing her legs over him and leaning on Lucy’s shoulder. Akutagawa is a clumsy distance from the cuddle pile, hunched over Atsushi, so the tiger throws an arm around his other life partner’s shoulders and drags him down to rest on his back, maneuvering himself so he’s on his stomach, chin on Lucy’s lap. She runs her fingers through choppy white hair and shifts one leg to lay on Akutagawa’s arm and establish a point of contact with everyone. She laughs quietly as she looks over their entangled position, like some kind of Tetris puzzle.

And then she starts laughing for a very different reason.

“ATSUSHIHIHEHEHEE!”

Kyouka flinches as Lucy’s shoulder jolts her off and blinks rapidly. Then she catches sight of Lucy’s hysterical expression and wide open mouth, someone’s fingers scribbling up her sides, and understands. Screeching, Lucy kicks and shoves at the boy in her lap, the culprit, and realizes that with all the bodies piled on top of her, there is no escape.

Atsushi, the ever perseverant hero he is, grins up at her with teeth white as an angel but pointy as a beast. “Revenge.”

And this is what happens when you go up against Nakajima Atsushi.

ᓚᘏᗢ ♡ ≽^•⩊•^≼ ♡ ૮(˶• ༝ •˶)ა ♡ /ᐠ •̀ ˕ •́ マ ♡ ՞ↀ - ↀ՞

Ryu may have the most money but he has near-zero social capabilities. They all lack people skills actually, but Aku lost the last video game tournament. So he’s doing the grocery shopping.

Also they love each other <3

I don’t know why I got so emotional with Kyouka’s POV but it’s probably because I adore her to the ends of the earth. Two paragraphs of just Kyouka reflection bc I think she’s the type to start daydreaming in the middle of an attack.

Relationship HCs:

Atsushi and Lucy — like lonely little children in love, so desperately it hurts

Atsushi and Akutagawa — It’s Complicated™️ (it isn’t)

Akutagawa and Kyouka — it is actually complicated, but they’re getting there

Kyouka and Atsushi — the purest form of connection, siblings <3

Kyouka and Lucy — sisters who give each other the freedom to just be girls

Lucy and Akutagawa — from strangers to not so much so, united by their love for one special tiger (they’re still getting used to each other)

This is a long-ahh footnote I’m sorry

#py is turning pink #tickle #tickle fic #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd tickle #akuatsulucy #atsulucy #shin soukoku #lee!atsushi #ler!lucy #ler!akutagawa #ler!kyouka

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senkusphone · 5 months

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Dr. Stone chapter 3D trivia post

Hello, um. I hope yall had a pleasant solstice celebration of your choice- I've been pondering whether what we just saw merits a triva post, but let's try to squeeze some for the sake of completion, shall we?

Check out also my trivia posts for chapters 1D and 2D.

They're the same picture.

It took me way too long to notice what was off in this cover, it seems to be nothing but an aesthetic choice. Other than these off colors, this specific suika melon design first appeared during the Treasure island arc, right after Ryusui punted her off the Perseus.

To directly quote what I wrote at one time on the wiki:

Too bad, the ship Chelsea shows up in is not the Perseus D. Monkey from chapter 214 (which itself is a One Piece reference, as Boichi is a big fan).

Interesting that we get a nearly identical shot, instead of Kohaku standing behind her, it's Ruri and Matsukaze.

This posture done my Matsukaze is called Namaste (with other names such as Namaskar), which is used both as a greeting and as an indication of reverence all over the southern parts of Asia, along with other similar gestures. I know this is familiar to many myself included but I had never looked into the deeper details until now.

Figurines showing this pose have been excavated from the Indus valley civilization dating to between 2700 and 2100 BCE, making this piece of cultural heritage at least 7800 years old by the time of this panel.

Xeno has clearly had his hand in the architecture of the Japan side of the KoS, with some new constructions resembling his own Evil Disneyland back home.

Hold back yer tears

Kaseki has lived well. It's hard to tell how old he is now, he lived longer than the timeline's consistency thats for sure, I blame time travel.

At the time Taiju got wed, he was around 70 years old.

Kaseki and Chrome go back way further than the KoS, the fanbook tells us that Kaseki helped Chrome build his shed when he was just a boy.

Feel your heart a bit shakey? hang on there, we now get to talk about whyman's sorrow, and a small observation that I've made

Whyman can have emotions, the circuits that process that can be switched on and off, but the fact that a message can, or needs to be "left" for themselves, as well as his farewell for all eternity, has an interesting implication: once switched off, whyman loses the recollection of any experience they had in the meantime. These circuits allow whyman to feel, and also to then forget. This is useful, as emotions help them survive, but forgetting prevents the emotional baggage from growing infinitely over a virtually immortal life.

"If we remembered every single parting person, it would only be a few generations before the sorrow would pile up to the point it became unbearable. Maybe it is a blessing to forget. Forgetting allows us to get even. Forget sorrows as new ones replace them. Life can go on, if tragically. No accumulating loss that would one day make everyone struggle to survive and eventually pass on; though that last thing does also sound very much like today."

(10B points to the ~2 people who know where this quote is from, I digress)

So that's cool, and heartbreaking, but so what, does it connect to anything we've seen before?

Well...

In ch. 232 we see that Whyman does not know what created them.

How could that be, if they can remember things over deep time?

Maybe it is that Whyman chose to forget their creators, and everything they felt about them. Beings that they may even have loved in the deep deep past, and could not cope with yearning for.

The blonde, bangs & ponytail lineage.

The village graveyard. Last time we saw it, Byakuya's gravestone was opened to reveal the glass record.

A lot of recognizable headstones are still up now, some appear to have moved.

Other headstones might be gone or be different... The one with four dots that was there originally can't be seen in this new shot but it can be seen later in the chapter.

Also, I hate to break this to you, but there's more headstones now than there were before.

I counted 45 in the original shot, 50 in the new one, not including any that Chelsea and Senku may be covering. Granted this is likely just an oversight.

(I should mention that in order for them to match bottom to bottom, the top image is flipped horizontally).

(omg look at the babiesss)

What Xeno is telling Chrome is that if whyman went and altered their own past, then what they are seeing currently is the result of that, since whatever changes they made, are in the past after all.

They already happened and they are part of the timeline that leads them to where they are now.

Assuming they actually found Byakuya (or a petrified time traveler) means that either whyman created some sort of causal loop that is self sustaining (ie, the ramifications of the changes in the past include whyman going back to do them in the first place), or more in line with the many worlds hypothesis, that going back to the past and changing it creates a new parallel timeline where the repercussions of that happen, with no effect in the first one.

In the latter case it means the timeline we see now was altered by the whyman from a parallel universe.

The stone axe is a bit dissonant with where they are, technologically speaking, yes? Thing is, that's the one Senku took to the moon with him.

He's had it since chapter 1.

A few people I've seen mystified about this structure they unearthed at the cementery:

This is a collapsed building just like the structures that the Tsukasa empire occupied.

(shoutout to that guy about to die in the back)

Interestingly, this means that Ishigami Village is established on top of a once urban area.

I am always pumped for any extra bits of village lore I can get.

Did Suika's handwriting trigger your AI generated image senses? it did for me.

We were bamboozled again. If it ends up happening it's gonna be like the tale of the wolf. The moment we stop taking it seriously, Inagaki is gonna smack us across the head with it.

We were actually preparing for the poop on a stick to hit the f.a.a.n on discord. What do I make about the ending? I don't know, I got no big analysis this time around but I believe it's very likely we'll see more at some point.

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agaypanic · 1 year

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The Fella Part 8 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

Masterlist

The Fella Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: A new English teacher comes to Our Lady Immaculate and inspires the girls in more ways than one.

A/N: long time no see lol

***

“It’s a little exhausting sneaking around like this, don’t you think?” James asked as he and Y/n walked onto the bus. They had both told their families they would catch the early bus because they had assignments to work on. It wasn’t entirely untrue. They just left some parts out, Like meeting at a bakery for breakfast before going on the bus, working on their assignments later in the day instead of when they got to school, and that they were going together in the first place.

“A bit,” Y/n answered, letting her head fall on James’ shoulder while she looked out the window. A few girls were on the bus not paying attention, so she did it without caution. “But I like it. Just us. Without the chaos of friends and family.”

“But it won’t be like this forever, right?” He was timid. The two were about two months into their secret relationship, and it seemed that as the days passed, the more effort they had to put into being secretive.

Y/n reached for James’ hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Definitely not.”

An hour later, the rest of the girls had joined the secret couple at the school. Luckily, they didn’t seem to care much about what they were supposedly up to. Instead, they talked about what they did over the weekend, what they wanted to do next weekend, and how they didn’t want to go to assembly that morning.

But they did it anyways because they were required to. They stood in a row like the other students as they watched Sister Michael go on about a baby Jesus statue next to her.

“I still don’t get what it’s supposed to be,” James whispered after staring at it for a few minutes.

“It’s Jesus as a wain,” Michelle said.

“Why has he got a big red hat on?”

“Nobody knows,” Y/n responded. Sister Michael went on about how the Bishop wished for baby Jesus to go to every school in the Derry Diocese. A headmaster of one of the schools stood on the other side of the statue, waiting to accept it. But that didn’t last long.

“I fear you may have had a wasted journey.” Michael’s gaze went from the headmaster to the statue. “I’ve thought about it, and I’d much rather just hold on to him, really. He brightens up my office. He doesn’t answer back. I like the fella.”

There was some snickering in the crowd as the headmaster was brushed aside.

“Now, what else was there?” Sister Michael thought before giving a short nod. “Ah, yes. Sadly, Sister Patrick has decided to leave us. She’s returning to her missionary work, educating the heathen inhabitants of a primitive and savage place.”

“She’s…” A woman near Sister Michael said, “taken a teaching post in Belfast, Sister.”

“Precisely. The Board of Governors promised me that her replacement would arrive today, but as usual, they were talking out of their-”

The doors behind the girls opened with a bang. A woman with long hair walked in wearing leather and holding a helmet.

“I believe you’ve been expecting me.” Her voice bounced off the walls. Sister Michael sighed.

“Here we go.” She muttered under her breath.

***

The woman ended up being the girls’ new English teacher. Her name was Ms. De Brún, which she wrote on the chalkboard before turning to the class. She looked like she didn’t want to be there.

