#this one was fun to write

[januaryrabbit]

how seventeen would act around their s/o while drunk heheee

pairing: seventeen x gn reader, established relationship, fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: alcohol, cursing, mentions of sleeping over and physical affection w/ the boys but it’s meant in a fluffy context, not a suggestive/mature one!

other disclaimers: lowercase intended, probably typos, setting is hanging out with all the boys and with you!!!!!

a/n: i just realized in my wip post i said "crush" instead of "s/o"........WOOPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUT ANYWAY hello everyone, i’m finally back with another post! i;m sorry for the very long hiatus, i p much always have something going on in my life lol @-@ but i have time now to actually write!!! i hope you enjoy this one hehe -mina

✩‧₊˚clingy drunks:

mingyu: this man will not leave you alone. he is in love with you. and he’s cheesy! in a sweet way :) will kiss your hand every few mins, lean on you, or put his arm around you so you lean on him hehe. i think he would also want you to reciprocate the clinginess too hehe,,,it makes him feel loved :3 i can see him moving your hand to his hair to ask you to play with it, and if you stopped, he would just take your hand and put it back in his hair LOl. he strikes me as someone who would take care of you (kinda like how he takes care of drunk hoshi hehe) and makes sure you're ok, even if he's drunk himself :]

seungcheol: omg omg HES GOING TO DOTE ON YOU SO MUCH!!! “jagi are you ok” “jagi do you need water” “jagi i’ll walk you to the bathroom, be careful”...he doesn’t realize that he himself is wobbling around and spilling water, LMAO. he just wants to help his baby!!! would def ask where you’re going if you get up, ask you to stay over with him, etcetc. would always have an arm around you and constantly LOL. would also go on a random rant about how protective he is of you HAHAHA!! like “Y/N . IF ANYONE MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. TELL ME RIGHT AWAY . I WILL DEFEND YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH  EVEN IF IT’S MY OWN FRIENDS I DONT CARE WHO I HAVE TO BEAT UP (svt: BRO WTF?????) . GOD I LOVE U SOMUCH .” pls give him some water and a kiss!!!

junhui: i don’t think he’d necessarily be like talkative or doting, but i think he’s the type to just want to be around you and would sit really close to you :3 he almost gives me like Protective Bf vibes in the way that he’d just wanna be by your side to make sure you’re feeling ok too. plus, junnie just likes your company! i can picture him sending a lot of smiles toward you every few minutes because he’s so happy you;re his partner and he feels so comfy with you next to him :) also he likes leaning his head on your shoulder and he WILL show you cat pics the entire night…..pls comment on all of them or he’ll get sad. he also gives me the vibes of someone who has lazy days with his s/o after a night of drinking hehe…napping, hotpot and movies :)))

✩‧₊˚loud/emotional/(verbally) affectionate drunks:

soonyoung: MESSY U WILL HAVE TO CARE HIM !!!! did you see him on lee youngji’s show?? so cuteeee :( he would just shower you w/ affection heheh. im picturing him hugging you from behind like how he hugged the ice in the youngji ep and he would nestle his head into the crook of your neck and reach over to kiss your cheek :3c he would announce like every 20min how much he loves you to the whole room like "THIS IS MY PARTNER I LOVE THEM VERY MUCH THANKS!!!" and would post blurry pics of the two of you on his story with typos "i lvoe tehfm sonmchch" HAHA!! youll definitely have to sober up to take care of him hehe. would definitely start crying bc he loves you so much and YOU have to comfort him……you and mingyu get him to the car that night because he can’t walk by himself. the next morning hes like babe that was so fun round 2 of drinking tonight???????????? (horanghae pose)

seungkwan: BRUH KWAN GETS INTO (JOKE) ARGUMENTS WHILE HE’S DRUNK I HAVE NO DOUBTS!!! 90% of the time he’s trying to pick a fight with mingyu or chan i just know it I KNOW IT TO BE TRUE!! but with his s/o, i think he’s the type to be like HONEY THIS ONE IS FOR YOU and he starts belting a love ballad and singing directly to you HAHA!!! (vernon: why are u always trying to outsing everyone. no one else is singing.) seungkwan ignores vern’s comment and keeps going tho. he almost moves himself to tears by how much he loves you and how much love he’s pouring into his performance LOL. you tell him you love him too and that he doesnt have to sing VERY LOUDLY IN PUBLIC to profess his love !!! its not that serious pls sit down!!! and hes like MY LOVE FOR YOU IS SERIOUS . and that’s how you end up with a pouty and drunk kwan!!!!!!!!!

chan: oh my sweet chan,,he would just shower you with affection LMAO like “i love you. you’re amazing. you look so beautiful right now, you know that?” type of thing. he’s just the biggest simp hehe. i think hes also the type to just wanna have fun, he'd prob cheer you on if you took a shot like FUCK YEAH BABE GO OFF!!!! but i also think that he would be doing EVERYTHING for you. "i'll pour your shot!!!!! don't lift a finger SERIOUSLY!!!!!" asks you every 30min if youve had water. (you: yes. i had some 30min ago. when you GAVE ME SOME.) gets you snacks. if you needed to throw up he WILL hold your hair with a drink in the other hand (for him)!!!! he also helps you put your jacket on at the end of the night. it doesn't matter how drunk he is, he's firm on taking care of YOU!!! <3

✩‧₊˚(physically) affectionate drunks:

wonwoo: he’s all smiles for you hehe. clings onto your arm whenever you’re near him. he wouldn't be too loud or anything, but i think he'd shyly whisper compliments to you now and then about how you look nice or how much he loves you. i think he’d be one of the more chill people, he just feels happier than usual bc of the alcohol hehehhe. usually, wonu is pretty good at keeping himself composed when you show him affection. but when he’s drunk, i think he’d react a little more…he strikes me as someone who’s more verbally/physically affectionate when it’s just you two, but around friends/family he tones it down. but when he’s drunk i think he would be comfortable having you sit on his lap or having an arm around you <3

jihoon: i am convinced lee jihoon is a different man when he’s drunk!!!!!!!!!  i have a hot-ish take when it comes to drunk uji…omg woozi would SOOOO open up physically and emotionally to you..and he’d be the type to always, Always have an arm around your waist and constantly hold your hand, looking at you with a smile that leads all the way up to his eyes. he’s someone who has dealt with a lot in his life, but in this moment, he’s so grateful to be here with his friends, and someone he loves that also loves him for who he is. the reason i think he’d be like this is juts because like. he doesn’t drink much, but when he does, feelings he’s been keeping to himself finally come up to the surface. also his face, neck and ears are constantly bright red because of the alcohol LOL. but ALSO they'd be red the next day when he realizes how he behaved in front of you hehe…. don't tease him too much about it or he'll die of embarrassment!

seokmin: dont ask me why bc idk but i think he would ruffle your hair constantly because youre so cute. then he would get distracted and talk to the bros for a bit, look at you again and remember how cute you are and ruffle it again sorry i dont make the rules!!!!!!! dk is definitely the loud/funny drunk hehe…hes the type to be giggly/try to make everyone laugh :) but i think he’d definitely try to make you laugh the most !! mostly in terms of physical affection though, i think he’d just dote on you a lot…like you know in the dingo video how he kept kissing woozi??? yeah he does that to you. along with the hair ruffles. and the attempts to get you to laugh. good luck. you’re going to drown in affection from this man LOL. 

✩‧₊˚happy/chill drunks:

vernon: HE WILL CARE YOU this man is all vibes. he’s just here to have a good time lol. you’ll probably be the drunk one who needs to be taken care of :3 but if he was somehow convinced to get really drunk, i think he would still just be vibes. but happier vibes. i think he would just laugh at everything and keep a hand constantly on your knee heheh. also i think he would encourage seungkwan’s antics more when he’s drunk i’m just saying .

minghao: minghao is just relishing in the moment of enjoying his time with his friends and partner~ he doesn't strike me as someone who drinks much, kinda like vernon. he'd be more focused on having a good time with everyone! i think he's the type to have hangover remedies ready for you at home for the next day. i think he would also be the type of bf to know when to cut you off LMAO like “y/n’s had 4 shots….hyung STOP pouring them another one!!!!!!!!” he just seems like he'd be prepared to take care of his partner :) you're so lucky!! he’s also the type to observe you and take pictures/videos if you’re doing something funny while you’re drunk LMAO!!!!

joshua: josh is a giggly drunk i have no doubts. also in the dingo video that man was RED af!!! would probably be like “im fine im SO SOBER RIGHT NOW…BABE TELL THEM HOW SOBER I AM!!!” he is not sober. i also think he would be the type to compare hands with you LMAO. you’re just like ???? you know how big both our hands are???? you’re literally my bf???? and hes like I JUST WANTED TO CHECK OK!!! tbh he seems so fun to be around LMAO like he on the way to the hangout hes like “babe lets match each other if u drink i drink” and ur like HELLO SIR???????? WHO IS DRIVING US HOME?????? (jeonghan does and he sleeps over.)  he just wants to have FUN and let loose with the homies and his partner!!!! consequences are for TOMORROW, y/n!!!!!! (he might start sulking if you don’t agree to match him but it’s fine you both know your limits hehe)

jeonghan: i see him as someone who doesn’t go too wild when drinking. kinda like vernon and minghao, i think he’s more there for vibes than getting fucked up lol. if anything, he’s doting on you because he finds you so cute, especially when you’re drunk hehehe. HE would be the one to ask you to do aegyo or something and when you do he just dies of cuteness lmao. i think he would also tease you in silly ways, like convincing you that he and s.coups are actually long lost brothers who found each other in college, or that seungkwan is a natural blonde. and of course you believe him which is the funniest shit ever to him!!!! LMAO!!!!! your shock and wonder at his blatant lies is the cutest thing to him. don’t worry tho he’ll tell you the next day nothing he said was true, except for when he said he loves you :)

#AND SHE POSTS AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #going to get watermelon tea to reward myself for my third post HAHAHHA #this one was fun to write #the way i started this months ago and wrote it on and off and NOW it's finally being posted LMAO!! #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fluff #s.coups x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #mingyu x reader #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader #rabbit writings #WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[baronessblixen]

I used a prompt from this list today: 10. “It’s alright, I’m here now.”

