#they're supposed to be in like high school but I do not have the brain power to make it more obvious

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

how the HECK do I explain to my parents that I do not want bass guitar lessons from my dad, I want to teach myself from the books and videos that I have. I will literally throw away every plan I have to learn this instrument if I have to learn this way I'm not even kidding. this is why I quit guitar after two months my freshman year of high school.

[terrorbirb]

Nothing against low level jobs really, but one of our engineering techs was only a food service worker before this. Like an associates does something for you (don't know if that's what he has even he may be a student) I guess, but no wonder these guys aren't ready for engineering.

[wheels-of-despair]

...and in the next fic, she gets him this patch for his battle vest.

C'mon, It's Just One Night (Part 2)

Summary: After getting a fake love note in your locker, you ask Eddie to help you mess up some bullies plans. 

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, smut later, fem reader, reader wears a dress at one point, mentions of bullying, actual bullying, three-shot

Master List

3.8k Words

Part 1

You and Eddie didn’t talk about the plan again until the night of Homecoming. Most of the chats you had about what was going to happen tonight was about the secret show that Corroded Coffin was going to do right after the dance. 

Honestly, you had heard a few kids quietly whispering about the show, which surprised you. You wondered how many people were interested in the music versus wanting to see the Freak and his band play. After all, Corroded Coffin only really played The Hideout on Tuesdays, which wasn’t exactly the best time slot for high schoolers. 

It was about a half hour before the dance was supposed to start, and you had spent the whole day distracted. You kept reading that stupid note over and over again, and anyone watching you would think that you were just excited about a secret date. The truth was that you hoped that the note would somehow give you any sort of clue about what was planned for you when you made your way into the gym that night. 

You’d convinced the rest of Hellfire to try and gather any information on what was going to happen, but no one came back with any information. Even Lucas, who was a jock, couldn’t get any information from anyone. 

Maybe this would be a Carrie situation. 

Having telekinetic powers could be cool though. 

You stared hard at the brush on your desk that night, trying to make it move with your mind. Nothing happened. 

It might not have moved because as you were glaring at your brush, a knock came at your bedroom door. It was your mom, wanting you to come outside and take photos of you in your outfit. And yeah, you were a little excited to do that after all the work that you had put into looking this nice for a fifteen minute bit. It wouldn’t hurt to have proof that you looked good tonight.

You stood up and smoothed out your dress before walking outside into the front yard as your mom called out that she’d be out there in a second as she grabbed the camera.

You didn’t expect anyone else to be outside, but when you stepped out the door you were greeted with the sight of someone standing on the porch.

It was Eddie.

Eddie Munson. 

His hair was freshly washed and his waves were framing his face perfectly. His leather jacket had been discarded for the night and he was wearing a dark gray button-up shirt that looked almost black with the top two buttons undone. The closest you’d ever seen him wear a button up were a few flannels that he wore in the fall and winter. His jeans looked... they looked new. New and dark blue with no holes in them to be seen. The only pieces of his outfit that you recognized were his rings and his reeboks. The twilight had cast a near purple haze over your neighborhood, and Eddie... Eddie looked good in that fading light. 

“Holy shit.” You said, after staring at him like an idiot for a moment. “Who are you and what have you done with Eddie?”

“Ha Ha.” Eddie fake laughed. “I could say the same about you.” 

You felt your cheeks grow warm, unsure if that was a compliment or not. “I... You look good.” you said more genuinely. 

This caused Eddie to shift slightly on his feet. “You look better.”

You could have died on the spot. 

“Wait, what are you doing here?” you asked. “I thought we were meeting up at the school?” 

“You’re coming to the show with me after this anyway.” Eddie explained. “It’d be easier if I just drove both of us. We can still pretend that we didn’t meet up, I can drop you off at the school where no one will see us together and I’ll follow you inside after a few minutes.”

That made sense, you were going to be helping out with set up after the dance anyway. 

“You might have made a mistake coming out here to pick me up, you know.” you said. “My mom will be out here in about two minutes and if she sees you, she’s going to make us take cheesy photos together.”

“I can humor your mom for a few minutes for this.” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, I owe her for being such a loyal customer.”

You stared at him. “Eddie... what do you mean by that?”

He gave you that trademark shit-eating grin, the one that he often used during club when he knew he was about to royally piss everyone off. 

“How else do you think I was able to buy new jeans?” he asked, his brown eyes shining in the lingering twilight. 

“Eddie Munson, you motherfucker, do not tell me that you sell drugs to my own mother-” 

Speak of your mother, and she shall appear with a smile and a camera in hand. You were going to have a long talk with Eddie later about boundaries and selling weed to your mother, even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. 

Your mom quickly ushered you to take some solo pictures of you, and Eddie stood behind her watching with amusement as you awkwardly posed in the way you had seen in some teen magazine that you’d browsed when waiting in line at the grocery store. You felt stiff and awkward until Eddie started making faces behind your mom’s back that had you breaking out into a fit of giggles. He was totally going to give you shit for this later, but you knew he’d have his moment in the spotlight in a moment as well. 

Eddie was next up, but somehow he had no problem casually posing and smiling for your mom’s camera. Asshole. 

Then the couple’s pictures came and your mom made it clear exactly how she had wanted you two to pose. Eddie didn’t even hesitate wrapping his arm around your waist and holding your hand. 

For a few moments, you forgot what was supposed to happen that night. In this moment, you could really believe that you were going on a date with your best friend, and that he was holding your hand because he wanted to, not just because he was being forced to because of a favor. Eddie had always been a good actor, and you thought that if he wasn’t such a metal-and-D&D nerd, he could have been great in the theater department. 

Eddie really was a storyteller at heart. In music, in Dungeons and Dragons, in his doodles, the way he played up his Freak persona, and in this moment with his arms settled on your hips and his head on your shoulder. If Eddie wanted to captivate with a story, he could. 

It’s a shame that a story was all this was. 

Once the two of you were finally released from the watchful eye of your moms camera, Eddie led you to his van. He opened the passenger seat door for you, and even helped you into your seat as if he were a real gentleman. You didn’t think anyone had ever done that for you before. 

“So... is there a plan for how we’re going to do this?” you asked. “We haven’t really talked about how this is going to happen.” 

“What time is your secret admirer supposed to show up?” Eddie asked, the sound of his mixtape crackling through the air. 

“7:30.” 

“Then you’ll go in about five minutes early, stand in the middle of the gym, and at 7:30 I’ll burst in, sweep you off your feet, and then we can blow this joint.” Eddie said. 