“What is it we should be doing, Miss?” Jenny asked.

“What should you be doing?” She said. “Now, there’s a question. But let me ask you a better one. What is it you want to do?”

“Get pished,” Michelle muttered, making Y/n, her desk neighbor, snort. Only Michelle would think about getting hammered this early in the day.

“I’d quite like some feedback on the poetry assignment, actually,” Jenny said.

“Boo.” Y/n groaned.

“Dickhead.” Michelle rolled her eyes.

“It counts towards our final grade, people.” Jenny raised her voice while Ms. De Brún went around the desk. She sifted through papers.

“This is 12A, right?”

“That is correct, Miss.”

“And you are?”

“Jenny.” She folded her hands on her desk with a smug smile. “Jenny Joyce.”

“You think De Brún would mind if I offed myself?” Y/n asked Michelle sarcastically while the teacher grabbed Jenny’s paper.

“The Flower, by Jenny Joyce.” Jenny suddenly looked horrified.

“You’re not going to read it out, are you?”

“Of course. Poetry should always be read aloud.” De Brún looked from Jenny to her paper. “Some flowers are tall. Some flowers are small. Some flowers barely grow at all.” She then set the paper down, clearly not impressed.

“That’s not the end.”

“It should be.” Ms. De Brún grabbed the rest of the stack. “Here’s a poem about a dog. Here’s another one about a dog.” She paused to look at one. “This one has no name on it. An English Rose Among Thorns?”

Everyone immediately knew who wrote that one. Y/n looked behind her to see James sheepishly look down. Despite feeling bad for the boy, she let out a small giggle along with the rest of the class. But not for the same reason as them. His shyness was adorable to her.

“I can see why you might want to remain anonymous.” De Brún commented before looking through more poems. “Dog poem. Poem about a tree. This one’s called Boys.” She pulled it out of the stack to read. “I think boys are really class. Especially the ones who have a nice ass.”

Y/n could see Michelle mouthing the end of it before speaking with a goofy smile.

“It’s called a haiku.”

“That’s not what I would call it. Dog poem. Dog poem. This one’s just a picture of a dog.” She stared at it for a few seconds before setting it aside on her desk. “That’s not bad, actually.”

“Thank you very much.” Orla smiled.

“This person has written about how much they love their English class in an embarrassing attempt to suck up to the teacher.” Even though she was across the room, Y/n could sense Clare cringing.

“Dog poem. Dog poem. Cat poem.” As De Brún went on, Erin raised her hand. Y/n groaned, sensing what her sister was about to say.

“Yes?”

“I think a lot of people in this class, and I know no one will mind me saying this, have a very basic grasp of the creative process. Whereas I’ve been writing for years, so I’m really not afraid to put myself out there, to be bold. To take risks.”

“And you are?”

“Erin Quinn.” She had some of the same smugness that Jenny had, but it didn’t go away when Ms. De Brún pulled out her paper.

“The bullets fired on the streets as I lie in my bed, are nothing to the bullets being fired….” She sighed. “In my head.”

“It’s about The Troubles.” Erin jumped to explain. “In a political sense. But also about my own troubles, in a personal sense.”

“I understand the weak analogy. This isn’t bold, Erin. It’s someone failing to be bold.”

“Well, I’m sorry if the subtleties of my work were lost on you, Miss De Brún.”

“Poetry is truth.” De Brún started. “And great poetry is raw and real and messy and glorious and ugly. It’s dragged from the depths of the soul. It helps us understand each other and ourselves. Do you get what I’m saying? It’s not often in life you’re allowed to tear up the page and start over.” For dramatic effect, she tore Erin’s paper in half. “But I’m gonna give you that chance. Impress me.”

***

That evening, the girls and James went to the Quinn household. Luckily, the rest of the family was out to the movies, so the teens wouldn’t be bothered. Candy wrappers and scrapped paper littered the dining table as the girls mumbled and wrote.

“God, this whole ‘writing-from-the-soul’ thing is a nightmare.” Erin groaned as she tore another page from her notebook, tossing it somewhere in the room.

“I know.” Michelle agreed. “What rhymes with ride?”

“Bide.” Y/n muttered, staring at her blank page.”

“Bide?” Michelle scoffed. “What the fuck does ‘bide’ mean? Bide… That’s not a word.”

“It is a word, Michelle.” Erin insisted.

“Bide? You’ve lot pure made that up.”

“Can we all be quiet? Please.” A frazzled Clare pleaded as she scribbled out words.

Orla put down her pencil and showed her notebook to James, who sat across from her. On the page was a drawing of the boy, except his eyes were colored red.

“What do you think, James?” Orla asked. “You’ve got red eyes ’cause I ran out of brown.” James went to speak, but Y/n beat him to it.

“His eyes are green.” She said, not looking up from her page, which was still blank. James glanced at her, nodding slightly.

“What she said.”

“Now you tell me.” Orla dropped the notebook, seemingly betrayed.

The girls tossed ideas to each other, but unfortunately, nothing stuck. The writing session didn’t last long, for when another idea went down the drain, the door opened.

The Quinn family was home.

The teens scrambled to clean up the mess, but it was too late.

“Sweet Jesus.” Mary looked horrified.

“Mammy, we can explain,” Erin said with a mouth full of sweets.

“Not the Christmas cupboard.”

“We needed energy for our poetry.”

“I’ll give you energy for your poetry!” Mary shouted. “What am I supposed to do? I’ll have to start from scratch now, and December’s only round the corner.”

“It’s eight months away, Love,” Gerry commented. But that just made Grandpa Joe turn the blame onto him, a usual occurrence. The girls tried to tell Mary about Miss De Brún and her words, but she just turned the blame on them. Another usual occurrence.

***

“It was difficult, so you’ve just given up?” Miss De Brún asked the girls in her classroom the following day. She slowly paced around the group. “You might fail, so why bother trying?”

“Exactly. Told you she’d understand.” Michelle said. De Brún stopped in front of a framed picture near the window.

“Have you ever stopped to look at these?” She asked. The girls and James walked over to the picture. It was a picture from years ago of students from Our Lady Immaculate. “These faces from the past. They’re not so different from you, really. They had dreams like you do. They had ambitions. But now, they’re gone. Dead. Dust.”

Clare pointed at a girl in the photo.

“That’s my auntie Anne, third from the left. She’s not dead.” Clare was shushed by De Brún. “She’s only 54.”

“But did they fulfill those dreams? Those ambitions?” Ms. De Brún asked. “One day, girls, you too will just be an old photograph in a hallway.” A shiver went down everyone’s spine as they thought about their teacher’s words. “You only get one life. Don’t be afraid to live it.”

***

Ms. De Brún had become such an influence on the girls’ lives in just a few days. They became bolder, which meant wearing more of what they wanted, including winged eyeliner like their teacher. Even James, which Y/n lovingly teased him about when they were alone.

Despite Clare’s reservations, the girls had even gone to Ms. De Brún’s house. After all, they were going to a teacher’s house at night. Everyone had gotten a little tipsy and soon left after Erin and Ms. De Brún started reciting poetry. On the way back home, they had a run-in with Jenny Joyce. The encounter ended with the girls dragging Clare away, who was drunkenly talking about Jenny’s mother.

“Do you think Clare should sleep at ours?” Y/n asked Erin and Orla. The girl in question stumbled around, clinging to Michelle and James. “I think her mum will kill her if she sees her.”

“Might as well.” Erin turned to Michelle and James. “You guys wanna stay over as well?”

“I’d rather not deal with Clare like this more than I have to,” Michelle muttered.

“I don’t think your family would appreciate me staying over,” James commented.

“Oh, come on. We could just sneak you in.” Y/n joked. To everyone else, she was definitely kidding. But the look James gave her showed that he was actually considering it.

Luckily, the adults paid them no mind when the girls and James got to the Quinn residence. They were too busy arguing over some movie they were supposed to see but got cut short. James helped Erin and Y/n sneak Clare up to Erin’s room before saying goodbye and leaving.

After making sure Clare had water and medicine for the morning, Y/n said goodnight to her sister, friend, and cousin before heading to her own room. She sat on her bed, trying to destress from the night’s events when she heard a timid knock on her window. She whipped around, terrified, only to see James. She rushed to the window and opened it.

“What are you doing, James?” Y/n hissed quietly. “How did you even get up here?”

“I climbed.” He said like it was obvious. It was, but she hadn’t expected him to climb the side of her house tonight. “Michelle was already leaving when I came in to help with Clare, so I don’t think she’ll notice I’m gone until the morning. Can I come in?”

Y/n immediately moved out of his way, helping him into her room.

“You know, when I said you could sneak in, I was joking.” She laughed quietly, not wanting attention drawn to her room. “But, if I’m honest, I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” James spoke, inching towards her. His arms wrapped around her, and he gave her a kiss. “I’ve been really thinking about what Ms. De Brún said. About how you can’t be afraid to live. And it made me realize that I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“What are you saying, James?” Y/n asked softly. “Was everybody right? Are you gay?” They both laughed, him pinching her side at the silly question.

“No, I’m not gay. How many times do I have to say that?” The quiet laughter ceased, and he continued. “I’m saying I don’t want us to hide anymore. I want people to know we’re dating.”

That didn’t shock Y/n. She knew how tiring it was to hide their relationship, especially from their friends. She also knew that James was thinking more about telling everyone. But she didn’t think he’d want to do it so soon.

“Are you sure?” She asked. The boy could overthink sometimes. There was a chance he was just swept up in De Brún words and her effect on the group.

“Yeah.” He nodded, pulling her closer. “Obviously, if you’re not ready, we don’t have to. But I want you to know that I’m ready.”

Y/n nodded, letting the words sink in.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” A smile crept onto James’ face.

“Yeah. I just think we should let it happen naturally, though. Like if it comes up, then it comes up.” The couple agreed, sharing a kiss. “Wanna spend the night?”

“Please.” Y/n’s smile widened, if that was even possible. She went to her closet and pulled out some of James’ clothes that he had left for occasions like this. They faced away from each other to change. When they were done, they got under Y/n’s covers. Y/n turned off the lamp on her bedside table, and James held her close to his chest.

“Thank you.” He whispered, both of them drifting off.