Diana/IVF angst (with a soft ending): Scully is already upset about a colleague's pregnancy and then Diana shows up and makes things worse. (wc: 1,549)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 3: The Deepest Cut

Those damn hormones.

Scully wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes, careful not to smudge her carefully applied make-up. It’s one thing to break down in the sanctity of her home. It’s entirely different to have it happen at work. There was no way to prepare herself. One moment she and Mulder were getting lunch and the next, everyone was congratulating Agent Winman on her pregnancy.

She felt Mulder’s hand on her back in the aftermath, a steady reminder that he was there for her. She doesn’t remember what she said to the other agent, but she must have said something. And then there was Diana. Who – even though she hardly knew the other woman – was the loudest and the most cheerful. Who, upon declaring that there’s nothing better than babies, looked straight at Mulder and winked.

Scully excused herself, pressing her untouched lunch into Mulder’s hand. She heard him try to ask if she was okay, but she wasn’t, and she knew she couldn't stay and explain. Because of the hormones. There won’t be a baby growing inside her, but her body is as quick to catch up as her brain. Her doctor told her it would take a while for her hormones to return back to normal. Right now, she’s losing her patience. She shouldn’t have tried. She shouldn’t have hoped. How silly of her. But how could she not have tied, not have hoped? A boy – or girl – with Mulder’s smile and his pouty lips. With a thirst for knowledge, a tender heart, and a stubborn head.

She looks at herself in the mirror, her cheeks rosy and full. And for what? Her dream child disappears and all that’s left is her own face and the tears that threaten to fall again.

“Get a grip,” she says to her reflection, wiping under her eyes. She can’t face Mulder like this. One look at her and he’ll know she cried. And she doesn’t have the strength to explain it to him. To shoulder his grief, too.

The door to the bathroom opens and Scully startles, trying to hide the tissues and every piece of evidence of her breakdown.

“Oh, Agent Scully.” There’s disdain in Diana Fowley’s voice as she says her name. Of all of the people in the Hoover Building, it has to be her. Of all the bathrooms she could have chosen, she walks in here, with a smirk on her face.

“Fox was wondering where you’d gone.”

“Just needed the restroom,” Scully says, turning on the water.

“Hmm. Isn’t it just wonderful news, though?” Scully remains quiet. “Agent Winman,” Diana explains needlessly. She’s just standing here, gloating. She doesn’t need the restroom at all. She must have followed her here. Bile rises in Scully’s throat.

“Wonderful news,” she says, turning away from Diana to dry her hands on a bunch of paper towels.

“You know,” Diana says wistfully, “I never thought I’d want children, but now I’m reconsidering it. All you need is the right man.” Her laugh sounds like a Rottweiler’s bark. “And I think I know who’d be perfect.”

“That’s great,” Scully says, trying to sound disinterested. Don’t say his name, she pleads. Don’t say his name. Just as she lifts her head and her eyes meet Diana’s, the other woman opens her mouth.

“Fox will make a great father, don’t you think?”

Will. Not would. As if she’s sure of it. As if she’s sure that she and Mulder will have children. Scully grabs the countertop and holds on tight. If she doesn’t, she might faint. Her dream child, the one with her nose and Mulder’s mouth disappears and is replaced by another one. That boy has Mulder’s mouth and his smile. Just like she’d always dreamed it. But he has Diana’s eyes, her dark hair, and her nose.

“Agent Scully? Did I say something wrong? You look pale.” Her voice drips with satisfaction.

“No, I’m fine,” she says. “I’m just-”

“You’re sad you can’t give him children, hm?” Scully’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh yes, I know. Everyone knows.” Another laugh. This one cuts even deeper and tears Scully’s insides apart. How does she know? How could she have possibly found out about her and Mulder doing IVF? Unless. No, it can’t be. Mulder wouldn’t have told her. Not this. Not her.

“And you know what, Agent Scully?” Her face is so close that Scully can smell her perfume. The unsubtle, expensive scent tickles her nose and makes her sick. “I can. I can give him children. I can be a mother.” Just as she says this, the door to the bathroom opens and Mulder’s head pops inside.

“There you are. I had a pretty embarrassing run-in with Skinner’s secretary just now. Scully, are you-” for the second time that day, she doesn’t let him finish his question, and runs off. She doesn’t care where she’s going, and she can’t see well. She lets the tears fall freely, not caring anymore.

*

“Hey, don’t run again, okay?” Mulder’s voice is soft and his steps toward her as timid. He looks as if he were trying to catch a scared kitten.

“I won’t,” she promises, trying to keep the tears at bay. It’s no use. The closer Mulder comes, the fast her walls crumble. By the time he puts his arms around her, she’s full-on crying.

“It’s all right,” he whispers into her hair. “I’m here now.” His words and his tenderness make her cry harder. She thinks of that night, of the glimmer of hope in his eyes before she told him that it hadn’t worked. That there wouldn’t be a baby. He held her all night, whispering things to her, trying to share his hope and his beliefs with her. Trying to make her see that once again he wouldn’t give up. That he’d shoot for the moon, try and catch it for her, make that miracle come true after all.

“What happened there?” he asks gently, stroking her hair. And she lets him. They’re at work and anyone could walk in. Diana Fowley could see them like this and report them. The thought makes her shiver which in turn makes Mulder draw her closer, his arms tightening around her.

“Mulder, I can’t-” What Diana said to her returns with a vengeance and she frees herself of Mulder’s embrace. He lets her go, his arms slipping away and hanging by his side as if useless when not holding her. “How did Diana know?” she asks out loud, her thoughts going too fast for her.

“How did Diana know what?”

“That I did IVF. That I can’t have children.” The surprise on Mulder’s face is genuine. He’s taken aback by her question and Scully feels almost guilty that she even suspected he’d say something to her.

“I- I have no idea, Scully. I didn’t tell her.”

“You didn’t.” She has to make sure.

“I swear to you I didn’t. What did she say to you? That got you so worked up.” He comes closer again and she lets him in.

“It doesn’t- it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he says, searching her face. “She said something that hurt you.”

“She said you’ll make a great father.” Mulder’s eyes narrow in confusion. “She, um, she wants to have children with you.” “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. She hates children. Maybe hate is a strong- no, she hates them. I remember her saying that once. She said she even hated children when she was a child herself.” Scully scoffs; she can see that.

“And hey.” She doesn’t dare look at him, but Mulder wouldn’t be Mulder if he didn’t try everything in his power. He tips up her chin. Her eyes are swimming with tears again – or still – but she sees the love in his eyes, in all of his face. They don’t need to exchange those three little words for her to know them, and to feel them deep inside.

“Even if she didn’t,” Mulder says. “Even if she loved children, even if she wanted a dozen of them… I don’t want any with her. That thought never even crossed my mind. I’ll talk to her and-”

“Don’t,” Scully says. “Please.”

“If that’s what you want.” She nods. “I’ll try to keep my mouth shut. You know how hard that is for me.” He gives her a sweet smile and she chokes out a laugh, too. Her sadness weighs heavily on her, but with Mulder here, it feels a bit lighter.

"I can't believe she'd say that to you. I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she says in a small voice knowing it's far from okay. She herself is far from okay. “I’m sorry that we-” He shakes his head, still smiling.

“Remember what I said?” As if she could ever forget it.

“Never give up on a miracle,” she repeats quietly, as if afraid to speak it out loud, to tempt fate once again.

“I won’t if you won’t.” He kisses her temple, letting his lips linger. Her eyes flutter close and she soaks in it all in. His words. His love for her. His unbending hope.

It doesn't matter what Diana says or does. She'll never have this. She'll never have Scully's Mulder.

#this one was fun to write #writing feels more like fun #at least it did yesterday and today #i better not jinx it #hope you guys like it too :) #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

[arecaceae175]

Sweets, Ravio and Hyrule (bet you thought I was going to say Legend), fluff!

Hyrule crept through the house as silently as he could. When he stepped over Wind, he stirred, and Hyrule froze.

After a tense moment, Wind turned over and fell back into a deep sleep.

Hyrule let out his breath and continued through the room. He got to the kitchen, and pressed on a secret door to get into the secret back room.

In the room, a figure in a purple hood stood shrouded in shadows.

“What have ye to offer the sweets dealer,” the voice said.

“Uh,” Hyrule said. He dug around in his pockets and pulled out the coolest rock he found that day.

“Cool rock?” Hyrule asked.

Ravio burst out of the shadows to inspect the rock.

“Yes, yes,” Ravio said. “This will do. It pleases the sweets dealer.”

“Yes!” Hyrule pumped a fist excitedly.

“You can take…. Three pieces!” Ravio said.

“Yes!”

#lololol I was expecting Legend #or wild #this one was fun to write #linked universe #ace writes #three sentence prompt #lu ravio #lu hyrule

[simplyavatrice]

be my lover don’t play no game - chapter two

--

Lilith has a strong, sharp jaw - Beatrice wonders if she could break it with one punch. “It was a mistake.”

“She clearly doesn’t think so.”

Cheap shot, but also…accurate. Ava was very clearly excited to see her and while Beatrice had to maintain her professionalism during the meeting, she’d be lying if she wasn't also glad to see her again as well.

Not that it matters. “It won’t be an issue.” Beatrice sets her briefcase down and starts unpacking it. There’s plenty of storage available in this room, she’ll be glad not to carry everything back and forth each day. “Since you’re apparently making me take the first floor tour-”

“I’m not dealing with your hook up all afternoon.”