“I could use a joint.” you sighed, looking out the window as reality came back. You weren’t a princess, and this wasn’t a fairytale. Eddie was only doing this as a favor, nothing more. 

“I’ll let you have one after we set up for the show.” He promised, pulling his van up to behind the school where no one was going to be dropped off for the dance. “I’ll see you inside in five minutes.” 

You gave him a nod. “See you on the other side, Freak.” 

You slipped to the entrance of the gym, and walked towards the booth where you presented your homecoming ticket. Homecoming had started at 7 pm on the dot and most students were already inside, dancing and giggling and having fun. The sound of the latest pop songs were echoing through the halls outside of the gym. The cheerleader running the ticket booth looked you up and down with a giggle.

“I love your outfit! It’s so... unique!” she gave you a smile that was way too wide and you grit your teeth at the false compliment. You shoved that anger down into your gut, and gave your best fake smile back, hoping that you sounded more sincere. 

“Thank you, so much!” Your voice came out a bit higher pitched than anticipated, but the cheerleader didn’t seem to notice. 

“Your Secret Admirer is going to love it.” She continued, and you felt your stomach twist. Shit, the cheerleaders were in on this too? You wondered how many people were in on this. “He asked me to give you this when you got here.”

She handed you a note, in the same sloppy handwriting as before. 

Meet me in the center of the dance floor at 7:30. 

It was 7:26 right now. You were tempted to make the assholes wait, after all, you wanted to make sure Eddie had a chance to get here before they could. But the cheerleader obviously saw you read the note, and there was no time to turn back. 

Just show up for me. Eddie. You thought to yourself. Although this had been your idea, you were feeling nervous now. You really were about to put yourself out on full display to the school, willingly offering yourself up on a plate to your peers for humiliation. What if this didn’t work? What if Eddie didn’t make it in time? What if something worse happened with Eddie here? 

The short walk from the entrance to the middle of the dance floor felt like slow motion. Your mind felt fuzzy and you hoped that you weren’t shaking from nerves. You stood in the center of the dance floor, and turned to face the single clock in the back of the gym. You could barely make out the time with the distance and dim lights, but you knew it was almost time. 

7:27

7:28

You could do this

7:29

Almost time....

7:30

7:31

Where the fuck was Eddie?

7:32

Did he get held up?

7:33

Did he change his mind?

7:34

Fuck, you could hear the giggling.

7:35

You felt a tap on your shoulder. 

This was it. 

You turned around slowly, waiting for the worst. 

Eddie stood before you, corsage in hand, on one knee as if he was proposing to you. 

Maybe this was the real prank. Maybe the real prank was the one you played on yourself to be able to see your best friend kneeling and smiling up at you, offering you a corsage. 

Time froze for a second as you took in the sight and committed it to memory. 

“I’m glad you made it.” Eddie said, loud enough for anyone to hear. He really did have that natural projection that should have had the theater kids begging him to join them. “I knew you’d respond to my note.”

There was a dull murmur of confusion behind you, and you saw Eddie’s eyes flicker to something that you couldn’t see and he gave you a small nod. 

Fuck, that was your cue. 

You brought your hands up to your mouth, acting like all of the actresses you’d seen on tv who’s characters had been proposed to. You began nodding and accepted the corsage, letting him slide it onto your wrist. 

How had he known what color to get to match your dress? 

Eddie stood up and you threw your arms around him. “I was hoping it was you!” you said loudly, no need to act for this part. Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up and spun you around once. He really was deceptively strong, and you giggled as he set you down. Your lips met his cheek. His arms stayed around you. 

Eddie smiled at you in a way that made your cheeks heat up and your knees feel weak. 

You two were staring at each other. 

The music changed. 

Eddie moved one of his hands from around your waist to grab yours, and the two of you were slow dancing before you even fully knew what was happening. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You asked, following his movements. 

“You said you wanted to really sell this that we were together now.” Eddie said, keeping his eyes on you. “I don’t know how many people would believe it if I showed up and we immediately left. It wouldn’t exactly be memorable.” 

“Right, good point.” you agreed. 

“I always have good points, that’s why I’m the dungeon master.” Eddie chuckled, “Besides, it’d be a shame that you put in this much effort to look good for little old me to not show you off. What kind of boyfriend would I be? I have to make sure that I get a reputation for being a mean and scary freak, but also a decent date.”

Boyfriend. 

“Shit.” you said quietly. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows furrowing with a frown. 

“I didn’t think about what happens after this. You agreed to be my fake date, but I don’t want you to feel trapped with me after this.” you said. “Yeah, this’ll get everyone off my back for now but when school starts again, I don’t want you to feel like you have to act like we’re together.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Eddie said. “It’s not like my dating life is thriving here anyway. Between you and me, I’m a little too old for those who dare try and get with the Freak here.”

You let out a small laugh. “Tired of one night stands with girls who just want bragging rights?” 

“After the third time, I was starting to feel like I was cheating on my right hand.”

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, erupting into a fit of giggles. This felt right, this relaxed moment with Eddie. This is how it was supposed to feel with someone, right? It was supposed to be easy, and with Eddie it always was. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” you said after your giggles had died down. “I really owe you one.”

“I thought this plan was me owing you one.” Eddie asked. 

“This is honestly above and beyond helping you get a passing grade for a test.” you admitted. “I know you have your show tonight, and you hate doing anything for school. Plus, you showed up wearing this and you spent money on jeans and the corsage- oh, thank you for the corsage-”

“Hey,” Eddie snapped you out of your rambling. “Don’t act like you forced me to do anything. You said I had full creative control tonight. I chose to do all this for you.”

“Why?” you asked, meeting his eyes. “You could have so easily told me to just fuck off and said no.”

“I’ll admit this wasn’t exactly my idea of how this night was going to go.” Eddie said. “But then you said that you wanted the Freak to show up for you. I wanted to know what would happen if it was just Eddie.” 

“Just Eddie...” you said quietly. Not the Freak, not the satanic cult leader, not the dungeon master. Just Eddie, your friend. “I’m glad that just Eddie was the one to show up.” your mouth went dry. “I- ...Eddie I-”

The two of you had stopped moving in slow circles, Eddie was closer than he had ever been to you before. You forgot where you were and Eddie was leaning closer to you, his mouth opening as if he was going to say something. 

And that’s when it happened. 

Whatever it was, it was room temperature, and sticky. It dripped down from your hair, down your face and onto your dress. You looked down to see pools of red flooding below you on the gym floor, and then your head shot up to see Eddie, covered in the same sticky substance with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

Blood? Was that actually blood?! Was Eddie bleeding? Were you? Wait, had someone actually dumped pigs blood on you?