“For what?”

“For wanting to be seen with me.” Y/n knew what he was talking about. Not only was the boy English, but many people acted like they were bothered by his very existence. Y/n couldn’t understand how someone could look at a boy like James and feel what people usually felt instead of what she felt when she looked at him.

“I want you through and through, Jamie.” He smiled at the nickname, even more so when she kissed his cheek before settling her head back down on his chest.

***

The next morning, Y/n helped James sneak out her window before she got dressed for school and headed downstairs. She heard her mother quarreling with her sister Erin, so she felt it was best to just grab some toast and head out. Eventually, everyone met up at the bus stop. James made a point to sit beside Y/n on the bus as they headed to school, arm draped around the seat. The move seemed so casual that no one said anything.

The girls went to class, excited to see Ms. De Brún. But they skidded to a stop when they entered the classroom to see Sister Michael erasing the chalkboard. She turned and looked at the girls expectantly.

“Take a seat, please, ladies.” She gestured to all the empty desks, except for Jenny Joyce, who always made a point to be early, before sitting down herself.

“Where’s Ms. De Brún?” Erin asked.

“Gone. And she’s not coming back.”

“What?”

“I knew it.” Clare groaned. “When I woke up this morning, I had a feeling something terrible was going to happen and also that essentially, deep down, I’m quite an evil person.”

“That’s just a hangover, Clare,” Y/n said, patting her friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you’ll be grand,” Michelle added, being the expert on this kind of thing.

“I will be taking this class for the rest of the term.” Sister Michael said. “It makes me want to pull off my own face, but needs must.”

Erin stomped up to Jenny Joyce, getting in her face.

“This was you, wasn’t it? What did you do? What did you say?”

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

“Aye, so you don’t. Supergrass!”

“Chill, Erin!” Y/n reprimanded her sister.

“That’s quite enough.” Sister Michael added.

“You don’t understand, sister,” Erin said, looking at her. “Ms. De Brún, she touched us.”

“Oh my god.” Y/n’s voice came out horrified at the wording.

“What?”

“She made us think. She made us feel.”

“Thank god. That would be all I need.” Sister Michael sighed in relief at the clarification.

“You can’t sack her!” Erin yelled suddenly. “You just can’t!”

“Miss Quinn, you appear to be under the misapprehension that you can address me as though you are my equal.” Sister Michael hissed. The bell rang. “I suggest you rein it in and take a seat.”

***

It was all Erin’s idea. Everyone else was either stupid or bored enough to go along with it.

Sister Michael had judo on Fridays, so it was the perfect day for the girls to enact their revenge. The girls had decided that since Sister Michael had taken something precious from them, they would do the same.

“Creepy wee fucker, isn’t he?” Michelle looked at the baby Jesus statue they took from Sister Michael’s office to place in the English classroom.

“I would just like to state once again for the record that I think this might be the worst idea we’ve ever had,” Clare whined.

“Understatement of the year,” Y/n muttered, watching her friends move around.

“Look, do you want to help Ms. De Brún or not?” Erin asked.

“Can we not find a way to help her that doesn’t involve abducting a holy statue?”

“We’re not abducting him, Clare.” Erin rolled her eyes. “We’re kidnapping him.”

“That’s quite literally the same thing, Erin,” Y/n said. Erin sighed.

“We’ll give him back on the condition that Ms. De Brún is rightfully reinstated.” Y/n and Clare laughed sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah. Sister Michael will be fully on board with that idea.”

James took out a camera to take a photo of the statue to accompany the ransom note Erin was currently writing. When the first picture came out, James and Michelle decided to move the figure into a better position. Unfortunately, being how they were, they couldn’t agree and kept tugging on the statue. Before they knew it, it hit the floor.

“Oh my god,” Y/n whispered in horror, picking up the head of baby Jesus, which cracked off from the statue.

“Let’s glue him!” Someone said.

“Yeah! We’ll just stick it back on.” Orla grabbed glue and took the head from Y/n, scrambling to get it back on. “We’ll stick it back on, and it’ll all be grand.” The girls crowded around the statue, trying to help put the head on.

“Jesus, girls!” Their attention snapped to Sister Michael, who stood in the classroom doorway. The girls ran to stand in front of the statue, hopefully blocking her view. “What are you still doing here? I thought we had an intruder. And I tell you what, he’d have been a sorry boy, for I just nailed some serious moves.” She tightened the belt on her Judo uniform.

“We were just working on our English project, sister.” Erin smiled nervously, hoping her lie wasn’t too noticeable. Sister Michael peered at the group suspiciously.

“Step aside.” She said simply. Everyone hesitated, but after seeing her stern glare, they moved away from what they tried to cover up. She looked horrified as she looked past to the statue that stood behind them. “What in God’s name have you done?” She muttered.

***

“How could you glue his head on upside down, Orla?” Y/n hissed as she and the others stood against a chalkboard, getting their picture taken like it was a group mugshot portrait. “He’s wearing a hat, for Christ’s sake!”

“Quiet!” Sister Michael reprimanded from her desk. The door opened, and she greeted whoever walked in. “Mary, Sarah, Deidre.”

“Oh, god.” Y/n whimpered at the mention of her mother’s name.

“Your girls involved in this beheading too, then?” Clare’s mom Deidre asked the other mothers.

“It wasn’t me, Mammy!” Clare said.

“Do not speak to me, Clare.” Her mother held a hand up, looking away from her. “In fact, don’t even breathe.” Clare immediately started to hold her breath, not wanting to upset her mother any further. Y/n winced at the scene.

“Take a seat, Mrs. Devlin.” Sister Michael gestured. When she sat, she got right down to business. “The statue was stolen from this room, so I’ve asked Miss Mooney to photograph the scene. Either it is replaced at your expense, or the school will sue.”

“To be honest, sister, and I’m not just saying this, I think he looked better.” Mary smiled nervously, thinking about how much her pockets would hurt if she had to replace that statue. Sister Michael eyed baby Jesus.

“He looks like his head’s on upside down.” She looked back at the mothers. “And I’ll be suspending them for a week.” That got more of a reaction.

“Please, no!” Mary cried out. “A week? We’re going to be stuck with them for a week?” At first, Y/n was offended. But then she remembered that her mother lived with most of the friend group.

“Be reasonable, sister!” Mrs. Devlin said. “We didn’t behead the fella.”

“By Christ, you’re in for it, girls.” Mary glared at her daughters.

“It was an accident, Mammy,” Erin said meekly.

“So you accidentally wrote a ransom note, did you?” Erin paused.

“Okay, that bit wasn’t an accident. But we were so upset by what happened to Ms. De Brún. It was wrong. She shouldn’t have been sacked.”

“She didn’t.” Attention turned to Sister Michael.

“What?” The girls asked.

There was a knock on the door, and the lady of the hour walked in.

“Sorry to interrupt, sister.” Ms. De Brún walked to her desk. “But if I could just grab the old p45, then I’ll be out of your way.” The girls watched as Sister Michael handed her a piece of paper.

“Excuse me?” Erin asked, tone begging for an explanation.

“Ms. De Brún has decided to leave us.”

“I got offered a post in St. Dominic’s girls. Better wages, holiday pay, great pension. The works. I couldn’t say no, really.”

“But what happened to living for the moment?” Y/n asked.

“What happened to ‘life should be spontaneous’?” Erin added.

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed, remembering all the things she had taught the girls in the week she had worked with them. “But I’m buying a house, and the mortgage rates are absolutely crippling at the moment.”

“Tell me about it. Desperate.” Sister Michael laughed. “Part of the reason I became a nun: free accommodation.”

“But, Ms. De Brún, you inspired me to do my greatest work,” Erin said.

“I see.” She nodded. “Which was?”

“My poem. My glass doll poem.” Ms. De Brún just looked at her, confused. “She’s a doll made of glass. She’s a glass doll. I read it to you last night.” Ms. De Brún nodded again.

“Yeah. I wasn’t really listening, to be honest.” If Erin wasn’t crushed before, she would have certainly turned to dust at that moment. “Cheers. Carpe diem.”

And with that, she was gone.

“Carpe dickhead.” Y/n said, staring at the door.

“Well, I guess we never knew who the real Ms. De Brún was,” Erin said in defeat.

“A bit like Keyser Söze.” Mary said, off in thought. She and her family wouldn’t shut up about that movie they never finished.

“The fella with the bad leg.” Sister Michael commented.

“What?”

“Keyser Söze. He was the fella with the bad leg. He was talking absolute shite the whole time. He was one of those….” Sister Michael trailed off, looking for the right word. “What do you call it? Unreliable narrators.”

“That’s very clever,” Mary said as if all the pieces of her life were finally falling into place.

“Look this way, girls.” The girls had forgotten why they were stuck in Sister Michael’s office in the first place. They all turned towards the photographer, and the camera flashed to take another picture of the criminals.

***

Y/n and James lay in her bed late at night. James was somehow able to sneak away from his aunt and cousin. Now they just had to stay quiet, so Y/n’s family wouldn’t catch them.

“Jamie?” Y/n whispered.

“Yeah, N/n?” He responded, staring up at her ceiling.

“Now that Ms. De Brún is gone….” She hesitated, wondering if she should actually ask the question that was on her mind. “Do you still want people to know? About us?”

James sat up, making Y/n do the same. He grabbed her hands.

“What do you mean?” She squeezed his hands, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Well, part of me was wondering if you were just riding on the high that De Brún got us on. You know, being bold and taking risks and such. And now that she’s gone, I just wanted to know if you still wanted everyone to know that we were together.”

He was silent for a moment, and Y/n prayed that she hadn’t upset him. He gripped her hands tightly, pulling her closer to him. One of his hands left hers to rest on her cheek, getting her to look at him.

“Of course I want people to know, Y/n. I know I can be heavily influenced, but that decision was all me. Ms. De Brún just helped me realize what I really wanted.”

“Which is?”

“To be with you.” He brought her hands up for him to kiss. “As much as I can be.”

Y/n suddenly shifted into his lap, hugging his shoulders. His arms wrapped around her waist as they sat in each other’s presence.

“No more hiding,” Y/n spoke into his shoulder. “I’m honestly sick of having to keep it a secret.”

“Me too.” James agreed. “So, should we tell them?”