Beatrice glares at her. “I will make it clear to her that we are going to be professional and I will do the job we were hired for.”

She watches Lilith’s cocky, obnoxious smirk fade just a little, watches her set her own things down on the big, rounded table in the center of the room. “It’s not you I’m worried about, Beatrice. I know you, I know you’ll do the job - I just think you need to be careful.”

“With what?”

Lilith gestures towards the door, as if to the entire hospital. “This place has some fairly strong ‘workplace home’ vibes. I got the sense that Dr. Superion is more of a mother figure to Dr. Silva than a boss - meaning if you upset her-”

“Dr. Silva is a grown woman.”

There’s a flicker of doubt in Lilith’s eyes. “She’s wearing duck socks.”

Yes, Beatrice noticed - they were kind of cute. “She’s quirky,” she can't help herself. “When I met her she was wearing a cowboy hat.”

Lilith’s face sours. “And you decided in that moment that you needed to fuck her in the bathroom?”

CONT ON AO3

#avatrice #avatrice fanfiction #avatrice au #warrior nun #warrior nun fanfiction #oh oh oh here we go #this one was fun to write #grown ups acting like teenagers #my favorite #reblogs appreciated <3

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptember 2023, Day 16

“Can I go home now?”

Young whumpee | Captive | Chains around the wrists

The Bee’s Whumptember Masterlist

~940 words

CW: CREEPY WHUMPER, kidnapping, noncon touch, implied future noncon? (it's kinda vague but jic)

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

“Please, please, I– I don’t know what’s going on–... What– what are you gonna do wi– with me?...”

Whumper looked down into the bright shining eyes of their platoon’s latest catch, their breath hitching so pretty as they trembled against the wall, holding their shackled arms protectively crossed over their ribcage. Like a dead man walking. How fitting.

Whumper slowly inched closer to their captive prey. They were so young too. Must have been the type to enroll as soon as they turned eighteen. “Calm down, sweet thing, we just want some information. This’ll all go easier if you just let go, it’s gonna happen one way or the other…”

Whumpee did the opposite of that. They pressed themself further into the wall, eyes darting around wildly looking for any, any escape, sinking into themself and curling into the tightest ball they could manage, chain clinking as it fell across their legs and winded around to an eyelet in the floor. They were literally chained to the floor. They squeezed their eyes shut as they buried their head in their knees, crying incoherently. “Please, please, stay away, don’t touch me, please I do-on’t wanna die PLE-E-E-EAS-SE!”

Whumper crouched down in front of Whumpee, examining them with shining eyes. Sure, they were only supposed to get some information out of them; where the troops were headed, what weapons they had, that sort of thing. But Whumper couldn’t resist an opportunity like this.

Whumpee flinched when they ran their fingers through Whumpee’s hair, scratching at their scalp in a way that might have been soothing in another context.

 “Oh, sweet thing… you’re not really helping your case right now, are you?” Whumper cooed, lilting their head understandingly. “But I suppose you can’t be helped. You’re so small, just a baby…”

“I– I-I’m no-o-ot,” Whumpee hitched. They tried to duck away from Whumper’s tender hand, only to let out a yelp when Whumper grasped their hair and slammed their head back into the wall.

“You are, though.” 

Whumper drove Whumpee’s head back again. Whumpee could practically see stars dancing across the darkness at the sides of their vision. “Maybe if you were bigger, you could have prevented this, hm? Maybe you could have stopped us from slaughtering all your friends… Hell, maybe you could have won! Bigger, tougher, stronger, what if, what if…” Whumper tapped Whumpee’s head with a single finger. 

“But seeing as you’re not, you’ll do as I say. So get up. ”

They didn’t move. The world fuzzed around them, everything a dark grey smudge. They sure felt small.

“Get up.”

Get away get away getawaygetawaygetawaygetawaygetawaygetaway.

“GET UP!” Whumper raised their fist and slammed it down on Whumpee’s head. Whumpee cried out, their entire vision turning red and static-y.

“You gonna get the fuck up now?”

Whumpee shot up stock straight, so fast that they stood over Whumper for a moment as they too stood up to their full height. Any small sense of victory that held was shattered as Whumper towered over them once more. Whumpee was small compared to them, huh? No, no, Whumpee was average, Whumper was the one that was the fucking freak.

Nonetheless, Whumpee stared right up into Whumper’s patronizing eyes. “Th-there, is that what you wanted?” they spat, almost managing to control their shaking voice. “Can I– Can I go home now-w?”

The request was meant to be sarcastic. Rude. Defiant. But just the thought of them being able to go home? Away from this hell hole and the psychos that captured them, the ones who only seemed to care about tormenting and hurting them instead of interrogating them? It made Whumpee’s jaw tremble.

Whumper chuckled darkly, and Whumpee had to fight the urge to shrink into a little ball again. Whumper slammed them back into the wall and pinned them with their forearm, face so close that Whumpee could taste their disgusting breath.

“Oh, you really are adorable, sweetheart… Shame I’ll probably have to kill you, no?” Whumper drawled, holding their gaze with a wicked smile. Whumpee made sure to shoot back every ounce of hatred they could muster. Whumper brought their other hand up and ran their fingers gently down the line of Whumpee’s jaw. “But hey, I’ve got you here now. Lets have some fun, yeah?”

Whumpee kicked Whumper in the shin as hard as they could and shoved them away almost on reflex. Whumper stumbled back with an angry shriek, and Whumpee ran. There was no fucking way they’d ever let that–

The chain binding their hands went taut and yanked Whumpee backward, sweeping them in such a way that they landed prostrated right at Whumper’s feet. Whumper stomped on the chain linking their hands together, and on two of their fingers in the process, tweaking their hand painfully between the binding manacles. Whumpee cried out, in equal parts from frustration, grief, and pain. They curled in around themself again, tears spotting the filthy floor underneath them.

“You need to be taught some manners when you’re around your superiors.” Whumper tutted, anger edging the very corners of their voice like Whumpee was a dog that just scratched them. They twisted the heel back and forth, grinding Whumpee’s hand into what felt like a fine paste under the chain. Whumpee could barely do more than gasp and choke on their own throat in an effort not to scream.

“Luckily, we have all the time in the world.” Whumper clutched a handful of Whumpee’s hair again and pulled up, making Whumpee’s back arch painfully as they forced their desperate captive to look straight into their twisted smile.

 ”Where I can do whatever I want with you.”

@whumptember

#whumptember2023 #whumptember day 16 #day sixteen: can i go home now #day sixteen: young whumpee #day sixteen: captive #day sixteen: chains around the wrists #whump #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #writeblr #military whump #ehehehe #this one was fun to write

[bookwormscififan]

The Phoenix

Read on AO3!

A/N: A fire burned down Mad and Mare's apartment, taking Mad with it. Just when Mare thought Mad was gone forever, the dark purple gem he'd given him began to glow. Basically I had this idea to align Mad with a phoenix.

Mare stared, mouth open, at the burning building before him.

He’d been out to a business meeting, whistling down the street after ensuring Mad would be safe alone. The meeting had gone terribly, and he walked home comforted by the idea of returning to Mad, who would make his day much better.

Then he’d seen the smoke. Rising into the sky above the apartment buildings in the street, the grey cloud swirled into the blue beyond. Mare was curious until he realised the smoke was coming from a few blocks away, in the direction of the apartment building where he lived with Mad.

He had run home with lightning speed, narrowly avoiding a few cars and pedestrians, to see the orange tongues licking at the walls of his apartment building, the largest flames appearing to come from the window of Mare and Mad’s apartment.

The horror of realising Mad could be in there, helpless, stuck Mare’s feet into the ground, and he raised a hand over his mouth as tears burned at the corners of his eyes. His eyes searched the crowds, scanning the faces in search of Mad, and a sob forced its way out of his throat when he couldn’t see him.

Mare whimpered as firefighters tried in vain to put out the fire, watching paramedics carry charred bodies from the wreckage. His heart ached as the floors were cleared, sounds of reporters muffled as his heartbeat drummed in his ears.

Finally, they brought the last person out, charred remains lying on a stretcher. Mare reached out blindly, looking past the burned skin for defining features, hands finding the purple gem clasped in the burned hand and letting the calm façade shatter as he reached the conclusion: this was Mad’s body, Mad was dead.

People told him the fire had started a floor above his apartment; someone had left the gas on and lit a match. The fire had quickly travelled through the building, engulfing everything in flames within an hour. By the time emergency services had reached their apartment, Mad had been in the fire too long to save.

They’d compensated Mare for everything that was lost to the fire, returning the ash-covered items that could be salvaged. While repairs were being worked on the building, Mare had been provided a place to stay, but he still returned to the building daily to grieve over Mad.

The purple gem began to glow a week after the fire. Mare felt the warmth seep into his skin before he saw the light, sitting up in bed with a gasp before running out of the room, tugging on his shoes before dashing out of the apartment.

He stood outside the apartment complex, breathing heavy as he slipped through a gap in the construction fence to get into the site. Digging his key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and swiftly climbed the many flights of stairs to his apartment.

The lock on the door had warped in the fire, but the builders had left it unlocked so they could repair the inside. Mare silently thanked the builders as he pushed the door open, stepping into the remaining soot and ash of the apartment.

“Mad?” He asked, voice quivering as he searched the area, heart aching at the sight of the destroyed furniture and decorations. He let out a whimper when he spotted the charred books in the bookshelf on the wall, once pale ash wood now blackened cinders.

The gem in his hand seemed to glow warmer as he turned toward their room, and his feet numbly traced a path through the remains of the apartment.

Mare hissed, dropping the gem when he entered their room, a purple burn marking his palm. Blowing on the blistered skin, Mare looked around the room, ignoring the wreckage of the place he found the most joy.

The burned hand moved to his jumping heart at seeing the shape under the black covers, stumbling through broken flooring to fall onto the bed, grasping desperately at the sheets to throw them off the mattress and uncover the pale expanse of skin curled in the centre.