Eddie wiped his face, smearing the substance on his skin and hand and carefully brought it to his face and sniffed it, and then gave it a small lick.

“Corn syrup.” he said and looked at you, his eyes wide in shock. 

“You mean this was a Carrie situation?!” you asked in a loud whisper as the two of you stared at each other. You looked around, and saw the group of jocks laughing and high fiving each other. One of them was holding an old paint bucket. Your body froze, and you couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Those assholes had thrown fake blood on you and Eddie. They won. You fucked up. Eddie did so much for you tonight and you never even considered that the jocks would be smart enough to adjust their plans to account for Eddie being here-

Then Eddie started laughing, like really laughing. It was that genuine laugh that you’d heard a hundred times when the party came up with a stupid plan to get past one of Eddie’s challenges in Hellfire. 

He looked at you, with a spark in his eyes and a grin that was manic. 

His laughter was so contagious, that you found yourself laughing as well. You heard the laughter from the jocks start to die down and turn into mutters of confusion. The whole gym seemed to go silent, and you think the DJ stopped the music but you were laughing too much to care. 

How fucking rediculous was this? It was almost too obvious what they had set up, but you didn’t think they were this unoriginal. How did they even sneak in the bucket? How did no faculty or staff react to this?!

“I guess the Freak is showing up, anyway.” Eddie laughed and looked at you. “Let’s give them the show they want.”

Eddie’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck and started pulling you in. Instinct took over and you gripped at his stained shirt and then your lips met. The kiss was met with gasps and oohs and shouts from around you, but you didn’t care. Eddie was kissing you, and you were kissing him back. The two of you must have looked like a spectacle, covered in fake blood and making out with him in the middle of the dance floor after laughing like maniacs.

“Stop that, right now you two!” you heard a teacher yell, and that’s when Eddie pulled back.

“Feel free to kill me for that later, okay?” That wild smile was still on his face. 

“I think we should run now.” you agreed, deciding that whatever had just happened within the last 30 seconds could be processed later. You could see a few teachers starting to finally take action and start to run over, and the jocks were now scattering. Even though you and Eddie were the victims here, you didn’t really feel like sticking around. Whatever would happen with the school, could wait until Monday.

Eddie grabbed your hand, flipped off the few jocks that were still gawking, and the two of you took off running through the exit doors of the gym, the two of you laughing and cackling like mad. 

“Fake blood!” you yelled as the two of you dashed across the parking lot. “They threw fake blood on us!” 

“They actually spent money to get that much corn syrup and dye!” Eddie laughed, opening the door to his van for you again. 

“Shit, it’s gonna get all over your van.” you said, taking your seat anyway and buckling up. 

“That’s the least worrying thing I’ve spilled in here. Don’t worry about it.” He said, hopping into the driver side seat. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t think they had it in them!”

“Eddie, they ruined your new clothes.” You frowned, looking at him. The fake blood was starting to dry to your skin, and you could see it starting to give Eddie’s hair an odd texture in certain areas. 

“They also ruined your dress.” 

“Yeah, but I was never going to wear this again.” you said. 

“And I was going to ruin these clothes anyway.” he shrugged and started the car, peeling out of the parking lot like a bat out of Hell. Eddie’s lead foot hit the gas and the two of you were speeding down the road, out of town towards the quarry. 

“Holy shit.” you said, leaning against the seat as the adrenaline faded. 

“I think that could’ve gone worse.” Eddie said, still smiling. “I think the blood really adds to Corroded Coffin’s whole thing.” 

You shook your head, grabbing some napkins from the floor and wiping your hands off. “Shit, do we owe them a thanks now? Should we send them a fruit basket?” 

“Nah, they’ll get what they deserve. A slap on the wrist for pulling this stunt at a school function.” Eddie glanced at you with a wry grin. 

“Right, why do I feel like they’ll get off easy but somehow we’re gonna be the ones in trouble on Monday?” You rolled your eyes and lowered your voice in a horrible imitation of Principal Higgins. “Yes, those two played a harmless prank by dumping corn syrup on you, but you two displayed unsightly behavior in front of everyone in some sort of Hellish ritual-”

“Ouch. I didn’t think I was that bad of a kisser.” 

You stopped talking and suddenly the corn syrup felt sticky and uncomfortable. You still hadn’t been able to digest the fact that the two of you had kissed- no, you two had full on made-out in front of the whole student body. Had there been tongue? You honestly couldn’t remember. 

An awkward silence settled over the two of you and you were unsure of what to say. You wanted to tell him that no, he wasn’t a bad kisser at all. You wanted to be smooth and say something like “Well, I wasn’t really paying attention before, how about we try again?”. You wanted to say anything to indicate that you liked it and very much wanted to do it again. 

Instead the two of you sat in the loudest silence you had ever been in as the two of you drove the long strip down to the quarry. You scolded yourself, thinking that saying anything had to be better than saying nothing. 

And yet no words came out.

This was supposed to be a one shot in April. Now it's a three-shot. Do NOT let me write more than three chapters. The third chapter is almost done. There will be smut.

Divider by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @supernaturalstilinski @wonderlanddreamer @princesssunderworld @kores-mun-son-n-more @munsonfiles

@ladysilence @ghcstpyre @avalon-wolf @huffledor-able541 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@i-trash-about-things

[selvepnea]

Alienation sucks

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[cinnamonest]

In desperate need of older reader content

:(((

//Big age gap with ambiguously aged teenage boys, cheating on NPC husband, dubcon (reader is kinda consenting for once lmao but the first time is questionable in how it begins)

I've had this modern AU idea rotting in my brain for AGES anon, I hesitated to make it but you’ve given me courage, bless you anon

Consider Xingqiu + Chongyun and the sweet older lady that lives in the neighborhood… a neglected housewife with a husband who’s always absent, always on “work trips” and being generally suspicious and never pays you any attention…

You have the typical boys-next-door of the neighborhood — well, they're not actually right next door, one lives a few houses down, the other in that fancy rich neighborhood adjacent to yours — but the two come around your house quite a lot. It's kind of sweet how you've gotten to watch them grow up, you remember when they were very little, running by your house with bikes or kites or whatever they were playing with, and watch them slowly get bigger and older, hear their distant voices chattering get deeper and lower over time.

Sometimes you wave, they wave back.

They come to recognize you. They pass by when you're doing yardwork. You exchange a hey, boys! with a mutually enthusiastic hi miss!, and occasionally, you tell them to be safe because it's supposed to rain soon or because it's getting dark, met with a don't worry, we will! reassurance of some kind.

They're so cute, so endearing. You go out of your way to say hi each time you see them.