Y/n pulled away just enough to look at him.

“Let them figure it out on their own. Being with you whenever I want is honestly all I need.” James nodded in agreement. He pulled her into a kiss, breaking away slightly to say something before going back in.

“No more hiding.”

~~~

TAG LIST: @mistahjsfunnygirl @etherealdisneyvillainness @crystalsoobin-m @raggedyoldwitch @rosetintworld @regretthatsme @neenieweenie @allexiiisss @drmeghanjones @eli-com @anything-for-our-moony-toast @ilovespideyyy @eddisaurus @imagines--galore @imastabu @emma-is-a-nerd @sir1usblacksgf @kaz-2y567 @spidercrush3 @urmomssecretsock @humanoid-freak14 @the-lonely-raisin @miilkshakess @butttxray @underthebatcape

DM ME OR SEND IN AN ASK IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED OR REMOVED FROM THE FELLA TAG LIST!

#james maguire x reader #james maguire #derry girls x reader #derry girls #agaypanic

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pinky-the-elephant-room · 1 year

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You're like a well-done meal I can't get enough of.

の AN: Me wondering why everyone's doing Valentines prompts not knowing that it's already February lmaooo. But no this is no V- Day prompt I just finished the last season of Haikyuu so I wrote a fic for the best twin.

の Warning: None! Osamu x Fem Reader SFW

の Summary: Sometimes Osamu could be dense as his twin. Not even knowing the entire time Y/N liked him.

のののののの

His eyes narrowed at his brother and his friend.

She held her bangs up with her hand and nodded to Atsumu.

His twin grinned and swatted her forehead with his finger.

Y/N hissed and rubbed at the reddened skin.

“You jerk!” she yelled. “I told you not to hit me so hard.”

Atsumu shrugged. “You shouldn’t have dared me.”

“Best two out of three!”

The two idiots then proceeded to stuff their mouths with sushi, only for Y/N this time to swallow and gulp down some water quickly.

“Ha! Take that I win!” Y/N cheered, sticking out her tongue and showing off the fact she had finished before Atsumu.

“You cheated! How many sushi did you eat? We both agreed on five sushi at the same time,” Atsumu accused.

“Don’t be a sore loser! Now show off that big old forehead of yours. Time for payback.”

Osamu frowned and looked away, shaking his head forlornly.

It was hard enough being away from his twin. What with their busy schedules with him managing Onigiri Miya and Atsumu being busy with the Black Jackals. They hardly ever got time to meet up in person. The most they would interact nowadays were the roast sessions they had via texts.

Now he had to deal with the fact this slip of a girl was replacing him.

When she first came with Atsumu, he assumed that his twin had brought her along to introduce Y/N as his girlfriend.

Imagine his surprise when they both grimaced in disgust at the thought of dating each other.

Instead, she was just a friend, their camaraderie- reminiscent of Sumu’s and his relationship. She felt like a cheap replacement in his opinion.

Though, he wasn’t rude enough to make his feelings known. No, he sucked it up, smiled, and welcomed her like she belonged.

But privately hoping that they would eventually grow apart and stop being friends.

At least they weren’t dating each other.

Osamu frowned at that thought. Not knowing why he felt uncomfortable.

“Samu, what’s wrong? Is your sushi bad?” Atsumu asked at seeing his face. “Let me see.” His twin reached out to grab some of his sushi only for his hand to be smacked away by Y/N.

“You idiot. Don’t grab without asking.”

“I did ask!”

“That’s not asking! You just said ‘let me see’.” At this Y/N lowered her voice to imitate Atsumu and Atsumu looked vaguely insulted at her attempt. “And started grabbing that’s not asking.”

Y/N turned her attention toward him. “Here, Osamu-kun. I saved your sushi.”

She looked at him expectantly and smiled gently.

Osamu blinked and swallowed, feeling the back of his neck get hot. “Thanks, Y/N-chan.” He felt unsure as to why all of a sudden he was feeling overwhelmed. Perhaps Atsumu was right maybe the sushi was bad.

He took a bite out of a sashimi roll and didn’t find anything wrong with it. Shrugging it off, maybe the stress of overworking had finally gotten to him.

He noticed Y/N still observing him, who flashed him a quick smile before turning her attention back to his twin. His stomach dropped and churned as he became more and more conflicted.

Osamu couldn’t help but make an observation that Y/N looked especially pretty today.

ののののの

“Text me when you get home,” Atsumu ordered as he pulled Y/N’s cheeks.

The three of them had just finished their meals, and Y/N was headed back to Tokyo.

“Don’t tell me what to do you’re not my mooo-” the rest of her words came out garbled as Atsumu pulled harder.

“Ok, ok! I will!” Y/N managed to sputter after she pushed Atsumu away.

She glared at Atsumu from the corner of her eyes before waving to Osamu.

“I’ll see you later, Osamu-kun! It was nice to see you. We should do this more often,” she said with a hopeful look.

He shrugged noncommittally and they saw off Y/N heading to the nearby subway.

“Why do you keep bringing her along?” Osamu demanded as soon as Y/N was out of sight.

“What do you mean by that?” Atsumu seemed confused like his reaction was unexpected.

“Every time we try to hang out you bring her along! You don’t even bother asking either.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Samu, don't tell me you haven’t noticed yet?”

Osamu felt like he was missing something here. Was he supposed to notice something?

“Y/N likes you! You should be proud of me. I was actually doing a good thing for someone else.”

“Twins don’t count you’re supposed to be nice to family,” Osamu managed to utter.

He felt dizzy from Atsumu’s admission. Y/N liked him? Since when? He could practically count the number of times they’d talked without Atsumu present on his hands.

“And it doesn’t bother you that Y/N likes me?”

“No. Why would it?”

Osamu chuckled and shook his head. Of course, it wouldn’t. So, they truly were just friends and his brother of all people was trying to play matchmakers.

“What’s so funny?”

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t concern you.”

Osamu ignored his twin’s fuming rants in the background as he contemplated on what to do with the impromptu information he had just received.

のののの

Osamu exhaled when he heard the front door of Onigiri Miya chime and heard Y/N’s familiar voice.

He wiped his wet hands with a nearby towel and cracked his neck.

It was time. He was taking the leap.

He could almost hear Atsumu’s smug annoying voice in the background calling him out on hesitating when she was waiting outside for him.

Osamu waved off his imaginary twin’s visage and stepped from the back to where he saw Y/N looking around the store, fascinated.

“Osamu-kun!” she called startled, yet embarrassed when he appeared before her without a sound.

“Y/N-chan, you’re here on time. Let’s go,” he gestured towards the preparation station where he had everything set up.

“Wait isn’t Atsumu coming too? Shouldn’t we wait for him?”

“He couldn’t make it. Apparently, he’s staying back tonight to practice some more with the team.”

“Ugh, that’s just like him and without any warning whatsoever.”

“Here,” he handed over an apron. Not wanting to hear anything about his brother when it was just him and Y/N alone.

Osamu stepped behind her and slightly caressed her waist as he intertwined the apron’s strings and tied them neatly in the back.

He smirked when he heard her choke back a gasp at his closeness.

“Tight enough?” he asked, leaning over to deliberately whisper near her ear.

She shakingly nodded and he let her go, satisfied for now with her reactions.

“You’re not gonna need my brother to learn how to make onigiris. Just me and you is enough.”

He hadn’t meant to tease but her cheeks nevertheless turned a lovely shade of pink at his words.

The rice had already been cooked, and set aside: steaming and hot ready for them to be rolled into onigiris.

There was also a variety of different ingredients like miso sauce or tuna mixed with mayo depending on the type of onigiris Y/N preferred.

Osamu instructed her slowly, making sure she was following each step accurately as possible.

“You should roll them like this,” he said, enveloping his hands with her own and guiding her along.

At first, he could feel her trembling at their closeness and she stiffened like she wanted nothing more than to push him away. But he held firm and softened his tone to soothe her discomfort.

“And then you’re done,” he said relinquishing his hold and smiled down at the perfect shape of the onigiri they had made.

“Can I taste?” she asked, reaching for the shaped rice ball.

He handed it over and she delicately took a bite.

Y/N savored it and broke into a gleeful smile.

“It’s good! Wow, usually my onigiris never turn out this good.”

“May I?” Osamu asked reaching out. Y/N assumed he meant the onigiri held it out for him, only for him to snake his arm around her waist and pull her close.

“Itadakimasu,” he teased, leaning in and kissed her.

#osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x y/n #osamu x you #osamu x female reader #miya twins #osamu miya #inarizaki #haikyū!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyu fanfiction

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dinkedupfink · 1 year

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eleventh doctor x gn! reader

character: 11th doctor (doctor who)

request? no

wrote like the last part of this half asleep so im sorry if it kinda sucks lololol

There was rarely a moment where you had nothing to do with the doctor around - but rare didn't mean never, in fact, at the moment you were just scrolling through your phone with nothing to do.

The doctor was under the control panel of the tardis, occupying himself with whatever new fix or upgrade he had to do to it, and you were sitting on the stairs that lead from the panel to who-knows-where. There wasn't much noise other than the low humming of the tardis, the doctors occasional banging two devices that you could never even begin to understand the function of together, and a few videos from your phone.

You got bored of your phone pretty quick and put it back in your pocket before hopping down the stairs to the doctor. Finding a place to sit, you settled down cross legged with your elbows on your legs and head in your hands.

Staring at the doctor was something that wasn't too rare of a sight when you got bored, and it was the most that you thought you’d ever let your romantic affection shine through.

Yes, romantic. You’d had a crush on the doctor for quite a while now, but you weren't going to tell him that - no way, firstly, crushes was what you’d say if you were what, 7? And secondly, he probably didn't like you back in that way, and being friends with him was enough for you if you had to be.

Today though, it was different. Instead of just letting you carry on staring and minding his business, he looked over at you with a lost face. He put down his gadgets and walked over to where you were sitting. The place you were sitting was technically the floor, but it wasn't under the control panel, so it was higher, and it went up to around the doctor's waist.

When he stopped right in front of you, he first put his hands together, before putting them somewhere else, and then finally deciding to cross them with a little frustrated noise.

“Why do you stare at me so much? I mean- not that it's a problem, except if i was a karmot, then it would definitely be a problem, they take it as a serious crime- wait no back to my question. Why?” he said, sounding like he’d been thinking about it hard, which came as a bit of a surprise to you, since it looked like he didn't even notice most of the time.