“Mad,” he breathed, reaching forward to brush away dark hair from his forehead, letting out a breathless chuckle when Mad shifted, brows flickering before deep brown eyes opened, squinting in the dim light at Mare.

“Mare?” His voice was husky, like he’d breathed a lot of smoke, and laced with drowsiness. He lifted his hand, covered in ashes, and cupped Mare’s cheek, wiping his tears with his thumb and smearing ash over the skin.

Mare didn’t speak, lip trembling as he pressed his hands to either side of Mad’s head and pulled him up into a deep kiss, hands trailing down to Mad’s shoulders to pull him closer and deepen the kiss, feeling the flakiness of ashes all over his form.

“How did you…?” He gasped, breaking the kiss to look into Mad’s eyes. Mad smiled, a corner of his mouth pulling up slightly as he leaned back. His eyes searched the room, landing on the gem on the ground, and he pointed at it.

“That gem,” he began. “It allowed me to come back. I woke up here, where I’d died.” He looked at his hands, squished into the small space between them, watching as the ashes on his skin ignited, thin tongues of flame licking at the air around them.

“Fire…” Mare breathed, entranced by the sight, reaching forward to touch the flames, chuckling when he didn’t get burned.

“I won’t stay dead for long,” Mad stated, turning his hands before snapping his fingers and extinguishing the flames. “I keep coming back. I tested it the first time I came back: I died and came back. Mare, I think the gem made me immortal.”

Mare stared at the gem on the ground, frowning as he tried to understand what Mad was saying. He had given Mad the gem as a gift six months after they’d started dating, and it had always had some sort of emotional connection between them.

Mare, having some powers of his own, had always feared Mad dying. The gem, he assumed, must have interpreted his fears, and now Mad was alive again, potentially never to die.

“Like a phoenix…” he finished his thought in a whisper, gaze returning to Mad as a smile spread across his face. Before Mad could ask any questions, Mare grabbed his face again and brought him back into a kiss, holding him close before pulling away, laughing at his blush.

“My phoenix.” When Mad blushed again, Mare just kissed him more, pushing him down onto the bed and continuing to kiss him senseless.  

------

@brokentimewatch @iamvegorott

#writing #fanfiction #nwtb fanfiction #madmare #madpat #natemare #death tw #this one was fun to write

[sickficideas]

can I request Dazai x Chuuya, with sick Dazai and sickfic prompt 52 please? Thank you

https://www.tumblr.com/sickficideas/707479267971350528/sickfic-prompt-52?source=share

of course anon!! ive very much been enjoying writing skk recently...they make me sad </3

enough // skk sickfic

ao3! please refer to here for tags and warnings :)

"Can you go the fuck home, Dazai?"

Dazai groans at the sound of Chuuya's grating voice. He already has a headache, and Chuuya existing in his general space isn't helping.

"I have important things to do, unlike a certain shrimp in my vicinity," Dazai quips back. The venom in his tone comes with a recoil, it throws that throbbing in the back of his head back into full swing, and he can't help but groan at the feeling.

The truth is, Dazai really doesn't feel well. The headache is obvious enough, but he's almost certain he's developed a fever since the start of the day, too.

There's no way he's giving in to Chuuya's help, though. He has a lot to do, and they have a raid planned tonight on a group they've been working with that's been selling Port Mafia information behind their back. The preparation is a lot of work, it's something Dazai has been working on for weeks. A delicate situation against several powerful skill users.

"Hold off the raid. You guys have been planning it for weeks, what's one day gonna change?" Chuuya grumbles, taking a few steps closer to the desk where Dazai has just finished stacking his reports.

"Tonight is our only chance for an opening," Dazai huffs, as if it's obvious.

"Then I'll go."

"Yes, I definitely need gravity manipulator Chuuya in there, who doesn't know anything about the preparation we’ve been doing and is going to destroy everything in his path," Dazai grumbles.

"Come on. Don't talk about me like I'm a bulldozer."

"You are,” Dazai mumbles. He doesn’t have time to entertain his ideas. Chuuya is certainly capable of doing it himself, but Dazai has gotten this far in his planning and won’t give it up now. “There’s certain things I need to retrieve and certain people I need back alive.”

Chuuya looks like he wants to convince Dazai to just give him a brief overview on what he needs to do, but he seems to realize that he’s not going to get the information he wants. Dazai’s just the slightest bit taken aback by his silence, he’s tempted to joke about it, but he’s overcome with a wave of dizziness that has him afraid he’s about to pass out. It takes everything in him to stay standing upright, but he has to use the desk for support.

“Dazai - “

“Quit bothering me, Chuuya,” Dazai hisses. Of course he wants to go home. He feels hot and clammy and uncomfortable on every level. The sweat on his forehead is starting to make his hairline feel damp. His stomach is twisting in ways that leaves him anxious. But this has to come first.

Chuuya, begrudgingly, leaves the room.

Not long afterward, Akutagawa appears in the doorway of the office. Dazai doesn’t turn around to check if it’s him. He can tell by his footsteps. Careful, quiet. Chuuya doesn’t walk like that.

Akutagawa is supposed to come on this raid with him.

"Akutagawa," Dazai starts as he turns around, immediately getting the latter's attention. Dazai’s head swims at the motion. There’s no way he can get through any kind of combat in this condition. Maybe Akutagawa is the next best thing. Akutagawa’s never lead a raid before, though.

"Yes, sir," he answers, his wide eyes fixed on Dazai.

"I'm gonna have you take the lead on this raid. I have things to take care of here," Dazai says without even making a real decision on it first. This probably isn’t a good idea, but it’s a good chance for Akutagawa to prove himself, so he thinks the kid won’t have any objection to it. "I need the two targets brought back alive. If I find out they’re dead, you’re next.”

He doesn't completely trust Akutagawa to do this on his own. He's still healing from injuries and he's entirely too immature to be leading a raid. Akutagawa at sixteen is much more incompetent than Dazai was at his age, but Dazai can't accompany him with how he's feeling, he knows that. He might pass out any second, honestly. Or throw up, whatever comes first. He’ll get himself killed in combat. Akutagawa is the only one who knows enough about the plan to take Dazai's place.

Akutagawa doesn't look entirely thrilled by that. He waits a few moments, like he’s expecting a just kidding. "You're…you're not coming?"

"No. I'm handing this off to you, did you not hear what I just said?" he asks, and Akutagawa straightens up. Dazai feels a sharp pain right at his temple.

Akutagawa looks confused, concerned, Dazai isn’t sure. He’s more focused on the pain in his head, and he presses a hand up to the side of it as he forces his eyes shut "Yes, I did, but -"

“Forget it, Akutagawa, you…you don’t…”

He really doesn't have the time for this. Honestly, he's starting to think maybe he should get this headache treated, but for some reason, he can't see Akutagawa anymore. Everything in front of him is so blurry that it looks black, and he tries to blink it away, but it doesn’t help.

He hears the sickeding thud of his head against the carpet before he feels it. He’s not sure he even feels it before he blacks out.

…

"You're ridiculous."

The pressure against his temple is unbelievable.

The last thing he remembers is Akutagawa, so he's not entirely sure why he hears Chuuya's voice instead. He doesn’t think Akutagawa is even in the room, actually. 

"I'm giving you two options. You let me take you to the infirmary, or you let me take you the fuck home. Asshole," Chuuya hisses.

"Where's…what happened?" Dazai asks, trying to force his eyes to focus as he opens them. He’s still in the same room. His head is on Chuuya’s lap, at least, and not on the floor.

"You passed out while you were talking to Akutagawa. Scared the life out of him. He thought you were dead," Chuuya sighs. He sounds thoroughly annoyed, moreso than usual. “Called me freaking out.”

Dazai huffs a laugh through his nose. "He should know I don't go down easy."

"Oh, he knows. You know how many times he's caught you trying to kill yourself?"

Dazai is suddenly reminded of how nauseous he was, but he isn't given a lot of time to really figure anything out.

"Chuuya," he murmurs in warning, bringing a hand up to his mouth for just a moment. There's so much saliva building up in his mouth that some of it slips from the corner of his lip as he tries to sit himself up, or at least move off of Chuuya’s lap. He feels it climbing up his throat and he tries to swallow it back, but it comes right back up his esophagus with a vengeance.

He leans over the carpeting and lets some of the saliva drip from his mouth onto the floor. There’s so much of it that it’s making him feel worse. He would rather just vomit right away than deal with all of the nausea beforehand, but he can already tell his esophagus won’t give it up that easy.

"You about to puke, or what?"

"How very observant," Dazai groans. He gags, but it doesn't seem to help his situation at all. He’s halfway propped up by his elbow. When he gets the energy, he’d really like to move this to some sort of toilet, but with how his head feels, he thinks he might pass out again if he tries to get up. He gags again, but nothing comes up, just more saliva. “Ugh, I…I can’t.”

Chuuya doesn't seem to waste any time. Dazai's eyes go wide when he realizes Chuuya’s gloved fingers are suddenly in his mouth. Definitely not the first time something of his has been in his mouth. Dazai has to keep his dirty thoughts to himself. Now is really not the time.

He retches once Chuuya gets far back enough. He burps around Chuuya's fingers, which prompts him to shove his hand a bit further back, as far as he can, and that seems to do the trick. Dazai can't give him much of a warning as the hot vomit rushes into the back of his throat with a final wet belch. It coats his fingers as he pulls them out and Dazai's suddenly more nauseous at the sight of that. He feels his stomach bubbling.

It’s not much at all, stomach acid and alcohol, maybe, that’s all that he’s really had today, but apparently there’s more of it. He manages to choke the rest of it out to splatter on top of the first bout before it starts to soak into the carpet.

“Gross,” Chuuya complains as he pulls his soiled glove off, but even so, he lays a hand on Dazai’s back.