Eventually, you finally have a direct, up-close interaction — it's a particularly hot day, you call out to them to ask if they want something cold to drink, and they gladly take you up on the offer.

They're so cute, you think. Teenagers now, bright-eyed and full of that youthful sort of excitement and bliss, not yet old enough to be worn down by the difficulties or mundaneness of life nor have a damper put on their overly-positive outlook on life and the world. You find yourself smiling as you ask them questions about school and what they like to do and their plans for the future and they respond gushing with visible excitement and energy.

And then, they swing by the next day, sheepishly making their way up to you to ask if you have any more. You laugh and smile and tell them of course.

The same thing happens the next day, and the next day. You go out of your way to get some teen-boy-approved type of snacks the next time you go grocery shopping, which end up rapidly disappearing from your fridge and pantry.

You learn them, their similarities and differences, their interests and strengths. Xingqiu is more the academic type, Chongyun is more involved in athletics. You listen to them excitedly ramble about the “important” things going on in their lives, high-school level drama and such, the sort that seems to be of a much greater significance and weight to kids their age, who have no frame of reference for anything more serious than that. You give exaggerated reactions of awe and pride when they boast about their achievements, and it does warm your heart to see that that always makes them more excited to keep going on about it.

With that, you develop a very… wholesome sort of relationship. They start coming by more often.

And more and more often. Nearly each day. It's a very strange situation, yet it just feels natural because you get accustomed to it — instead of going back to their own homes, they head to your place right after they're let out from school. You feed them (they're teenage boys, they're eating more in one sitting than you do in an entire day), talk to them, you've even helped with homework every now and then, for subjects you're knowledgeable in. They seem to really love coming over to your house, and, well, you're often very lonely, and you appreciate them as well.

The neighbors have all seen them going to your place each day, some of them jokingly ask how “your boys” are doing. It’s endearing, really, and always makes you smile.

You know it's not exactly normal, but at the same time, if they trust you and depend on you and cling to you so much, they must not have another source for that — from what they've said, both have very busy and/or somewhat emotionally distant parents, which makes you feel bad for them, tugs at your heart, makes you feel like you should be sure to be there for them and be available when they need you. Like you have a responsibility to be there.

Which leads to you taking on perhaps an even greater role of keeping tabs on them, being responsible for them. You even get a call from the school once when one gets sick, asking you to come pick him up, which he thanks you for repeatedly, but still doesn't seem to treat the matter as quite as unusual as you feel it is. Regardless, you find yourself taking him to your house to recover rather than his own, at his own request.

They're almost a little too comfortable, but it's more comical to you than anything — they reach a point where now, they just come sauntering into your house after school, backpacks dumped onto the floor and flopping onto your couch as if it were their own house. One time when you were home alone, you went out to get groceries, only to nearly have a heart attack when greeted with a hello! as soon as you stepped through your front door when you came back. Turns out they figured out you keep a spare key under the welcome mat… they help you put the groceries away, though. Such sweet boys.

Yes, they’re sweet, helpful, bright-eyed, energetic… even if sometimes, they get a little strange.

Nothing that isn't standard teen boy stuff, though, you tell yourself. You find evidence of their presence in oddly private areas of your home — your bedroom door hanging open when you're pretty sure you shut it earlier, an open drawer, missing clothes, so on and so on.

It's odd, but you don't exactly know how to really go about confronting them, the idea feels awkward and uncomfortable. Not to mention, doubt and paranoia cloud your reasoning — what if there's a perfectly legitimate reason, and then you ruin things by making false accusations? What if you're imagining it? You ultimately decide to try and shake off the creeping feeling of something being wrong.

Worst case scenario, they're being… weird. But teenage boys are like that, aren't they? Raging hormones and all. It's a little unpleasant, but you're sure they'll mature out of such behaviors, if that really is the case. It's nothing too serious.

And then they start getting touchy.

When they help you carry things in (so sweet of them, isn’t it?), you notice that over time, they grow comfortable with your arms and hands brushing against each other. They stand closer to you when leaning over to see what you’re making whenever you’re running around in the kitchen (of course, usually accompanied by asking if it's for them or if they can have some), shoulders bumping against yours. They scoot their chair much closer to yours when you’re helping them with their homework, eventually to where your thighs touch.

Waving goodbye when they go home at the end of the day turns into big hugs. Both of them do so in a way that you just can't shake the feeling of being somehow wrong. Xingqiu pulls your chest against his perhaps just a bit too firmly. Chongyun holds his hands lower down on your back than you feel comfortable with. But then they both flash you such sweet smiles and promise to see you later, and your momentary concerns feel trivial.

Your naive belief in their innocence begins to fall apart, though, because Chongyun is significantly less skilled at keeping up feigned ignorance.

The idea that you were being paranoid, or imagining things, quickly begins to fade from your mind when you notice how blatantly sheepish he begins to become as time goes by. He stops looking you in the eye, stammers and fidgets and squirms when trying to speak to you. As if feeling guilty, as if having done something wrong.

Xingqiu is much better at it — almost scarily so. If it were just him, you'd never notice a thing, and you’re not sure how to feel about that realization. You’re pretty sure he could do something right in front of you and then convince you you did it instead, with how flawlessly he can change his tone and expressions and answer questions in ways that not only fail to answer, but give the impression of an answer, then distract away to another topic before you can even think enough to realize what a non-answer the response he gives is.

You only caught onto it one time, and then when you started to think back, you realized how many times he’s done the exact same thing in the past, all without you ever realizing… those rich business families must have some kind of genetic predisposition to conversation manipulation. Still, it’s nothing malicious, he didn’t do anything wrong, you’re pretty sure at least… he just seems to steer away from anything having to do with the odd occurrences of things that go missing or were different from how you left them.

Still, it reaches a point where you really can’t delude yourself.

But it's nothing serious. It's not enough to warrant saying anything. That’s what you tell yourself.

Because if it were that serious, you’d have to say something. And if you say something, well, that’s… hard. Awkward. Difficult to summon the gall for, especially towards two young, innocent boys who have never done anything really bad to you, who have always been so helpful and sweet, who are just being the way boys that age are, right? It’s ultimately harmless.

You’d ruin things between you all, you’d hurt them. You can’t have that. They’re too precious. They keep you company, they help you out, you’ve gotten so used to their presence in your life, you can’t have that ruined. Thus, you say nothing. Yes, it’s all just normal, it’s no big deal. Soon enough they’ll start getting involved with girls their age anyway, and stop messing with you so much.

Except there's one more issue... that thing where they seem to really not like your husband.