“You just have a nice face” you said with a shrug, which wasn't very out-of-character of you, but still dusted his cheeks a bit pink since it was the first time it was directed at him. You could be very blunt at times, pointing out if you thought something was nice, even when it would embarrass most normal people to say it.

He uncrossed his arms before putting one hand on his hip and the other combing through his hair, and released a sigh. It was times like these where he just wanted to give you a big smooch on the lips, but did not because he just didn't know your feelings for him. Even with your straightforward nature, you were surprisingly hard to read, and it was part of what intrigued him about you.

Suddenly, he put his arms down on the floor at your sides, looking directly into your eyes and you felt yourself slowly heat up, your eyes widen, and your jaw clenching slightly. He didn't usually come this close to your face. You also took your hands away from your face and put them down into your lap, fiddling with your fingers.

A moment or two went by before he finally broke the silence with a phrase you’d never thought hearing from him of all people aimed at you.

“I love you.”

When your jaw dropped slightly, he slowly raised a hand to hold the side of your face, observing your reaction. “You- you mean it?” you said slowly, still processing the words in your head and making sure that you didn't mishear it for something else.

With a light smile he gave you a little nod, and you put your forehead down against his, raising one of your hands to put it on top of the one holding your face.

“I love you too.” you answered, now smiling softly down at him. He smiled back and non-verbally asked permission when his eyes darted down to your lips for a second before looking back into yours, and when all you did was widen your smile, he took it as a yes and locked your lips with his.

It was slow and soft, showing only the love that you and him felt for each other, and he honestly just thought about how he should've told you sooner with how good your lips felt against his. Pulling away, he just grinned and you returned with an equally as happy smile of your own.

“So why’d you decide to tell me now?” you asked, still looking into his eyes with love but an underlying layer of confusion in yours, and he thought of why. Why was it? Was it because of that gaze which anyone but him of course would mistake for just curiosity, but it had a hint of longing? Was it the way that the soft tardis lights shined just the right way on your face and made it even more ethereal than usual? But he didn't really care, just happy with how it turned out.

His grin turned into a smile, and all he said was “There was about a 50 percent chance that you’d reject me, and a 50 percent chance you wouldn't, so I decided ‘why not take the risk?’”

#doctor who #11th doctor #dw #gn reader #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader

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sidekick-hero · 8 months

Text

Last line/sentence tag game

I was writing all day on my big bang with my dearest @legitcookie and I was tagged by so many of my wonderful mutuals and friends in this game (several times, oopps), so I'm doing the thing where I post one sentence per person who tagged me 💜🫡

RULES: post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence

Sorry for the delay and thank you so much for the tags and patience my dears: @steddieasitgoes, @eriquin, @scarcrossdlvrs, @starryeyedjanai, @steves-strapcollection, @steddieas-shegoes, @willowworkswithwords, @withacapitalp, @spooky-stevie, @riality-check, @yournowheregirl, @thefreakandthehair, @wynnyfryd, @vecnuthy🥰

14 people, 14 sentences - of we fuck, as my best friend always says

They agreed to meet the next Saturday when Steve had the day off. Which, in retrospect, is a bad idea, because it means he has the whole day to ruminate. So he does what he always does when he's stressed or worried out of his mind: he deep cleans his apartment to keep his thoughts at bay.

Instead of replaying conversations in his head, he'd scrub his shower to the last inch of its life. Instead of imagining worst-case scenarios, he would dust every surface as if it were being inspected and go through every cupboard to reorganize and purge. It feels somewhat symbolic; he can't control what happens in his life, but he can Lysol every speck of dirt out of his apartment.

It doesn't cure everything, but it keeps him sane until it's time to shower and get dressed. He focuses on scrubbing, priming, and making himself as presentable as possible, because Steve may get dumped today, but at least he will look as good as he can while it happens. It's a point of pride for him.

He might fall apart later, but no one will be around to see it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve is early. He didn't want to be. He didn't want to pace up and down in front of the restaurant with his nerves for everyone to see, but he also couldn't stay in the oppressive silence of his apartment one second longer. So here he is, pacing in front of The Resevoir, a place he's never been to before because Eddie suggested they try something new.

Tags under the cut

The last sentence here has 24 words, so 24 people it is (Sandy you need to start writing shorter sentences!):

No pressure tags; @steddieasitgoes, @eriquin, @scarcrossdlvrs, @starryeyedjanai, @steves-strapcollection, @steddieas-shegoes, @willowworkswithwords, @withacapitalp, @spooky-stevie, @riality-check, @yournowheregirl, @thefreakandthehair, @wynnyfryd, @vecnuthy, @ghostevie, @stobinesque, @patchworkgargoyle, @inairbinad, @judasofsuburbia, @wormdebut, @corrodedbisexual, @stevethehairington, @hammity-hammer, @oliver-sykes

#my writing #tag game #jesus so hard to come up with 24 people

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mojowitchcraft · 6 months

Text

Fic Writing Review 2023

Words and Fics

184,210 words posted on ao3 Plus about 7.7k getting posted today for Bat Eddie Ch. 4 Plus like 30k for Frat Boy Steve that hasn't been posted Plus 10k for a holiday fic I need to edit So approximately 230k written in 2023

23 fics worked on

16 fics published (series, one shots and multi-chapters)

1 multi-chapter finished (Strawberries & Cigarettes)

2 multi-chapter started (Living in a Lunar Spell aka Bat Eddie & We Part To Meet Again)

I haven't been keeping track as well as @loki-is-my-kink-awakening (thanks for the tag btw) so I'm not quite sure when I wrote the most

Ao3 Fic breakdown

Out of the 16 fics I posted:

3 multi chaptered fics

4 'one shots' in the Night Drives Series

1 'one shot' in my Y2K Steddie series (Valentines follow up to a Christmas fic I wrote)

8 stand alone one shots

Top 10 Fics by Kudos

Prisoner of Your Love (694) [Night Drives Part 6]

You Made Me Feel Shiny and New (610) [Night Drives Part 7]

Between The Velvet Lies (450) [Night Drives Part 8]

Hazy Shade (438) Based on this art by @toktopus-art

Power To Charm (399) [Night Drives Part 9]

It's A Match! (343) Tinder/Sexting fic

Must Hate Mondays (264) Garfield Fic featuring a ton of art!

Strawberries & Cigarettes (244) Multi-Chapter Post S4 fluff

Am I Your Fire? Your One Desire (184) Y2K Steddie Valentines fic

Your Hand In Mine (179) Tumblr prompt fic

My fandom fic events in 2023

Discord Server Valentines Fic / Art Exchange

Steddie Week in May (kinda?? I didn't do all the prompts)

Steddie Big Bang - Posting now!

@steddieholidayexchange Posting Dec 18th

@paradimeshifts7 One Shot Exchange posting Dec 20-24th

Upcoming Events for 2023

Discord Server Valentines Fic / Art Exchange

@strangerthingsreversebigbang March-April Posting Period I'm doing two fics for this!

Hopefully nothing else cause I want to FINALLY finish and start posting Frat Boy Steve aka Acta, Non Verba

Rules & Tags below the cut! Check out Ebs post, they got way more detailed than I did!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either. Tags: @mixsethaddams @grandmastattoo @sourw0lfs @transmascsteveharrington @kwills91 @thefreakandthehair @toburnup @bifuriouswaterbender @cranberrymoons

As always if you see this and want to do it consider this your tag!

#fic writing review 2023 #weird_witchcraft ao3 #tag game #2023 year in review #fic writer

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basiatlu · 8 months

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Thanks for tagging me @lqtraintracks and @goblinmatriarch 🤭💖✨

-Three Ships-: ok so last time I avoided hp ships so let’s make them all hp-centric! I mean Drarry as an easy shot, then there’s Wolfstar (but it always makes me really sad so only little nibbles), and finally Ginny serves as my village bicycle where I enjoy her paired with almost anyone I deem compatible as I want to see her thriving in life and experiencing fun and safe partners and finding herself etc etc I adore her. How’s that for a run-on sentence?

-First Ship-: was totally SasuSaku which was then a gateway drug to shipping the angsty boy with Naruto because early internet image searches, man.

-Last Song-: “Blue Spotted Tail” by Fleet Foxes

-Last Movie-: Gunpowder Milkshake - so good about 8/10 for me!

-Currently Reading-: reading through my paired fics for the upcoming Big Bang fest

-Last Thing I Wrote Drew-: yesterday’s drawtober prompt

-Currently Writing Drawing-: today’s drawtober prompt (totally not even procrastinating - not even a little bit)

-Are you named after anyone?-: I am! There’s the Polish jazz singer, Basia Trzetrzelewska. My mom is a big fan hehehe

-Favorite Subject in School-: History! Ancient history specifically

-Do you have kids?-: No, but I do have a circus of cats. They’re currently on a diet and have made the last month a terrible time for my sleep health lolz

-When was the last time you cried?-: so I have overactive tear ducts? So if I laugh I cry and I usually hit a breaking point everyday where I laugh hysterically at something. Today it was a sticker order a customer at work had ordered of an ms paint tracing of a Scooby-Doo ai splice gen where Scooby is eating the Mystery Gang in a giant hoagie sandwich. Yeah. Me and my co workers printed it out to pin to the wall as I cry/laugh/sobbed at my desk.

-Do you use sarcasm a lot?-: Yes but also no but also I just make fun of myself constantly and intentionally act stupid. It’s a great ploy to get others to lower their defenses around you. Not out of malicious intent, just I don’t take myself too seriously in order to save that energy for when it matters. Like when I have to intensely support my friends and partner with very serious-mode love and affection. … this doesn’t make any sense.

-What sports do you play/have played?-: soccer, softball, and swim <— I hate competitive sports and never stuck with them long than a year or I just was a filthy casual doing summer seasons/clubs. I’m more of a hiker and leisure gal.

-What’s the first thing you notice about people?-: the way they hold their shoulders and hands, secondary is their eyebrows and nose. It’s all demeanor and posture for me.

-Any special talents?-: gosh um I can cook really well. Honestly I don’t like eating out and neither does my partner because we turn to each other after and go “Eh it was ok but…” and wish I had done it at home instead. I can fold and make odd shapes with my tongue, can crinkle my fingers in odd ways (double jointed, but they lock badly so no thank you), and I can do some fucking weird voices/imitations but I chicken out in front of others beyond like 3 people, unfortunately for those 3

-Where we’re you born?-: Canada

-What are your hobbies?-: video games, tarot card readings, cooking, drawingdrawingdrawing, and reading