“You’re the one who…urgh,” Dazai retaliates before his stomach doing a flip shuts him up. He feels Chuuya’s hand move up to the back of his neck.

“Your fever feels worse,” Chuuya grumbles, leaving his hand there for a few moments. Dazai relishes it, his hands are so cold. “I’m taking you home.”

"I don't wanna go home," Dazai says quietly as he lays his head back on Chuuya’s lap to meet his weirdly concerned gaze. He’s not used to seeing that expression. "Take me to the infirmary."

"Cool. I don't even know where you live," Chuuya grumbles. He doesn’t waste any time at all. Dazai doesn’t even have a good second to comprehend how quickly Chuuya scoops him up off of the floor to carry him like he’s his bride.

"You're so strong," Dazai teases.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. This'd be a lot easier if I could use my damn ability on you."

“You calling me heavy?” Dazai says, continuing with his teasing. Messing with Chuuya always helps him feel better.

“No, idiot. You weigh the same as a pack of instant ramen,” Chuuya teases back. “Did you have anything to eat today? Like, at all?”

“Mmm…a bottle of Sake or two,” Dazai recalls. His eyes drift over to watch the ceiling as Chuuya carries him down the hall. He knows Chuuya is trying to limit how much he moves him, but he’s starting to feel the nausea again regardless.

“Sake? That’s it?” Chuuya huffs. “You need to eat actual food.”

Dazai’s trying to think of something clever to say, but the way his stomach turns has his attention again. He doesn’t think he’s going to be sick again, at least not right now, but the nausea is seriously unbearable. He groans and wraps the arm he has laying over his abdomen just a bit tighter, hoping the pressure will help some.

“Do you need me to -”

“No, no,” Dazai sighs, “walk faster. I wanna lay down, you’re uncomfy.”

“Ugh.”

Dazai thinks he was starting to doze off just then, because when he has a second to focus on his surroundings again, he’s met with the white ceilings of the infirmary at the main building, and Chuuya gently setting him down on one of the cots. These things are so comfortable. He might try to snag one to replace the bare mattress in his shipping container.

He’s vaguely aware of Chuuya speaking to a nurse as he lays a hand over his forehead. It’s so soft, but more importantly, feels just like a cold washcloth would - that’s probably not a good sign. Dazai doesn’t have any idea how high his fever is, but Chuuya’s hands shouldn’t feel cold at all. They’re usually warm.

He feels the nurse start to look him over, and his eyes drift over to Chuuya, who doesn’t leave, for some reason. Dazai was fully expecting him to at least go sit down elsewhere, but he stays kneeled beside the cot with a hand on Dazai. It moves from his forehead to his cheek, then to his neck - he must know that it feels nice.

"Is Akutagawa leading the raid?" Dazai asks quietly, suddenly remembering his prior dilemma. He doesn’t have any clue what time it is.

"Yeah, he is," Chuuya says.

"Have you heard back? How long has it been?" Dazai asks.

"I haven't heard back," Chuuya huffs. “Hirotsu went with him. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Oh, thank god. Dazai’s glad someone was cross referencing him. Sending Akutagawa out on his own was a ridiculous idea. He really shouldn’t be making decisions like that with a fevered brain. He’s surprised Chuuya didn’t go in on it himself. He loves those types of things, but he’s here instead.

He doesn’t catch anything that the nurse says, but he already know he has a fever. Whether this is a flu or a cold doesn’t matter to him, he’ll take tonight to rest and then go back to working tomorrow. But he’ll keep his plans from Chuuya for now.

The nausea hits him like a truck for some reason when he tries to let his eyes fall shut, and he forces himself to sit up and lean forward, much to Chuuya’s surprised. He hears a complaint from him, something about laying down, but he seems to realize quickly enough that he’s nauseous again.

Chuuya holds an apparently nearby bedpan under his chin to let the stringly saliva drip into it, and all he can bring up is a sour wad of stomach bile. It burns coming up, all the way in the back of his throat. This probably would have felt at least a little better if there was actual food in his system. Maybe Chuuya had a point.

He groans, eyes screwed shut. He doesn’t think he has more to bring up, but his stomach won’t give him a break with its twisting and turning.

"Lay down, dammit,” Chuuya says after a few moments, but Dazai shakes his head. He can’t. He thinks laying down flat like that is bothering his stomach for some reason, and somehow, Chuuya feels to extract that from his mind. He says something to the nurse and she’s suddenly nearby with two more pillows to lay on top of the first one, and once they’re placed, Chuuya gently guides him back down.

“What a sweetheart you are,” Dazai half-teases.

“Shut up,” Chuuya hisses, clearly not enjoying that kind of tease in front of anyone who isn’t just the two of them, but weirdly enough, he takes his hand.

Dazai’s head starts to feel better.

He slips in and out of it for a while. The nurse places an IV and gives him some medication, something that starts to help his nausea, and Chuuya busies himself with an actual cold washcloth on Dazai’s burning forehead instead of his hand, and it really does feel nice. Sure, none of this is all-curing, but he feels better for now. His stomach doesn’t seem to have any surprise lurches left in store for him either, at least not for the time being.

He should thank Chuuya later. Dazai’s glad he didn’t let himself go back to his shipping container. This is objectively nicer. And probably a way better idea.

“Don’t you have better things to do? Port Mafia Executive?” Dazai teases weakly, hardly able to keep his eyes open. Chuuya’s still right there beside the cot. He almost feels guilty keeping him here.

Chuuya just sighs. “Enough out of you.”

He slips out of it for a little while longer, long enough for the lights in the infirmary to go off. Dazai has been in here enough times to know that means it’s past midnight.

"Is he okay?" Dazai hears a new voice ask. It’s a whisper that he doesn’t recognize right away, but it’s not Chuuya. Chuuya isn’t at his side anymore.

"He'll be fine. Go home,” he hears Chuuya hiss.

"But -"

"I'm your superior too. Go home, Akutagawa," Chuuya huffs. Dazai thinks what he feels wash over him is relief. He didn’t think Akutagawa was going to die, but if he did, it would have been due to Dazai’s ridiculous fevered ideas. He won’t admit to that, though.

"Please let me know if his condition worsens," Akutagawa says quietly.

"I will," he sighs. Dazai starts to try and sit up, just a bit, but he doesn’t have the energy. The washcloth just ends up slipping over his eyes, and he’s too defeated to do anything but lie back down. “Go home. You have your own injuries to take care of.”

He hears Akutagawa’s familiar footsteps recede, and Chuuya’s come closer, back to where he was beside the cot. This time, he sits on the space beside Dazai, and he adjusts the washcloth on his forehead.

“Go back to sleep,” Chuuya says quietly in a chiding tone, “you need to sleep this fever off.”

“Was that -”

"You do not deserve his pity," Chuuya grumbles. He seems to know that Dazai already knows exactly who it was. "I really don't get him."

"That makes two of us," he says, only slightly aware of his hoarse his voice is sounding. “The raid, did -”

“Hirotsu came by earlier to give me the report. Everything went down like you expected, and they captured the two you wanted alive. Akutagawa did,” Chuuya informs him. Dazai’s surprised he didn’t catch Hirotsu coming by. “So quit worrying and go back to sleep, dammit.”

Dazai’s surprised to hear Akutagawa brought anyone back alive. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“I’m taking you home once you’re off this IV. Don’t think for a second you get to work until this fever’s gone. Got it?” Chuuya says in a whisper, fixing Dazai’s unruly bangs before the hand rests on his cheek. Dazai can hardly see him at all, just his outline from the doorframe allowing in the hallway’s light, but he can feel his concern. It’s strange. He’s not used to it. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

“Scanedlous,” Dazai teases, leaning into Chuuya’s hand as his eyes start to fall shut again. “An executive taking me home?”

“Enough,” Chuuya tells him. “Sleep.”

It doesn’t take much, especially with Chuuya’s cool hand there on his cheek.

#this one was fun to write #can u tell i Love the hand on the cheek with a fever trope a lot #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #skk #chuuya #my fanfictions #dazai #chuuya x dazai #sickfic #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #fever #vomiting #emeto #ill #illness #romantic #fanfics #soukoku #ask box

[redux-iterum]

Burning Hearts: Chapter Sixteen

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Neither Cinderpaw or Yellowfang returned with a clarity-providing vision, to Fireheart’s disappointment. Perhaps it was exacerbated by the situation with his friends, but he only grew more and more antsy as time went on and no answer was given. It wasn’t just this vague dream—no amount of self-assurances would let him take his mind off his troubles. Ravenwing noticed right away, but any explanation Fireheart could give was scattered and frayed at the ends.

“I’d just like to be able to relax for a bit,” he said, scraping at his face with a paw. “I mean, not to blame you—”

Ravenwing shook his head. “Blaming me for anything would be appropriate right now. Look– far be it from me to be the optimistic one, but I think it’ll be alright in the end. It’s just bad in the moment.”

Fireheart hummed and groomed his face even more aggressively.

Greystripe did not offer any encouragement. He had stopped speaking with Fireheart as well. A curt nod or flick of the tail in greeting was all he gave before marching off to do his own thing (which was invariably Silverstream-related). Disheartenment was an eager and unwelcome presence hanging over Fireheart’s head.

Praise the stars, a break finally came. Gathering night rolled around, and Fireheart and Ravenwing were selected to go. Unfortunately (fortunately, fortunately, Fireheart scolded himself), Greystripe was in the Gathering party as well. Lizardtail and Teaselfoot thankfully walked in the middle of the group as they set out, with Fireheart and Ravenwing on one side and Greystripe on the other. Bluestar only glanced back once, but her pale eyes were calculating and deductive. Fireheart would have prayed she didn’t decide to get to the bottom of this mysterious situation, but at this point he’d take anything to get Greystripe to see reason.