The moment he comes up, they both take a negative attitude. Granted, one day you do end up more or less breaking down as you find yourself venting and lamenting your miserable marriage — how he’s never home, how he’s always doing suspicious things that hurt your heart, how he never treats you to anything, never remembers anniversaries or birthdays, never says anything nice to you… you only pause and start stammering apologies when you notice how quiet they both get, but they insist it’s fine, and follow up by muttering about how you deserve better… you smile and pat their heads.

You really meant the whole thing as mere venting, so it makes you feel bad when, seeing as your birthday falls very shortly after that conversation, they both get you things on said birthday. Chongyun’s is something he made himself, albeit on a very low budget, Xingqiu’s is the inverse, some piece of jewelry that’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever owned… and they remembered even when your husband didn’t. It makes you feel guilty, like maybe you baited them by inducing their pity, but they both seem so happy to give you something, and even when you say they didn’t have to do that, they insist they wanted to… maybe it’s alright, then. They were already sweet to you too, of course, but you notice that they give you compliments and such more frequently too.

Regardless, you notice that even before your complaining, they both sort of scowl when your husband is mentioned, even more so after you reveal the rocky state of your marriage. There’s an unmistakable resentment in some comments they make — you start talking about how you’re worried that you spent too much on groceries and will make him mad, to which you get a scoff and a ‘well who cares what he thinks?’, or, when you’re worried the house isn’t presentable enough for your husband coming home, you get a shrug and mutter, ‘he can just deal with it…’

Your husband doesn’t exactly care for them either. You mention it to him because you feel you should, although apparently neighbors already informed him of the matter. You get a few gruff comments about how bizarre and inappropriate it is that you’re letting two teen boys just sit around in your house. Every now and then, you get snapped at in irritation about a piece of a wrapper left on the sofa or a pencil left on the table, how it’s because you let those damn teenagers stay in your house, how you’re draining his hard-earned money on feeding them, so on and so on.

They only actually interact once, seeing as the man gets home so late each day that it’s usually long after both boys have left for the day, but one time their presence does overlap — it’s very awkward. You didn’t hear the car pull up to the house, so when he comes walking in, the two boys quickly get their things together and scurry out the door, all without exchanging a word, although the tension and glaring is palpable. You’re reminded that he tolerates you having them there, and that he had better not come home to find them in his house so late again. You nod your head — but you still let them stay fairly long each day… now they make no attempt to hide their disgust each time you mention your spouse.

Their increasing negativity towards him, their increasing affection towards you — there’s a sort of tension that builds over time. Every party involved feels it, you’re certain, one of those things where everyone knows what’s happening and no one acknowledges it out loud.

By the time it happens, they're so comfortable that it's practically nonchalant, and for you, well, somehow you don’t feel particularly surprised. It feels more like something you knew was going to happen, but maybe pretended in the forefront of your mind that you didn’t know, that it wasn’t inevitable.

Likewise, it happens so quickly that you barely register anything as it happens, it doesn’t sink in as real until it’s too late and you’re already too far into it.

You don’t remember, afterwards, exactly what you were doing — were you helping them with homework at the kitchen table, or were you all watching a movie on your couch beforehand? You’re not sure. You only remember feeling an unusual palpable energy in the air, them looking back and forth at each other as if to confirm to move ahead with some premeditated plan. You remember that it was Chongyun that initiated it, to some extent—

I— I mean, we wanted to, uh, talk to you about something, and, ah…

He seems to lose his words halfway through, and sort of pathetically looks over at the other, as if silently begging for help, which is met with a sigh and a few back and forth comments as you stare on in bewilderment — that ‘no, you were supposed to do that part,’ or ‘no, YOU were supposed to do that,’ so on and so forth, until they both seem to just give up on whatever the plan was and go for it instead.

That’s where it becomes a bit of a blur. You don’t remember which one grabbed you first, which one’s mouth met yours first.

You think you said a few things to deter them, obligatory statements of how I can’t, I’m married and the other standard lines you’re supposed to say because you have some sense of guilt and honor, don't you? You have to deny them the first time, it's only right.

And yet, you’re pretty sure your resistance didn’t last long.

The reality of it all doesn’t sink in until you’re at the point where you can no longer bring yourself to care, too lost in excitement and ecstasy and basking in the feeling of being so intensely desired, until you’re on your knees with one in your mouth and one from behind (although later, you can’t recall which was which at first — they switched up a few times, you’re pretty sure). You don’t even remember how many times they came inside you, only that you felt some vague alarm the first time, but stopped caring soon after, letting yourself be bent over your couch and put on your knees on the floor, letting your mind melt away, focusing only on pleasure and longing and, in the back of your mind, a twinge of guilt knowing that maybe you knew this was what they wanted all along.

Good thing your husband was on another one of his business trips. You’re pretty sure he’d be furious to know you took them upstairs and continued all night long on his own bed thereafter, eventually all falling asleep there too, with you sandwiched in between… only to wake up and go at it again the next morning. It’s Saturday, after all, they have to fill their time with something other than school.

You have different sets of issues, after that day. You’re not worried about their affections being inappropriate — you’ve long since accepted that, now you’re just a little worried about how they keep pressuring you to divorce and move in with one of them (Xingqiu reminds you his family is very very wealthy, this in turn upsets Chongyun, who insists he’s trying to ‘win you over’ which is ‘unfair’ to him). You don’t worry about your missing clothes or their touches, those are no longer an issue… now your biggest concern is keeping their voracious sex drives at bay, which it turns out you severely underestimated, and you have TWO to deal with on top of that, practically getting pounded and plowed at every opportunity.

Then you have to worry about how virile they probably are… you’re not on birth control, seeing as your husband has demanded you have a kid. He might get one, even if not how he expected… and then you have to worry about giving both boys equal affection, lest you hurt one’s feelings or make them jealous… and then you have to worry about your poor weary body, which can barely keep up with them…

And, of course, you worry about the inevitable, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before things fall apart, one way or another. A matter of time before they decide to ‘deal with’ your husband — you heard them use that exact verbiage muttering to themselves, only for them to go silent once they saw you. A matter of time before they do something, and you get the feeling that you're not going to like whatever something is.

Yes, you know things can’t stay in this limbo forever… and that worries you, no matter how much you try to put it off and pretend things are fine and tell yourself you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it, only to find the bridge is growing closer with each day. After-school threesomes on a limited schedule can only keep them content for so long, especially when they've already started to push the limits of how long they can stay, how many times they can go, insisting you can get one more round in before your husband comes home.

At least you’re pretty sure no one else knows. The neighbors still ask you how “your boys” are, and seem to do so with endearment, with no trace of any concern or outrage or disgust.