-How tall are you?-: I hover somewhere between 5’6” and 5’7”

-Dream Job-: comic artist / self-employed artist with occasional contract work for publishing/movies. I think if I could completely support myself and have a savings with a Patreon or the like that would make me so accomplished and at ease.

Ok enough of that!! I tag people now, yeah? @mono-chromia @hihimissamericanbi @littlewinnow

#shushbosh #getting to know you tag game #part duex #ask bosh

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anawinchester02 · 9 months

Text

”She Was Six”

March 24, 2003

I am 16 today.

Dad and I have been getting along. Better, at least. He’s seemed happy with my hunting, so I guess I’m doing okay.

I asked him to teach me to drive for my birthday. He said yes. We’re doing that today.

Dean gave me my present last night.

“Hey Ana.” he came into the room. Him and dad had been out all day, doing field work for a case. I’m still too young to join in on field work, I can’t pass for a fake FBI agent or police officer.

“Yeah?” I poked my head up from the book I was reading.

“I’ve been thinking about something you said and… I have something for you.”. He started grabbing something from his bag.

“Something I said?” I asked, curious.

“Well… You asked me once why I didn’t write.” he said.

I nodded.

“And I told you that it was because I had nothing to write about.”

“Yeah?..” I urged him to continue.

“You told me to write about myself but, I didn’t think there was anything worth writing.”

“Which is bull, but okay?” I said, still a little confused.

“That night… I tried. I tried to write about myself, but I never found anything to say. So…” he trailed off, opening a notebook from his bag. “I wrote about you instead.”. He looked at me. “I want you to have it for your birthday.”

I smiled ear to ear. “Really?!” I exclaimed, getting up and running over to hug him. “That’s so sweet, Dean, thank you!” I said, hugging him tight around the middle. He squeezed me back.

“I love you, kid. Happy sweet sixteen.”

“I love you too, De. Thank you.”

This is what he wrote.

“~She was six~

She was never much for complaining, but there seemed to be something in the air that day.

Sam and her had been in the back seat all day without any trouble. Nothing happened until hour four of a ten hour drive. That’s when they were suddenly bickering back and forth.

I could feel dad tensing up beside me with every whine from Ana. “Stop!” she’d yell. “You’re too big!”

Sam wasn’t doing anything particularly wrong, just resting his legs on the seat beside him, his back pressed up again the car door. He wasn’t even in her space, but she was bickering with him nonetheless. “I didn’t do anything!” he’d yell back as she’d push his feet off the seat.

Dad was losing patience. It wasn’t consistent, just every few minutes she would pipe up and Sam would bark back. But it was enough that I was getting nervous for dad’s reaction. He had had enough the moment it started.

“Guys, can we please just try to get through the next few hours without fighting?” I tried to encourage before dad could say anything. They should have known better by now. Dad doesn’t take well to bickering. Especially when it’s unnecessary.

“He keeps getting on my side!” Ana defended. “And since when do you have a problem with Sammy, huh? He doesn’t seem to be bothering you.” I defused. “It’s hot in here and he’s making it worse!” She fought back again. I turned my head to glance at her with a warning look. She never talked back to me. Never. I did notice what seemed to be a glaze of sweat on her forehead, plastering her little ginger bangs to her face. I turned up the AC and pointed it toward the back.

“You are the only thing making things worse, Anastasia! Now stop bickering. I will not ask again.” Dad finally demanded. I was surprised, I expected worse. They was quiet for a moment before we heard a muttered “yes sir…” from them both.

We didn’t hear another peep out of them for about an hour, until there was a muffled “Sammy?” from her side of the car. “What?”, he still sounded agitated. “Could you come here please?…” she asked gently. I fought the urge to turn at look at her in confusion. “Why?” Sam asked, seeming slightly less annoyed, but still weary, as if it was a trap. “I’m cold…”. Her voice was soft and sweet as ever. She sounded a few years younger than she already was.

I heard Sam sigh slightly and shift over so she could lay her head on his shoulder. “You feeling okay?” he asked quietly, I could just hear it over dad’s music. She either didn’t answer, or simply nodded, because I never heard her confirm or deny. He should have asked her again. He should have known better than to trust a Winchester when asked about their well-being. But even if he did, she would have said she was okay since dad was in the car. She’d never admit anything other than “I’m okay” when he’s around. He didn’t ask again, and she slept soundly on his shoulder for the rest of the drive.

When we arrived at our destination, some town in Michigan, we all silently unpacked the car and made our way into the dingy motel room. Well, all but one. Even with all the movement around her, Ana didn’t stir. This was rare for her, she was usually the first one out of the car. “Wake your sister up. I need the car.” dad ordered. I was quick to obey, and went back over to her side of the car.

“Hey munchkin.” I said softly, shaking her gently. She didn’t budge. I moved my hand to push a piece of her hair behind her ear, and noticed an unusual warmth that hadn’t been there that morning. I laid my hand across her forehead, having to move her little bangs out of the way, and confirmed a slight fever, which would explain her irritability in the car and her fluctuating between being hot and cold. “Ana?” I tried again. When she still didn’t stir, I slid an arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and pulled her out of the car. Light as a feather.

“Don’t baby her, son.” dad barked at me as I entered the room carrying her. “I think she’s sick, dad. That’s probably why she was so grouchy earlier.” I explained, easing her only one of the two beds. “If she’s sick, she can toughen up and tell me, the same way I taught you boys.” he griped, before kicking the side of the bed she was on. “Anastasia. Up. Now.” She groaned slightly before fluttering her eyes open and peering up at him. Her eyes were hazy as she tried to blink herself awake. “Yes sir?” she muttered. “You know the rules about sleeping the day away. You slept in the car. Up. Help the boys get settled.” She just nodded sleepily and rose to her feet.

“Dad.” Sam started. “I don’t want to hear it, Samuel.” he shut him up. “She knows the rules. She’s fine.” Ana moved through the room as if she couldn’t hear them. She barely seemed awake. “No, dad.” Sam fought back. This wouldn’t end well. “No, she’s not fine, and she shouldn’t have to know the rules. She’s six, dad. Look at her! She’s clearly sick. You should be the first one to notice, you’re her father!” he spit out bravely. Dad turned on his heal. “Are you questioning my parenting, son?” Sam just stood up a bit taller and glared at dad. The balls on this kid sometimes…

Meanwhile, Ana came and stood next to me, almost cowering behind me. “De?..” she whispered. “Yes sweetheart?” I answered, trying not to get between dad and Sam. “Is dad leaving soon? I don’t feel good.” she asked quietly. Not quiet enough.

The room fell silent. Even the clock on the wall seemed to stop ticking. Dad turned toward us and walked over to me slowly. “Oh?” he said calmly. “That’s how this goes?” I swallowed nervously. “I leave, and then the two of you coddle her like she’s still an infant, huh?” he asked, almost smiling. I think I liked it more when he was yelling. “No, sir.” I piped up. There was a silent beat where I almost thought he would drop it. Then he was holding the collar of my shirt in his first. “Don’t forget who raised you, boy.” He got in my face. “You two backstabbing teens better remember your place in this family.” He let go of me at the end of his sentence and turned to Ana. “If you’re hurt, you tell ME. You tell your FATHER. And if I say you’re fine, then you are FINE. Do you understand me?” He barked down at her. She nodded her little head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that.” he demanded like a drill Sargent. “Yes sir.” She answered boldly. “I’m fine, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” “Damn right you’re sorry.” he said, pushing past me and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be down the street at the library working a case. And if I come back and find you two coddling her, we’re going to have a much bigger problem. Get those guns cleaned, Dean, and Sam get this room warded. That’s a direct order.” He finished, slamming the door behind him.

Sam slammed his bag down on the bed in frustration. “Sammy, you got the sigils?” I asked. He didn’t answer, but I knew he would get to work as he sauntered off to grab something from one of the bags. I crouched down to Ana. “Are you okay, sweet pea?” She nodded, “yes sir.” “I’m not sir, sweetheart, I’m just Dean.” I said softly, pushing her hair back and feeling her forehead again. She nodded again, her eyes looking slightly watery, but never shedding a tear. “I don’t feel good, Dean.” “I know, sweetheart. C’mon, let’s get you in bed.” I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom to get her ready for bed. It ended up being a long night, dad didn’t come home until the early hours of the moment, most likely spending most of his night at the pub down the street, as a way to get away from us for a few hours. Ana was up and down a lot that night, poor thing had nothing left in her system to throw up, just spent the night sweating and dry heaving, and clinging onto me like a koala. I was glad for once that dad wasn’t there. He would’ve told her not to move from her bed.

Incidentally, that was the last night that Ana ever got sick before dad disappeared. That was the last time she let me take care of her like that. That was the last time she ever told me she didn’t feel good.

She was six.

She’s almost sixteen now.”

#dean winchester #john winchester #spn fanfic #spn oc #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles #sam and dean #sam winchester #winchester sister

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sssammich · 6 months

Text

ao3 wrapped fic writer 2023

i know ao3 wrapped for readers is not a thing and frankly as impressive as it would be to see just how many millions of words i have read this past year, i don't know if i need to know just how much i hung around in the devil's sacrament shown back to me, ya know?

so i instead just wanna celebrate and focus on all the writing i was able to do this year up to nov 30 (today). this is just for posted stuff on ao3, obviously my wips folder (aka my lazy susan of drafts) is a different story LOL.

also, super important for me to point out: this is meant for celebration and pride! after having been on hiatus from writing for like 7 years, i'm so happy to be able to get back into writing again. with that said, if the numbers for your ao3 isn't as high as you'd liked, please just know that i'm still very proud that you wrote AND published your work to share with others. it can and does take a lot out of you to write and share freely like this. so if nothing else, you should know that! (and if you haven't written much at all this year for whatever reason, i'm still proud of you! like i said, it's tough sometimes but we should still celebrate ourselves)

if you're a writer and see this and want to play along, feel free to just copy and paste. there's no tagging because i wouldn't wanna put people on the spot/make someone uncomfortable. ok onwards etc etc

2023 ao3 stats portion