As it was tonight, though, when they arrived at Fourtrees, Greystripe split off into the crowd of RiverClan cats without a word to anyone. Fireheart held his breath and waited, but no one questioned this and in fact just spread out themselves to speak with their neighbors. Half-relieved, half-disappointed, Fireheart walked with Ravenwing, looking around the crowd.

“No ShadowClan yet?” he remarked. “Huh. They’re not usually the last to arrive.”

“Been busy.”

Fireheart and Ravenwing looked back forward to see the lanky Wrenwhisker strolling towards them. No apprentice was at his heels, but Fireheart noted that his friend looked a little more tired than usual.

“Far as I’ve heard,” Wrenwhisker continued, flat and dry as ever. “Think they’re still watching for rogues.”

Fireheart blinked. “Oh! That’d explain it. And good evening to you!”

“Evening.”

“Nice to– nice to see you,” Ravenwing said, even more nervously than usual. “Your apprentice isn’t here? Gorsepaw?”

Wrenwhisker’s eyes widened so slightly that Fireheart wasn’t sure they widened at all. “Nice of you to remember.”

Ravenwing mumbled something incoherent under his breath.

“He’s sick,” Wrenwhisker said, as if Ravenwing had done nothing. “Got a cough. Been resting for a few nights until he’s recovered.”

“Oh, poor thing,” Fireheart said, a pang in his heart. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

Wrenwhisker rolled a shoulder. “He will. Happens all the time.”

“Ah, there you are!”

Crookedstar, sitting on the leaders’ boulder, had his back towards the crowd. His tail wagged in delight as a cluster of tiny, skeletal marsh-cats trotted up to the ring of trees.

“Apologies,” Blackstar said, almost as flat as a WindClan cat. “We were held up.”

“Not a problem, not a problem.” Crookedstar turned back around, sweeping the air with a paw. “Come along and catch up with your friends, my fine fellows! We have time yet.”

ShadowClan dipped their heads to him in unison with a few replies of “thank you” and “blessings”. They fanned out and melted into the crowd, the other Clans greeting them and absorbing them into their various conversations without a thought.

Fireheart sat up on his haunches and looked as much over the crowd as he could. “I don’t think Rainpath is here.”

“Shame,” Wrenwhisker said. His eyes slid over to Ravenwing. “You got any rogues yourselves?”

Ravenwing, surprisingly, answered rather calmly. “Just a couple. They may have killed our deputy. Lionface.”

“Ah.” Wrenwhisker flicked his left ear. “Sorry.”

Fireheart sighed and nodded. “We never found a body. I think the humans picked him up and took him away.”

His friend’s eyes narrowed again, much more clear than the widening. “Always got to ruin things, the pricks.”

Ravenwing made a noise somewhere between a splutter and a snort. Fireheart looked at him curiously, and it was hard to tell if he was more shocked at himself or amused at the comment.

Wrenwhisker blinked, but someone called his name before he could respond. He looked back the way he’d come, then looked back at the ThunderClan cats.

“Go ahead,” Fireheart said. “It was good to see you!”

Wrenwhisker’s eyes flicked to Ravenwing, who subtly squirmed and nodded, near-bashful. Fireheart squinted at Ravenwing, confused—

Oh.

Oh-ho-ho!

As Wrenwhisker turned away to walk off, Fireheart stared up at Ravenwing with, he was certain, pure jubilation on his face. Ravenwing glanced at him, then looked again, his own expression immediately panicked.

“Wooow,” Fireheart whispered. “And you yelled at Greystripe for—”

“Shut up!” Ravenwing hissed frantically. “It’s not the same thing! And I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Fireheart’s eyes were nearly shut in delight. “You gunna say anything to him?”

“No!” Ravening somehow squeak-whispered. “I’m just– appreciating! I can appreciate!”

Fireheart opened his mouth to respond, but caught Wrenwhisker standing still out of the corner of his eye. He and Ravenwing looked at the brown tom, both definitely hoping he hadn’t heard anything.

Wrenwhisker had his head turned to them, his eyes slowly roaming between the pair. They settled on Ravenwing for a long moment before he gave a deadpan wink, then turned back and trotted off after whoever had called his name.

Fireheart gawked, fighting the urge to chuff. One look at Ravenwing nearly sent him howling; the poor tom’s eyes were bugged out of his head and his mouth dropped open, his ears half-back in shock. A very tiny creak came out of his throat.

Gradually, his eyes turned over to Fireheart, who was watching him in immaculate glee. Barely audible, Ravenwing managed, “Don’t even start, I swear to—”

Fireheart couldn’t help himself. A “HA!” escaped him and he ducked his head to hide his chuff that shook his whole body. A few cats looked at him in surprise.

“I hate you,” Ravenwing muttered. “I hate you so much.”

“What in the world is so funny?”

Fireheart looked up, his humor rapidly retreating. Greystripe had made his way over to them and was staring at Fireheart with a tilted head.

“Oh—” Fireheart sat up straight and cleared his throat with a couple coughs. “Nothing. We can tell you later.”

“Where’s your friend?” Ravenwing asked, in a voice that was trying its very best to be neutral.

Greystripe, surprisingly, did not glare or ignore. He instead looked around and leaned in towards his friends, eyes wide in worry. “That’s the thing. I can’t find her. She said she’d come unless something stopped her, and she’s not here.”

Fireheart leaned in too, keeping his voice low. “I’m sure it’s alright. Maybe she just didn’t get picked to go.”

“She’s always here!” Greystripe said, barely remembering to stay hushed. “What if she’s sick, or hurt? What do I do? Should I ask someone about her?”

“Don’t,” Ravenwing said—and to Fireheart’s relief, he didn’t sound angry or annoyed. “Looking for her like you are is going to raise questions. Just– I don’t know, just sit with us. Fireheart’s right, it’s probably fine. WindClan is dealing with a cough. She might have something similar.”

Greystripe’s eyes darted between his friends. Fireheart couldn’t help a sting of compassion in his chest at the fretful way Greystripe was looking at them, like he needed them to reassure him Silverstream was okay.

“She—” he dropped his voice to a mumble. “She did say she felt funny the last time I saw her.”

“Let her rest,” Fireheart said soothingly. “You can ask after her later. Come sit with us.”

A very guilty look at Ravenwing, who just turned his eyes to the leaders’ boulder, and Greystripe shuffled meekly over to Fireheart’s left and sat down. He didn’t look at either of his friends, his head low like a scolded dog.

He was just in time, because Bluestar gave a long, loud call that silenced the crowd and turned all their heads to the leaders, all sitting with varying levels of grace and equal levels of authority.

“A welcome clear sky in this less-than-welcome season, I’d say,” Crookedstar said, loud and cheerful as he stood up. “Good evening to you all! I hope you have all been as well-fed as RiverClan.”

Rookstar tilted his long head a bit. “Your water has cleared up?”

“In the past few days, we’ve been swimming and fishing without sickness, yes!” Crookedstar beamed at his fellow leader. “RiverClan is back to its natural home; we feast on fish once again!”

Congratulations rippled through the air, and the leaders all nodded approvingly.

“However,” Crookedstar said, raising a paw for silence, “I would be remiss not to admit that we’ve had help these past months. ThunderClan, I’d like to thank you for gifting prey to us in our troubled times. RiverClan is in your debt, without question and without shame.” He winked at Bluestar. “I had to beat you to the catch on that one. I knew you’d mention it if I didn’t.”

Bluestar twitched her whiskers, her voice warm. “Any chance to have one over on you.”

“Ha!” Crookedstar shook his head. “Not this time, old girl.”

Rookstar actually looked surprised, and Blackstar’s amber eyes were wide and ears perked. Their Clans murmured to each other their own amazement at Crookedstar’s admission. Fireheart noted that a couple of RiverClan cats suddenly had their ears back in embarrassment, and ThunderClan’s cats had their chests puffed out.

“To everyone’s shock, yes, we actually can get along here and there,” Crookedstar said when the noise died down. “But with our river restored, ThunderClan has no need to share their prey with us anymore. We’ll find a way to repay you in time for feeding our queens and elders, of course.”

Blackstar spoke. “I suppose that wouldn’t involve sharing Sunningrocks?”

“Not in a thousand lifetimes,” Crookedstar said jovially.

“Figured,” Blackstar sighed. “At least you are all safe in your water.”

“Yes.” Rookstar nodded. “We’re happy to hear that.”

Confirmations came from the crowd.

Crookedstar trilled and dipped his head to them, then turned back to Bluestar. “Would you care to speak, now that I’ve stolen your thunder?”

Bluestar gave him a joking stink-eye before speaking. “ThunderClan has unfortunately lost our deputy, Lionface, to what we assume are rogues. His body was gone before we could retrieve it.”

The cheerful mood dissipated and sympathetic words were given to whichever ThunderClan cat was next to the speaker. Their heads were bent now, their chests shrunken back.

“No burial, then,” Rookstar said quietly. “Sorry. I know that’s hard for you.”

Bluestar blinked at him thankfully before addressing the crowd again. “Our new deputy is Tigerclaw, who has elected to stay home tonight to take care of the Clan while I’m gone.”

“Ah, I remember him,” someone whispered in front of Fireheart. “Fine fellow. Good choice, very good choice.”

“Yeah, he’s prime ThunderClan,” their friend whispered back. “I’m just shocked he wasn’t picked before Lionface. He’s got manners, at least.”

“Other than that,” Bluestar said, “ThunderClan is doing well. We have a full nursery and healthy warriors who can always find something to bring home. Nothing else to report.” She turned her head to Rookstar, then to Blackstar in a silent prompt.

Blackstar stood up as she sat down. “I will speak. Bluestar, I apologize for the intrusion of rogues along your border. They’ve retreated from our own after we made it firm that we would not tolerate them hereafter. I did not expect they would come to torment your Clan, of all of us.”

“That isn’t your fault,” Bluestar said kindly. “Rogues will do anything for a meal.”