You haven’t changed your answer in all the time they’ve asked — you always smile and say they’re doing just great. Perhaps that’s even more true now than it was before.

[cuubism]

some kind of sheltered rich boy dream / feral child hob high school/college au that stuck itself in my brain and won't leave

...

"Did you truly spend your childhood here?"

Hob paused where he was picking up more stones, presumably to chuck them at passing trees, cocking his head at Dream. "D'you mean living in the woods, like a feral animal? I thought we went over that."

Dream sighed. "I meant playing in the woods."

Hob lurched upright again to catch up with where Dream was still walking on the path and, true to Dream's suppositions, hurled one of his scavenged stones off into the underbrush. It made a satisfying swish-thwack sound off in the distance. "Why's that so shocking to you? Kids love mud and frogs and stuff."

"You still love mud and frogs and 'stuff.'"

"Don't you?"

Dream looked up at the tree cover, and the orange rays of sunset filtering through the branches. He had never been to this part of the forest before. It was far enough away from any surrounding towns to still be dense and untamed, the underbrush thick and tangled, the path winding and poorly tended.

Not that Dream had been to any part of the forest much at all, not even the parts closer to home.

"I suppose. I can't say I have much experience with either."

Hob kicked aside some sticks that were blocking the path. He was always so active, so expressive. Dream was so used to clasping his hands that he didn't know what to do with them when no one was watching. "So what'd you do, then? Stay in the house all the time?"

"We have a garden," Dream told him. A very beautiful, very perfect garden. "It's very well tended. I doubt mother would tolerate a frog."

"Should do," said Hob, sadly. "They're brilliant. So you've never been just out in the wild at all?"

"I have not run unattended through the forest like a squirrel, no."

"Shame," said Hob, and then grabbed his hand. "No time like the present, then!"

And he took off down the path, dragging Dream along behind him. Hob was much faster than him, and certainly fitter too, and Dream nearly tripped and fell several times trying to keep up, but didn't let go of Hob's hand. His nice school loafers skidded on the wet leaves. His tie flapped along over his shoulder. Dream could not remember the last time he had been so out of breath, the last time his heart had beaten in his chest like so.

"Shit!" Hob yelled, and skidded to a stop.

Dream was not so fast, and quickly learned what had brought such an abrupt end to Hob's run. The path veered off sharply to the right above a steep embankment, and Dream's momentum carried him right over the edge, dragging Hob with him.

The next few moments were a tumble of dirt and leaves and flashes of sky, Hob's laughter, Dream's very unbecoming shriek. Then a splash, as they landed in the shallow brook at the bottom of the embankment.

Hob was still laughing as Dream pushed himself upright, took stock of himself. His trousers and the back of his blazer were drenched and mud-soaked, certainly ruined; his socks sloshed in his shoes; his tie was twisted and mangled around his neck. Hob looked no better, wet and muddy and with leaves stuck in his hair. Only on Hob, there was a natural ease to it, a sense that he would pick himself up with a grin and go on like that. Dream was certain he himself looked merely disheveled and ridiculous.

"You've discovered mud, good for you," Hob said, grinning at him. How could he still look so bright, with mud smeared over his forehead? "And there's a beetle in your hair."

Dream found it and plucked it out, moved to toss it away or perhaps to crush it, as he might have done at home -- but paused. Held it in his palm instead. Had he ever looked at them before? Its fine, intricate legs were really quite remarkable. Its shell iridescent and changing in the light. Its antennae waved at him.

He put it down on the side of the brook, and when he looked back, found Hob gazing at him with an expression he could only interpret as fond.

"Beetles look good on you," he said, and this brought Dream back from the warm place he had started to slip to, there in the glow of Hob's attention, and to reality again.

"Mother will be furious," he said quietly, and hated himself for the smallness of his voice. Dream had never before wished to be anyone other than himself, even when that self chafed and bled against its surroundings. But since meeting Hob, he'd begun to wish he could be in the world the way Hob was -- unapologetic, exuberant, pushing back.

At first, Hob just looked fondly exasperated, even frustrated, as he'd been on occasion, by Dream's unwillingness to ever break a rule. But he must have caught something in Dream's tone that he hadn't before, for he shifted closer, still in the water and getting even more soaked, expression creasing in concern.

"Hey." He laid a tentative hand on Dream's arm. "It'll be alright, yeah? It's just some clothes, in the end. I bet the dry cleaner's can even get it out."

Dream shook his head. It was not about the clothes. Nothing so reasonable as waste or expense would anger his mother. No, she could buy a new uniform easily enough, but how dare one of her children be seen with a hair out of place, how dare Dream put a foot wrong. Stumble? Fall? As if this weren't bad enough, Dream had also lied about where he was going, because there was no way he would have been allowed out of the house otherwise, and this was already a grave offense, and now there was proof.

It was always very unwise to anger either of Dream's parents.

But no matter what was waiting to come down upon his head, he was not going to cry. It was always unwise to cry. And he did not want Hob to think him even more pathetic than he doubtless already thought Dream was.

Dream steeled himself, clenching his hands in the river bottom for a long moment. The cold slip of the mud, the crunch of the rocks was surprisingly soothing. Then let go, and let the river water wash the dirt away. "You are right, of course. Only. Mud."

"Only that," Hob agreed, smiling at him again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He would have lovely wrinkles there when he was older, Dream thought. Hob took his hand, and looked at his palm, perfectly smooth and clean again after the water had washed over it. "At least you weren't hurt in that tumble, yeah? That's what's most important."

For the moment, Dream let home wash away from him with the river water, and focused on his hand in Hob's. It felt like peace. "What's most important," he echoed. "Yes."

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

I loved Buddy this episode. Exactly the energy I love to see. He remains Completely Mostly-Deliberately Fanatical, but to the point where even the people who coerced him into joining their new religion are like 'You're!!! Doing it wrong!!!!' And Buddy's just like 'I have faith in Bakarath :)' I love him, I love that for him, I love Buddy Dawn so much, please don't die, Buddy, I just wanna have you floatin' around being a silly little uses-his-high-wis-stat-to-deliberately-fail-all-insight-checks-on-himself guy forever.

I wanna see Buddy at the end of this approach Fig like a little lost puppy asking her about Ankarna, but not in the soft explorative way that Bucky is curious about Kristen's relationship with Cassandra, in a way that's like 'I've been in a right tumble dryer lately and was wondering what exactly The Correct Worldview to attach my entire soul and sense of self to is.'

Want him to be a complete mess most of senior year as he keeps looking for new things to attach himself to. Every few weeks he changes his style to reflect the new thing he's trying on as a replacement for developing an independent sense of self.