basically this part is just taken straight out of your stats page for 2023

kudos: 3,182

comment threads: 352

bookmarks: 688

subscriptions: 359

word count: 212,514

total fics posted: 16

general writing portion

fandoms and ships i wrote for this year:

Revue Starlight: tendou maya/saijou claudine, amemiya shion/masai kiriko, isurugi futaba/yanagi koharu

Supergirl: kara danvers/lena luthor, kara danvers/lena luthor/sam arias

RWBY: yang xiao long/blake belladonna

2. top fics with the most word count (complete and in-progress):

not for nothing (54,371 words) kara danvers/lena luthor

homecoming (28,662 words) yang xiao long/blake belladonna

sam's supercorptober 2023 entries (21,538) kara danvers/lena luthor

[...hope springs eternal] (17,352 words) isurugi futaba/yanagi koharu

fate or something like it (16,874 words) tendou maya/saijou claudine

3. events (big bangs, challenges, etc) i participated in (if you didn't participate in any, what are events you've enjoyed seeing this year?):

supercorp big bang: not for nothing (with lovely art from midnightechoes)

bumbleby big bang: homecoming (with lovely art from bumblebydyke)

supercorptober 2023 (i have one more prompt left! it'll be done this year i promise to myself lol)

4. top fics in order of how emotionally compromised i was in writing them:

evergreen

re:live

not for nothing

homecoming

[...hope strings eternal]

5. top fics i would love more readers to get their eyeballs on because i think they're neat (this is just me getting people to read more of my stuff LMAO):

[through smoke and velvet...] AND [...hope springs eternal] isurugi futaba/yanagi koharu

heart's devastation yang xiao long/blake belladonna

sam's supercorptober 2023 entries (particularly chapters 4, 5, and 6 lol but i think they're all neat) kara danvers/lena luthor

re:live tendou maya/saijou claudine

the view, it is so lovely amemiya shion/masai kiriko

OKAY this is pretty long so sorry to your dashboards but that was kinda fun and im proud of everything i've worked on and i hope you are also proud of yourself for all the stuff you've worked on! ok thx love u bye

#fic writing meme #ao3 wrapped writing #idk how to tag this #long post #i guess #lolol after this i'll be thinking about my 2024 writing goals #but for now hooray to me #and to you also

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oh-munda-kukkad-kamaal-da · 1 year

Note

I saw a man hit his wife today,

He grabbed her by the neck and threw her to the side;

I saw a man hit his wife today,

And I think there is something about it I must write.

He pushed her inside his little hut,

And threw her on the floor;

He growled, he screamed,

And then he banged the door.

I don't know what happened to her,

I didn't stop long enough,

I rushed past the scene,

But stayed long enough to see-

The lady didn't mind it,

It wasn't her first time.

The lady just shrugged her shoulder,

It was no big deal to her, let alone it being a crime.

It's just a slap,

Just a blow on the face;

It's your husband's attack,

It's not the end of the race.

It's so simple,

So easy to hit a lady,

And it's actually so simple,

Theres absolutely nothing shady.

I have seen men hit their wives,

And sons hit there wives,

And when those sons see there mother's get hit,

They realise her strives.

The damage is done,

The first slap on the face was proof enough,

But when you don't stop them right there,

It spreads like the plague.

Why do you hit your wife?

Why do you slap them and beat them up?

What if they scarred you for everytime you hit them,

And even then it wouldn't fill your cup.

Is it really just a blow?

Just a hit, just a slap?

When instead of using your hands for that,

For her struggles you could just clap?

She isn't your punching bag,

She isn't your gym;

What would you do if,

Your son's wife hit him?

Would you tell him to adjust,

To make peace like it's just a political war?

When it truth its much more than that,

It's an entire life's scar.

What is it, being a woman, you ask?

How does it feel to live?

Well I would feel ashamed,

If a son of mine would keep his wife like this- dead yet alive.

~a.Hussain

What do you think? I wrote it based on a real life incident i saw on my way to school

Its beautiful. You wrote that?

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dandelion-wings · 1 year

Text

While Bennett's Vision acquisition doesn't go as differently from canon as Kaeya's in the Adventurer Kaeya AU, I was kicking the framing circumstances around first while barnsitting this weekend and then with @theabysscomeshome this afternoon, and sketched out something that... kind of matches what I wrote here! I'm being deliberately vague and squishy with ages, but for some clarity, Kaeya is an older teenager and just well behind Diluc and Jean here because he did not have Crepus' tutoring resources for the non-combat parts of the knight trials, while Bennett... was supposed to be a little younger than his voice here ended up sounding. I am bad at writing children. ;; But we don't have actual canon on the age gap anyway, right?

(Also I half-assed a lot of this because I was mostly writing it for the last scene anyway. >> That is the freedom of banging these out as Tumblr one-offs instead of trying to write a longer coherent fic!)

---

ETA: now available on AO3.

---

"Oof!" Bennett hits the ground harder than he thinks Kaeya had expected, twisting his ankle as he ducks away from Kaeya's unexpected back-strike and overbalancing.

Kaeya drops his sword and rushes over to help Bennett up, kneeling down and letting Bennett lean on his shoulder as he prods at the injured ankle. "Whoops. I didn't mean to knock you all the way over."

"It's okay," Bennett assures him, testing the ankle and wincing when he puts his weight on it. "Um, mostly. But I can walk on it!"

He lets go of Kaeya and takes a step to demonstrate, wincing again but refusing to falter. Picking up his sword, he limps over to the side of the Guild's practice ring, where a couple of their dads are watching. He's going to have to be done for today.

"Sorry," Kaeya says, grabbing his own sword and following after. "Not a bad move, though, was it?"

"It was great! I didn't see it coming at all."

"You've been practicing that one on your own, haven't you?" one of their dads asks, looking thoughtfully at Kaeya. "You didn't get it from any of us."

"No. It's… something I remembered seeing my father do once or twice." Kaeya's voice goes quiet, the way it always does when he mentions his old dad, the one who dumped him. Not that he likes to admit that--it's one of the only things he'll get angry at Bennett about, if Bennett slips up and calls it dumping--but their dads have all said so at some point or another. "I thought it might be a useful trick to pull out next week at the knight trials."

"Well, you should try it on someone full-sized, and not a little shrimp like Benny," another of their dads says, clapping Kaeya on the shoulder with a grin. "Come on, let's go a couple rounds."

"Okay," Kaeya says, and follows their dad back out into the ring.

"Hey, Benny, you want a better view?" Without waiting for an answer, his nearest dad scoops Bennett up and sets him on the wall around the ring, then hops up to sit beside him, one hand on Bennett's back to make sure he won't fall backward.

Normally Bennett would enjoy the high-up view, but the moment Kaeya had mentioned the knight trials his good mood at seeing his big brother pull off such a cool move had plummeted. This is going to be the third time Kaeya goes for them, because he's determined to be a knight. Not an adventurer like their dads, even though that's so much better. And Bennett knows there's no way he'd ever make the knight trials even if he wanted to be a knight, which he doesn't. He doesn't understand why Kaeya wants it so badly.

"If he fails the trials this time, do you think he'll give up?" he asks quietly, leaning into his dad's side. He doesn't mean for that to come out hopeful, but he can't hide that he's kind of wishing for it.

"Maybe, maybe not," his dad says, looking down at him. "That's up to Kaeya. You know how badly he wants to succeed."

"Yeah," Bennett says despondently.

"You know he won't be any less your big brother if he becomes a knight, right? He loves you just as much as we do. Having a different job won't change that."

"I know that. But…." Bennett isn't sure how to explain the tangle of feelings in his chest every time he thinks about Kaeya in the Knights. Being away from home even more than he is as an apprentice knight, going off on missions, busy all the time--too busy for Bennett. "What's wrong with being an adventurer like you guys? That's what I'm going to be!"

"There's nothing wrong with it. And you're going to be a great adventurer someday." His dad ruffles his hair. "But there's nothing wrong with being a knight, either. And hey, maybe by the time you're old enough to join the Guild, Kaeya will have gotten bored with the Knights and all their rules and regulations and will want to sign up with your adventuring team instead."

"Maybe," Bennett says, brightening. It's true that if Kaeya stays in the Knights for a while, then he won't have a chance to start his own team, and Bennett can beat him to it. He'd have to join Bennett's then.

"There's that bright Benny smile." His dad ruffles his hair, chuckling. "Make sure you bring that next week when we go to cheer him on, okay?"

"Okay," Bennett says. His dad is already looking away, down at the fight in the ring, so he doesn't try to plaster the smile on as it slowly fades at the thought, once again, of the trials. The notion his dad had spun is only a thin comfort. If Kaeya does pass the trials, why would he give up on his dream after so much work? Bennett wouldn't. And watching Kaeya land a touch on their dad in the ring below, Bennett is glumly sure that this time, he is going to pass. And Bennett is going to have to cheer for him when he does.

He really, really doesn't want to.

***

By the day of the trials a week later, Bennett has all his justifications lined up and solid, the way Kaeya has taught him to prepare excuses before he even runs the risk of getting caught. He's bad luck, and everyone knows that. Their dads have taken him to cheer Kaeya on through the last two trials, and Kaeya has failed both of them. Maybe it was Bennett's luck rubbing off that made him fail. And if it was, maybe Bennett's absence will help him win, finally.

The logic of that is a little too solid, and Bennett spends a few miserable hours contemplating whether he's the reason his big brother is still an apprentice knight instead of a full one after he thinks of it. But that does make him even more determined not to be at the trials. It could be that he really will help Kaeya win with his absence. Either way, he doesn't want to have to watch Kaeya try.

None of their dads would buy it, though, and Bennett knows all of them will go searching when they realize he's not ready that morning. There's enough of them to scour the whole city. To avoid the knight trials, Bennett has to be outside of it. Which means he gets to finally do something he's been anticipating a lot more than he has the knight trials. He's going to go on an adventure, a real adventure, all on his own.

Maybe not a real adventure by the Guild's standards. He knows Katheryne won't give him a commission, so it won't be Guild business, and he won't get paid for it. That's fine. One of his dads had come back from a commission to Old Mondstadt last month with a story of a ruin that had been full of puzzles and treasure, one he'd only gotten to explore halfway before the scholar who'd hired him declared herself done studying the mechanisms and dragged him home. It's full of monsters, too, but Bennett has the sword his dads bought him for his last birthday. It's time to test it out.