Blackstar grunted. “Still, unfortunate, and you have our sorrow.” He dipped his head to her, a motion she mirrored, before turning back. “Elsewise, we’ve no poor news. ShadowClan prospers. Our food sources have been restored to us, and we dine easily once again.”

“Wouldn’t know it, looking at you,” Rookstar said.

“As ever,” Blackstar replied. “I presume you care to speak now?”

Rookstar hummed and stood up, long tail waving. “WindClan has received no visitors to our border, but a few unfamiliar scents have been found near the Barn. The loner there has seen nothing, and neither have we. We’ll alert you if we find them to be dangerous.”

“I pray it isn’t more rogues,” Blackstar said as Rookstar sat down again.

“Certainly cats.” Rookstar lolled his head to one side apathetically. “We’ll see soon enough.”

Bluestar leaned forward to look at the toms individually. “Then we have no more news?”

The other leaders affirmed with various noises.

“Resume your conversations,” Bluestar said to the crowd. “Now, Crookedstar, about that debt…”

Crookedstar snorted, but there was no aggressiveness in his body. If anything, he looked tickled. Fireheart didn’t miss that the other leaders subtly leaned in, ears perked, as the leaders of ThunderClan and RiverClan started chatting.

“Well…” Greystripe started, making Fireheart look his way. “I guess I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“You could talk to us,” Fireheart offered.

Greystripe darted an anxious look at Ravenwing, who was pointedly still staring forward. “Would… would you even want to talk to me?”

Fireheart blinked at him, as friendly as he could muster. “It’d be nice to chat with my friend again, yes.”

“Assuming he won’t insult us,” Ravenwing muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not—” Greystripe fumbled. “I don’t– just– I’m—”

Ravenwing still didn’t look his way, but his body was much more tense, like he was expecting the need to sprint in the other direction. Fireheart looked between them, now nervous that another fight was about to break out.

Greystripe eventually gave up and hung his head. He mumbled something Fireheart couldn’t decipher, but chose to believe was an apology. Ravenwing didn’t run, but Greystripe didn’t speak, and the air was uncomfortable, and painfully tense.

Fireheart breathed deeply and slowly to keep himself at ease. It didn’t help at all.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #this one was fun to write #arc one #burning hearts #chapter #chapter sixteen #book two

[paradimeshifts7]

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗟𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 💫

Rated E | 4k

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #ao3fic #steddie smut #steddie fluff #steddie angst #soulmate au #dream sex #this one was fun to write

[unforth]

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Characters: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, witch/familiar, Snake Shifter Wei Ying, POV Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, First Kiss Word Count: 1,705 Summary:

Annually, when people of standing come of age, a ceremony is held to match cultivators with animal shifter companions.

Wei Ying is a snake shifter companion.

Jiang Cheng is a cultivator.

You can guess what happens next.

(Madam Yu will most definitely NOT approve.)

(Written for May Trope Mayhem Day 6: Witch/Familiar)

*

How about some Chengxian? I’ve missed writing for them as a pairing...

@duckprintspress

#unforth writes #cql #chengxian #don't like don't read y'all #if you didn't know i ship it you haven't looked at my ao3 cause this isn't even my first fic for them #wwx is in fact my favorite partner for jc #this one was fun to write #i just knocked out 1700 words in 40 minutes lmao

[ozimagines]

dating ryan o’reily would include . . PRETTY PLEASE !!!! 🤌

Oh absolutely. The appearance of the please is inconsequential lol I’ve always wanted to write this. The key to Ryan O’Reily is he puts his whole pussy into everything he does, and I feel like dating him would be more of the same. I present to the council:

Dating Ryan O’Reily would include…

The key to this man is obsession

Could be your looks, could be something you said, could be something you did for him; it doesn’t matter. Once he’s hooked, he’s hooked.

Will jokingly flirt at first, making quick passes at you, but he’s a flirty guy so you just assume it’s another O’Reily-ism

“Lookin’ good today… very good.”🥵

That is until you notice all your stuff starting to disappear.

It’s little things at first; a hat of yours, some makeup, but then you notice one of the pillows on your bed is missing

Bring it up and he’ll deny it, but he wanted to own some part of you

The real kicker is when you meet Cyril

Cyril immediately distrusts you; he remembers Ryan and the bad lady (Howell)

But you’re kind and gentle with him, and better yet, you don’t talk around him like he’s an object. You talk to him. And he notices these things.

“I like you… can we be friends?”🥹

When Ryan comes down the stairs to meet you, you and Cyril are talking like old friends, watching Miss Sally and discussing if Nooter or Pecky is better.

At this point, Ryan is more in love with you than ever.

He tells you as much, not bothering to ask you on a date before confessing his love.

“Hey, I love you. I love you more than anything.”💘

(If you’re same sex, he’ll insist he’s not a “fag” but say he loves you all the same, hoping you “know the difference🧐”)

It… it’s a bit much. Even for you, who feels the same.

You ask if you can take it slow.

He says yes yes yes and then tells everyone you’re in love and will be together forever🤣

He remembers all your food orders. Like, down to food restrictions and preferences on toppings lol.

Anything you don’t like, he’ll eat for you and give you his meal.

“Yeah, one Venti iced pumpkin spice latte with oat milk, three pumps of pumpkin, one pump vanilla, cold foam, and a sprinkle of cinnamon. And one regular coffee, I guess.” 🤣

Kind of a guy who when he stops quickly or short in the car, he puts out his arm over your chest to stop you from lurching forward.🥲

Dates are always epic and wild

He took you to a fair and won you and Cyril the biggest stuffed animals they have; you can barely carry it, but it’s a point of honor for him.

He took you to the zoo (lots of your dates include Cyril) and put you up on the rails over the lion pit, him being the only thing stopping you from going over.

Talk about trust lol

Ryan fucks like a beast but he makes love as well

Cotton sheets and candles lit, Ryan’s lips grazing over your body.

He holds you gently, like he holds Cyril after nightmares, kissing you all over.

Ryan, like many guys in Oz, just wanted to a chance to do over his life❤️‍🩹

And you gave it to him. Everything. His everything.

He wants kids with you, adopted or otherwise. Starts calling you mommy/daddy to get you on board

Cyril gets very excited to be and uncle, and even though you were worried about him being gentle with a kid, Cyril holds them like a mama bear holds a baby cat😅

Ryan had to learn some things, like not to smoke around the baby and that kids can go into poker houses🙃

He still teaches his kid to play poker and pick a lock because “you never know, right?”

You find him staring at you a lot, and when you ask what he’s thinking, all he says is “I’m lucky, that’s all.”

“I love you. I love you with everything I have.”

“Love you too, Ryan.”

Bonus: Ryan loves Sitcoms! He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes dis-functional families that all still love each other. He tears up every time a show ends. His favorite is Cheers, because he identifies with Sam Malone.

#hbo oz #oz meme #ryan oreily #cyril o’reily #this one was fun to write #when I watched the first episode I was like… Dennis Duffy got mean😂 #but you know he has a lucrative insurance job after tho🤪 #Ryan my sweet #ya freak people out with your intensity #ask me anything

[elizaellwrites]

Up after midnight again...

Tired and stressed...

What do I do?

Pull out a WIP I haven't touched in months to write in one of my favorite povs.

#roselle's back in business #vixen part seven #this one was fun to write #but half the chapter was written six months ago #coming soon: ryan v. roselle #ryan is a good friend

[ossifer-bones]

"are you happy now?" for amberprice pls and thankies?

The world is a place full of cruel ironies, if you ask Chloe. The kind of shit that’s so awful yet poetic that it manages to bring a smile to your face in spite of it all. They taste bitter all the same, that doesn’t change, but when your mouth curls at that bitterness the shape it takes is a grin instead of a grimace.

One such irony is how on a perfect night like this—laying in a truck bed, under a blanket, gazing up at the stars, with Rachel fucking Amber—her mind is still stuck on a person that’s miles away. A person that has completely forgotten about her. Who’s living it up in Seattle, having escaped Arcadia Bay, Oregon without even trying.

Chloe still remembers all the sleepovers. The late nights where they’d sit in her room late at night, her TV muted with the PS2 still hooked up to it, holding their breath every time the house creaked or groaned, whispering about the nothings that seem like everything when you’re that young. She remembers how Max would fall asleep first every time they watched a movie, her head usually ending up on her shoulder or lap somewhere along the way. She remembers those simpler times.

#amberprice #rachel amber #chloe price #life is strange #thanks for the prompt! #this one was fun to write #asks

[scarlxtleaves]

dirty teasing meme / accepting / @crimsontwins​

[ LAP ]  for Alhaitham

Her words exactly were ‘There’s something wonderful you can explore.’ In hindsight he should have taken consideration of both her tone and facial expression when she had said that. Well, tone maybe, as for her expression he was far too deep within his books to even know what kind of face she had been making but nevertheless, the woman led them both into such an extravagant spot in the jungle that anyone could be fool at the prospect of something valuable. However it was once they arrived at a certain area that resembles a meadow, nothing but soft grass and butterflies as far as he could see did she instructed him to sit down.

He remembered what a fool he’d been for doing so in the first place if only to satiate his own personal curiosity. But then the unthinkable..or not soo unthinkable thing happened when it had to do with Sera. She sat onto his lap, straddling him even and began working her hips against him. However, these actions proved to be extremely ineffective as his body did not provide the reaction she might have been hoping for.

“Seraphina, you’re a beautiful woman. But I’ve already told you these antics are a waste on me. To think you’d even stoop so low as to lie.” That’s when he gave her a rather deadpan stare. He knew such actions were only human soo how could he blame her, she was simply doing something that was of the norm for two consenting adults. Alhaitham was not a man who hated sex or intimacy, he simply felt this was not the time and place for it. “Maybe next time.”