Want him to be three quarters of the way through senior year before he even thinks to talk to Jawbone. That or they've been having mandatory councilor sessions all fall, and it's only as the Moonar Yulenear is coming up that Bucky starts Acting Like A Person for little flashes, where his entire attitude and personality is not some ironclad manifestation of what he believes The Correct Person To Be is, and instead he just. Genuinely loudly laughs at a joke that a few months ago he would've simply given a polite sensible chuckle to and said 'Oh, that's a good one'. He lets his face fall into a bored exhaustion in a class and the teacher asks him if something's wrong and he snaps back to, but it still happened. The omnipresent 'Good God Fearing Boy' persona slipped and he was a bored teen for a second. He tries a heavily caffeinated drink in the same way one might try a beer for the first time and suddenly he's being a little silly twirling his staff around and stumbling over his sentences a little more as his brain whirrs.

He cries and he breaks something and there's this icky complicated cocktail of emotions because getting angry is bad and being upset is bad; he was taught that all his life and then it was proven correct when he was resurrected by a false manifestation of a dead goddess worshipped in her true form by the archdevil of rebellion who spent the entire school year playing mindgames with the bard in Buddy's party who were using him.

But Jawbone keeps saying it's important to feel your feelings, which is a very silly thing of Jawbone to keep emphasizing, because Buddy always feels his feelings, it's not like he just unilaterally fends every emotion off as if it'll be his inevitable downfall. There's The Good Feelings and The Bad Feelings, and The Good Feelings come from The Good Things and The Bad Feelings are temptations into evil he must not indulge. He chooses to identify with the Correct Feelings To Be Feeling, obviously. Because you're supposed to do that. And anger and upset are never correct. It was a lesson he had to learn the hard, painful way because he was a stupid, flimsy kid who needed to see the real truth up close and personal. That's why all that stuff happened to him. Why the Rat Griders were so dismissive of him. Why Kristen was trying to build bridges with him.

So why did he just shatter the mug his grandfather gifted him after his baptism when he remembered how Oisin and Ivy seemingly constantly side-eyed him every time he spoke. At least it felt that way. Buddy's very used to constantly feeling observed, he probably just imagined that.

They're not exactly alive to ask anymore.

What do you MEAN my silly post about how I think Buddy's insistence that Bakarath is For Sure The Name You Guys is cute and funny turned into ANOTHER Buddy Dawn fanfic???

[purpurussy]

I feel like the "dan is bi" anon is trolling but just in case they're genuinely confused: yes dan said in BIG that he loved and felt attracted to his high school gf (although he also made it pretty clear that they did not have sex so idk where anon is getting the idea that he has slept with "multiple women" 💀), and he alluded to his attraction not being confined to a specific gender in the part where he talked about labels, but you're completely taking all of that wildly out of context and missing the point of the whole video by calling him bi. I feel like this is probably the part that's frying their brain:

(shoutout to the legend @goldenpinof for this transcript!)

But firstly, imo it was very clear from BIG, as well as other stuff he's said over the years, that he just doesn't like labels. Which I find very valid, it took me a long time to figure out how to label myself. I still don't know what my gender is lmao but I started saying "bi" for my sexuality because it's a widely-used term that gets the point across. And I think that's the thing here: he came to the conclusion that the labels "gay" and "queer" are the best descriptors of his identity, which do the most accurate job of approximating something extremely psychologically complex and multilayered and nuanced in a simple everyday term that gets the point across to other people.

Obviously words mean things and it doesn't make sense to just pick a label at random (like for example it wouldn't make sense for me to identify as a lesbian, since I definitely feel attraction to men as well as women and everything outside the binary, and am interested in acting on that attraction at times, so I wouldn't be conveying accurate information to other people if I used the label lesbian for myself) but a label is just supposed to serve the task of conveying relevant information to other people (if a lesbian feels some kind of abstract attraction to dan and phil, that doesn't mean that the alphabet council needs to immediately revoke their lesbian card!! Since the word "lesbian" still does a perfectly good job of conveying relevant information to other people. Likewise if a straight dude has a fun little gay dalliance with his college roommate, but has absolutely 0 interest in men beyond that incident, it wouldn't be remotely necessary for him to start calling himself bi if he didn't want to, because what would be the point in that if he's only interested in women? Like if he told a gay dude who found him attractive that he's bi, only to backtrack... Do you see what I'm saying here?). It's perfectly valid for Dan to use "gay" and "queer" as umbrella terms that in his opinion do the best job of describing him, out of the language that's available. If he's like essentially a kinsey >5 and decided to just round it off to a 6 at this point, who are you to tell him he can't lmao

(shoutout to the legend @goldenpinof for this transcript!

Human sexuality is often way too complicated to boil it down to a single label in a way that doesn't erase any of its nuance, and I feel like this is something he's struggled with in the past, especially with him being a public figure. He's mentioned multiple times that feeling like he had to choose a label was a factor that prolonged his decision to come out.

And this is not even getting into the impact that his trauma from his childhood and also from spending a chunk of his formative years in the public eye probably had on the way he identifies or the way he chooses to label himself. It clearly took so much courage and strength for him to finally be able to call himself gay/queer please have some respect for our brave troops

Ultimately the point is that he uses the labels "gay" and "queer", not "bi", and it really shouldn't be difficult to respect that. It's also not biphobic for him to choose not use the label "bi" (again speaking as someone who uses that label). It's just that he feels "gay"/"queer" are better descriptors for him and nobody gets to determine that except him!! :) He wants people to know he's gay so he calls himself gay and that's that on that.

There are definitely people on here who are way smarter and more well-educated than me who would've done a much better job eloquently discussing this topic without rambling all over the place but that's my take (if anyone would like to add to this please do so, I'm always open to learn more about topics like this. And I'm also not saying that the way I see it is the only objectively correct opinion, but anon is definitely wrong so 💀). Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[theology101]

Fabian and Adaine have me absolutely bewitched and its going to be everyone's problem

Im writing a fic for the two of them were they sorta do the awkward 'are we dating or just Good Friends who spend time together without other Friends' to 'fake date to fix her money problems' and then 'actually we were in love the entire time.' I'm not 100% on my order of events yet but I have a bunch of vignettes stuck in my head and its easier for my brain to expell them at an audience

Moggy the Doggy and the Hangman both go to the Spectral Dog park, Fabian and Adaine want to get Hangman comfortable in his hellhound form (although they respect that he prefers to be a bike)

For some reason whenever Adaine needs new clothes, she goes with Fabian? Something about the good vibes from the Jean Jacket means she thinks he's a lucky charm for clothes

While out in public Adaine has a panic attack, and Fabian swaddled her in the Battle Sheet. She initially thinks its patronizing before realizing - is this shit thread count seven billion?