His journey to Old Mondstadt starts before dawn, but it's nearly noon by the time he gets there. A rockfall in the canyon, a hilichurl ambush he'd had to run from rather than fight because he couldn't get up the cliffs to the archers, getting frozen by some Cryo slimes by the lake… he's used to those kinds of delays, though, and he's not willing to be phased. None of the arrows hit him anywhere he couldn't patch up, and the sun is warm and bright enough that he's finally getting dry by the time he descends into Old Mondstadt.

The knight trials start at noon, so his dads have probably given up on finding him by now in favor of heading to the trials. They won't be finished until well in the evening. Bennett just has to get back before midnight so that nobody panics. He'll be in a lot of trouble, but if Kaeya passes, probably everyone will be too happy about that to care. Especially once he explains that he was just taking his bad luck to where it couldn't get in Kaeya's way.

With that glum thought in mind, he plunges into the ruins his dad had mentioned, not far from the entrance to Old Mondstadt. The puzzles are hard, and he wishes Kaeya was here, but his dad had done half of them already, and he'd explained the principles behind them while he was telling his story. They're not impossible for Bennett to figure out. All the treasure chests have been opened already, even the ones behind undone puzzles, but… probably those just reset after his dad left. There's going to be really good treasure at the end of this, Bennett is sure of it.

Down one level, then another, and the really good treasure still doesn't show. On the third level down, though, he finds a promising puzzle, way bigger and more elaborate than the other ones. It takes him over an hour to figure out all the way--he keeps accidentally resetting the switches, which doesn't help--but finally it finishes, and a door opens. Bennett rushes forward, grinning, and then finds himself thrown backwards with a yelp as a horde of hilichurls comes rushing out.

It's a rough fight. A very rough fight, and that's by Bennett's standards. He knocks back one hilichurl after another, darts in to slash through samachurls, ducks the heavy shields and axes of mitachurls and even manages to pop up under their guard the way Kaeya has taught them, but there are so many, and they just keep coming. He wishes his dads were here. He wishes Kaeya was here, the way he should be, adventuring with Bennett--but he isn't, and Bennett is going to have to do this alone. And he will. Bennett drives forward with renewed vigor even as hilichurl clubs batter him and bolts burn and freeze him and a whirling axe carves a deep line in his side. He knows it's bad to be losing this much blood. But he got this far, and he can't stop now. Giving up will just get him killed for sure.

At last, he manages to get behind the last mitachurl, copying Kaeya's move the best he can, and as his sword strikes deep the creature vanishes in a puff of smoke. Then the last samachurl, diving through its thorny vines to slash across its front, and the last two hilichurls with one wide strike, and suddenly he's alone in the middle of the puzzle chamber, staring at the still-open door. Beyond, he can see a hefty chest, white paint flaking from ancient metal, gold covered with grime.

Dizzy but triumphant, free hand clasped over his bleeding side, Bennett sheathes his sword and staggers towards the chest. Whatever's in here, he'll bring home, and then their dads will be proud of both of them, Bennett coming back rich from his first adventure the same day that Kaeya finally becomes a knight. He grins broadly as he wedges his fingers under the lid and flips it open.

There's nothing within. Only a few old scraps of cloth that dissolve quickly to dust when the air hits them, and some rusty buckles underneath. Bennett stares down, the grin sliding from his face. Nothing. All that, and there's nothing here? He knows his luck is bad, but….

He shouldn't be surprised. All of his dads have talked about running across this now and then. It isn't just his bad luck. This is part of being an adventurer, his dads have always said--sometimes you get a big score in the course of exploration or a commission, but sometimes you come home empty-handed. The important part is the adventure itself, either way. And he's definitely had an adventure today. Bennett looks down at the wound in his side, his shirt sodden with blood and his hand streaked with red, and forces another grin.

This is still his first adventure. An empty chest doesn't rob him of that. As he folds gracelessly down to the floor, barking his chin on the chest as he goes, the world going blurry and grey all around him, he thinks, with some wonder at the truth of it: he doesn't mind.

***

When he wakes, his wounds are sealed with blisters and charring, and there's something hot and pulsing like his own heart in his hand. Bleary with pain, he's not even quite sure what he's holding, only that it's something he should hold on to, something precious, something he keeps clutched to his chest as he staggers out of the ruins and into the encroaching chill of night.

Somehow he makes it back up onto the bridge leading into Old Mondstadt and down the long road to the winery region south of Wolvendom. The path through the canyon back to the city seems impossibly daunting, especially in the dark, but Bennett staggers on, still holding the hot throbbing thing in his hand. He seems to stumble over every rock and bush on either side of the path as he weaves from side to side, but through the blur of his teary eyes, he does spot the movement ahead. Stepping back, he puts a shaky hand to the hilt of his sword.

"Bennett!" Kaeya's voice rings out before he can draw it, high and urgent, nearly cracking as he rushes forward to yank Bennett into his arms.

"Kaeya? What are you doing here?" It's hard to talk, his tongue heavy in his mouth, but Bennett forces the words out. "You should be celebrating… winning the trials…."

"You really thought I was going to take the trials while you were missing?" Kaeya twists around before Bennett can process that, still holding him close as he shouts over his shoulder. "Over here! I found him. He's hurt- oh, what is this?"

Bennett feels Kaeya's fingers prying his own apart and doesn't resist, letting him take the precious jewel he's been clutching. It's important, he knows that even through the haze of pain, but he can trust Kaeya with it. He can trust Kaeya with anything.

Including his weight, as he feels unconsciousness encroaching once again. He slumps into Kaeya's chest, pressing his face against his shoulder, and lets his big brother hold him up. There's more shouting and ruckus around him, the familiar voices of some of his dads, with Kaeya's softer, cooler tones winding through them. Kaeya hefts him up over his shoulder, assuring their dads that he's got him, and that's the last that Bennett is aware of for some time.

***

Bennett is confined to a bed in the cathedral for five days. He doesn't remember most of it except as vague blurs; his wounds had been cauterized by what his dads proudly tell him is a Vision, but the sisters tell him that burns are easy to infect, and he'd taken a fever on the way home. He sleeps uneasily, plagued by uncomfortable dreams. Every time he wakes, at least one of his dads is there.

Sometimes Kaeya is there too, his hand cool on Bennett's forehead. He's there when the fever breaks at last and Bennett awakes with his head finally clear. Two of their dads are there, too, a little semi-circle of chairs around the bed. His dads are awake, one of them knitting, the other reading a book, but Kaeya is asleep, slumped onto one dad's shoulder, clinging to his arm like he's way too old to do awake. His eyepatch is off, and there's an ugly bruise around the eye, gone yellow and purple with age.

He wakes as soon as Bennett stirs, patting their dad's jacket down for his eyepatch and pulling it on again with a familiar muttered complaint about how it's fine to sleep in, really, before turning to smile down at Bennett with a superior air that doesn't hide his relief. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Bennett says, pushing himself up into a sitting position against the pillow. "What happened to your eye?"

One of their dads sighs.

"You weren't supposed to see that." Kaeya shoots a glare at the dad who had taken off his eyepatch, then turns back to Bennett and shrugs. "But it's no big deal. Captain Ragnvindr got me while my guard was down."

"He what?" Bennett stares aghast, his hands clenching into fists in his lap. "He got in trouble for it, right? A captain of the knights shouldn't go around hitting people. Unless- was he who you had your match against in the trials?"

"I told you, I didn't take the trials. And no, he didn't get in trouble. He told the Grand Master he only hit me because I punched Captain Gunnhildr first."

"What?" Now Bennett is just confused. "Why would you punch Captain Gunnhildr? I thought you said she was nice."

Their other dad snorts behind his hand.

"I only thought so because she gave me some tips for the trials. But the last time I came to visit you, I found Barbara crying in the store room because she refused Barbara's invitation to do something for her birthday. So I told her what I thought of her as a big sister, and I didn't like her response." Kaeya shrugs again.

"Aw, crud." Bennett would probably have punched her too--okay, he wouldn't have, she's a knight captain and a Gunnhildr and she has been nice to him the two times he's come by the Ordo to see Kaeya and run across her there, but he can understand why Kaeya would. Kaeya takes being his big brother seriously. He wouldn't be impressed by someone else making their little sister cry. "You're not in too much trouble, are you?"

"Well." Kaeya leans back in his chair, smirking at Bennett. "Turns out the Grand Master didn't think that was a good reason to punch one of his precious Gunnhildrs, especially after I failed the last two trials and skipped this one. But you don't need to worry about me. Our dads are helping me fill out my application to the Guild."

Bennett knows he should feel bad for Kaeya. He really, really should. But all he can feel is a warm glow of delight, echoed by his Vision, tucked under his thigh amid the covers, blazing bright. "That's great! I mean, that's great you have a back-up. I know you wanted to be in the Knights."

"If Gunnhildr and Ragnvindr are the sort of knight they make captains, it's probably for the best," Kaeya says easily, waving a dismissive hand. "I'll be better off in the Adventurer's Guild. Plus I've been talking to Barbara's dad about helping out part-time in the Church. I won't progress through the Guild as quickly, but it seems like a good idea to know some of the basics of medicine before I join your adventuring team."

"Won't it be the other way around? It's gonna be another two years before I can join the Guild. You'll be senior enough to start your own team first."

"I don't know about that. Even if I get accepted this month, I haven't been on my first adventure yet." Kaeya smiles conspiratorially at Bennett. "It only seems fair that I follow a more experienced adventurer's lead, doesn't it?"

Even knowing Kaeya is only saying it to make him feel good, Bennett can't help but grin back. "We're going to be the best adventuring team ever! I can't wait."

"We are," Kaeya agrees. "It's too bad I won't get to be Sir Kaeya, but really, I think Kaeya of Benny's Adventure Team has a much better ring to it."

#benny kaeya and the seven dads #fic bits

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