#❛ mail ━━ you're losing your way but i'll carry you home. #crimsontwins #this one was fun to write #he still likes you tho #in his own way

[vesselslut]

One more secret won't hurt / Bunny x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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

Chapter 5: The shores of Metahemeralism

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I take a seat one table closer than I was last time. I’m still carrying the damn Frankenstein book around, the essay still unwritten, so I take it out, both to look less like a stalker and to actually try to do some reading. Most of them are quietly reading as well, except of course for Bunny, who’s talking Henry’s ear off about yet another thing I know nothing about. Thanks to Judy now I can put a name to all their faces, but it only makes me feel even more like a stalker, knowing small details about these people I’ve never spoken to.

Henry seems quite amused at whatever Bunny is saying, his eyes going back and forth between Bunny and the paper he’s holding in his hands. I look down at my book and try to make out what they’re saying.

- “I tell you; this might be my best paper yet. Professor Morrow is gonna be all over it when I turn it in,” Bunny’s excited words cut through the silence in the library.

- “Bunny, I’m still not sure ‘Metahemeralism’ actually exists…” says Henry, shuffling between the few sheets of paper in his hands. “Also, why does it look like this? What’s up with all the space?”

- “Huh? Oh! Well, it needed to be 5 pages long, so I triple spaced it, pretty smart, huh?” I can hear Henry snort and I look up to see him covering his mouth with a hand, trying to remain composed. He lets out a small chuckle. In all the times I’ve seen them around campus, I’ve never seen Henry smile once, much less laugh.

- “Hey B, you want me to take a look at it? See if it needs any corrections?” Francis asks from behind his pince-nez. I’ve never seen anyone wearing pince-nez in real life. I’m not sure they even make them anymore, so I wonder if he’s wearing an antique pair or if maybe he had them custom made. They just add to his quirky charm.

- “Nah, don’t worry about it. I just want to turn it in and be done with it. Plus it took me 2 weeks to write, so I’m pretty sure it’s a masterpiece.” Bunny says, triumphantly.

- “What was it, again? ‘Methemeralism’ I mean,” asks who I assume is Richard, Judy’s crush.

- “It’s ‘Metahemeralism’, “Bunny corrects, confidently. “Comes from Latin, it has to do with irony and the pastoral.” They all looked up at him, dumbfounded. I’ve read hundreds of books throughout my life, both for school and for fun, and I’ve never heard about Metahemeralism either.

- “Bun, wasn’t the paper meant to be about John Donne? Are you sure you didn’t mean ‘metaphysicalism’ or something?” Camilla asks, sweetly. Genuine concern in her eyes, as she closes her book, one finger sandwiched between the pages as a bookmark.

- “Oh, John Donne, John Schmone. I did mention him a couple times, but the star of the paper is definitely Metahemeralism. It’s the glue between the poet and the fisherman!” he speaks with his hands, as much as with his voice; he waves them around and then brings them together, interlocking his fingers, as if they’re the poet and the fisherman being glued together, whatever that means.

- “Let me take a look at that,” says Charles, yanking the paper from Henry’s hands. He skims the paper for a few seconds, and suddenly bursts out laughing. Bunny’s glaring at him, clearly offended by the reaction. “ ‘And as we leave Donne and Walton on the shores of Metahemeralism, we wave a fond farewell to those famous chums of yore,’” he reads off the paper. “Bunny, you’re right, this is a masterpiece,” he wipes a tear from his cheek, and hands the paper back to Bunny, with a soft pat on his shoulder. The others are all fighting their own personal battles not to burst out laughing. Bunny seems unsure if Charles was being sarcastic or not.

- “Well, we’ll see if Julian likes it, he’s gonna be the one grading it after all,” he says, with a nonchalant little smile. “I’m gonna put the masterpiece away now, unless anyone else wants to take a look at it.”

- “Could I take a look at it?” the new voice startles me at first, but I am completely frozen when I realize it is coming from me. The six of them fix their eyes on me, just as startled by my interruption. I make eye contact with Bunny and immediately feel my knees betraying me, but I do my best to remain stoic. I’m not sure where the confidence came from when I spoke up, but it certainly abandoned me after the damage was done. Several seconds pass before anyone says anything. From the corner of my eye I’m pretty sure I see Camilla giggling and sharing a look with Francis.

- “Uh… Sure. Here you go,” he finally answers, extending his arm with the paper towards me. I stand up and walk the few steps that separate our tables, and take the paper carefully with the tips of my fingers, careful not to wrinkle any corners or smudge the ink. He looks confused by my interest in his paper, but still gives me a smile. He stands there while I quickly read through the paper. It doesn’t take too long, considering he really triple spaced it. I feel everyone’s eyes staring at me, expectantly. The paper is a bit all over the place, touching on many topics without actually concluding anything relevant. It could be a good draft; it just needs a little more work connecting the ideas to each other. I’m still unsure if Metahemeralism is even a word, but it’s definitely an interesting read. I reach the end and I find myself smiling widely at the paper.

- “So…?” His voice breaks my trance, and I look up at him startled. “Did you like it? What did you think?” It feels like they are all holding their breaths, waiting for my answer. I suck at speaking in public, or under pressure, or both at the same time, so I take a deep breath to avoid stammering once I begin speaking.

- “I did like it,” I confirm. “I would work on it a little more to connect the ideas more smoothly, but it has potential. I’m not a classics major though, so don’t take me too seriously.” I chuckle, handing the paper back to him.

- “What’s your major?” Camilla asks from her seat, right in front of me. Her big eyes staring at me, making me feel almost as weak as Bunny’s.

- “I’m a literature major.”

- “WHAT?! A lit major! Of course I’m gonna take your opinion seriously!” yells Bunny, beaming at me. Just as expected, his energy is contagious. I beam right back at him. “I’m Bunny, nice to meet you,” he extends his hand to me. I look at it for a second before I realize I’m supposed to shake it.

- “Oh, right. I’m Y/N,” I shake his hand. “Nice to meet everyone,” I add, feeling their eyes still on me.

- “That’s Henry, and Richard. Over there is Francis, and these are Charles and Camilla,” he points to each of his friends, and I pretend I didn’t already know all their names. A wave of ‘Heys’ and ‘Hellos’ erupts from the group.

- “Whatcha got there?” asks Camilla, and I see her eyes are on my hands. I’m still carrying the damn book, still very unread.

- “Oh, I have to write a paper about Frankenstein and it has to be original and revolutionary so I was trying to re-read it to see if I could come up with anything, but my brain is still blank.”

- “Original? About Frankenstein?” Francis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “They should’ve assigned you a less ancient book if they want something original.”

- “That’s exactly what I said!” I exclaim, happy to have someone agree with me, though it comes out more as an excited shriek. Camilla and Francis giggle again, and I feel my cheeks blushing. “Well, I’ll let you all get back to your stuff-” I start saying, feeling bad about interrupting the group of strangers, but Camilla grabs my wrist. I look down at her, confused.

- “Wait, no. Sit down. Maybe we can all brainstorm some revolutionary ideas about Frankenstein, we’ve all read it, I’m sure,” she says, dragging her chair to the left and pulling me down in a seat between her and Francis. She winks at me and takes the book from my hands, skimming through a few pages.

They all start throwing random ideas at me. Most of them are definitely not original, stuff about the novel that has been overanalyzed for 2 centuries already. I still write everything down, every idea counts. Maybe I can combine some parts of an idea with bits of another, and create a new, better idea. I see the irony as soon as the thought crosses my mind. Through all the chaos and voices speaking over one another, I try my best not to look directly at Bunny for too long, scared of giving them the wrong impression. Now that I’ve spoken to him and everything seems less mysterious, less unreachable, I can finally stop overfocusing on it.

Half an hour later I have a rough draft of what my essay could be about. Henry suggested I analyze what the book would’ve looked like if it had been written by Percy instead of Mary; and Francis suggested I analyze how society would’ve responded to the book if it had been written by a man instead of a woman. I’m not sure how original it actually is, but I’ve never read anything from this perspective, and that’s good enough!

- “Thanks guys. I’ve been trying to write this fucking essay for like a week,” I say, putting the book along with a bunch of crumbled up papers with discarded ideas, into my bag. “And Bunny, thank you for letting me read your paper,” I say, turning to him.

- “Nah, thank you for reading it!” he says, smiling broadly at me. “I’d love to hear some of those ideas to make it smoother sometime…” he casually adds.

- “Sure thing, anytime you want,” I say, writing down on one of the discarded pieces of paper. “Here’s my number, just let me know!” I look at the rest of them, “You can all save it to your phones, in case you need help with anything literature related,” I add, before turning away towards the exit. A wave of ‘Thank yous’ and ‘Byes’ flowing behind me.

Outside the library, I breath in a mouthful of fresh air. I feel my shoulders lighter already. I knew I only needed to find the courage to speak to them to chase that overwhelming mess of thoughts out of my brain. I remember what Judy said about them when I first asked, and I could definitely see some of it firsthand, like Henry’s seriousness, but I couldn’t help but liking them all. Sure, they’re a bit strange, but then again, so am I. There’s one thing Judy was totally right about, though, Bunny is indeed very nice.

#the secret history #bunny corcoran #this one was fun to write #francis abernathy #camilla macaulay #judy poovey #henry winter #charles macaulay #richard papen

[thelordofshrimp]

honeycomb sticking to our fingers

“Lord have mercy, you sound like an English major.”

“I am an English major!” Nico retorted defiantly. He could feel the stares of people around them who’d stopped to watch them argue, but he didn’t care. “What’s the point of singing if you’re gonna act like you don’t give a shit?”

“I don’t give a shit. I needed a Fine Arts credit and I can’t paint.”

they're in a choir together and have a few feelings about that :)

Read on Ao3

happy secret santa to liz @solange-lol !!! thank you for the wonderful prompt (and the room for creativity) and i hope you enjoy!!

#this one was fun to write #i like flirt arguments a lot #fic #my fic #solangelo