After the Swaddle Incident, Fig and Kristen start VIOLENTLY shipping them, and that inspires the 'lets get engaged for tax purposes'

Fabian has an additional fund for his betrothed/spouse/SO, and KVX starts giving Adaine three thousand gold pieces a month

Jawbone, Gorthulax and Sandra Lynn are all pretty hype about this development - Sandra Lynn has her fucking eyes on him though. Adaine immediately feels guilty about lying

Hallariel flies home fucking immediately and forces Adaine to spend an entire Weekend with her. I'm talking Spa Day, Dress Fitting, Sword Dueling and a bunch of traditional elven activities

(and Adaine def doesn't cry because she's having the type of elven family experience with Hallariel that she wishes she had with Arianwen Abernant)

Turns out KVX has a similar system as the 'nemesis' system for spouses/signifgant others. Adaine would not be getting her three thousand gold a month unless she and Fabian genuinely did love each other

The reaction from that makes her vomit

The Bad Kids have to deal with Princess Nara being a BITCH. She's Fabian's cousin, wants her fucking sword back, thank you very much, and thinks that the Elven Oracle slumming it at High School and on adventures instead of leading a fucking nation like she's supposed to

Fabian and Adaine are backing each other up with so much passion and authority they kiss about it when they're done

And idk how we get here, but she's proposing herself with rings from the Jacket of Useful Things

I have more that are still half baked but if anyone else has any hit me dog. This shit is going to be 5k words+ a chapter when I'm done with her and I'm debating on 1-5 chapters rn

[direwombat]

another wip wednesday another dollar. tagged by the beloved @socially-awkward-skeleton

got a couple things cookin' on the stove, so to start, here's a bit towards the end of katc ch 7 wherein shaw is helping syb escape st francis after her emergency appendectomy. still very rough/unedited (as evident by an instance of brackets) and subject to change but here's something

“Because I made a mistake and now I’m trying to fix it.” He grips her by the shoulders and squeezes them tight. Firmly, he says, “Listen to me: Augustine is alive. You need to find him.”  

In a flash, she grabs him by the collar and drags him towards her. “Where is he?” she snarls -- teeth bared, eyes narrow. She shakes him for good measure. “Where the fuck is he?” 

He lifts his hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t know,” he says. “Most likely somewhere in the Valley or Henbane.” 

“So help me, if you lyin’…” She has no idea how she's going to finish that threat -- just that it involves excessive and horrific violence.  

“I’m not! I’m just --” he cuts himself off at the sounds of low chatter and approaching footsteps. “Someone’s coming. Get on the truck. You need to hide. Now!” 

With a harsh shove, her back falls onto the bed of the truck, and her legs are quickly swept into the air as the man lifts the tailgate. She rolls onto her belly and crawls between white boxes bearing the symbol of Eden’s Gate. The motions press and pull at the tender skin of her abdomen, held together by a series of sutures. She bites her tongue to prevent herself from hissing through her teeth. Once she’s nestled herself between two that have been securely strapped down, her rescuer throws a tarp over cargo, further obscuring her from view. 

As he finishes securing the covering, the approaching footsteps come to a halt near the truck. “Brother Shaw,” drawls a feminine voice. The name tickles her brain with a sense of familiarity, but she brushes it aside. She’s had so many fleeting interactions with people in her time as a deputy sheriff. It isn’t out of the realm of possibility this Shaw was one of them. 

“We missed you at the service this evening,” the woman continues. “Is everything alright?” Her light and airy tone is belied by a cruel sneer; spoken like a high school hall monitor with an inflated sense of authority. The unspoken observation and threat are plain as day: You weren’t where you were supposed to be. Do I need to tell the higher ups about this?

“Sister,” Shaw greets curtly. “I may not have been at the chapel, but I had my radio tuned to the same frequency as everyone else. Someone had to make sure the trucks were loaded with supplies to aid in the siege against the sinners held up at the jail.” 

“And was this a direct order from the Herald?” 

“The Deputy butchered my whole squad tonight, Emily,” Shaw says tersely. “Forgive me if I wasn’t in the mood to sing and rejoice in preemptively celebrating the Project's victory.” Sybille’s eyes go wide. Could it be? The same man who’s helped drag her to freedom is the same one who found her at the ranger’s station and brought her here in the first place? “Unless Brother Jacob specifically asked after my absence, then I have nothing more to discuss with you.”

“And if he did?” The woman’s voice pitches higher; her arrogant posturing rapidly crumbles at the slightest challenge.

“Then I will explain myself to him.” 

[A beat]

“You should’ve died with your squad,” Emily sneers. “Only a weakling and a coward would abandon their brothers in arms like that. I don’t even know why the Herald keeps you around. You should have been culled with the rest of ‘em.” 

bonus snippet 1: from a scene that possessed me the other day wherein jacob and syb are stuck in a bunker and they're talking about their daddy issues (and what they want to leave behind/how they want to be remembered). which is to say. this is the closest to therapy they'll ever get <3

"Told myself I'd never end up like my old man. Sooner put a bullet in my head than wind up old and miserable like he was. But shit happens and then suddenly…" [Jacob] trails off, his thumb idly playing with the tab.

"Suddenly you seein' 'im every time you look in the mirror," Sybille supplies. She proceeds to down the rest of her beer. She crushes the can under her palm and lets out a loud belch.

"Yeah," Jacob says lamely, and he does the exact same thing.

She reaches back into the 24-pack of lukewarm bunker beer. "Wanna'nother one?"

"Please."

bonus snippet 2: from the jakesyb bliss-induced-sex fic :)c

“What the fuck is this?”

“Oh! I’m so glad you asked!” [Faith] grins. “I’m doing some…hm, what’s the term for it? R&D?”

“R&D?” Jacob parrots. 

“Yup!” She lifts the leash and waves it in her hand, the motion making the tags on Sybille’s collar jingle. “Doing some testing on a new strain of Bliss. One to store for when we emerge in New Eden. That'll…” she bites her lip, contemplating her words, “...help us repopulate.” 

He comes to an abrupt halt, just out of reach. Faith’s words knock the bluster from him. “What?” 

“I don’t know how to put it more simply, Jacob. It’s a strain of Bliss meant to help encourage procreation.” 

“You’re making an aphrodisiac?” he states dumbly. 

She clicks her tongue and scoffs. “A vulgar way to put it, but yes.”

“And you’ve used the Deputy as a guinea pig.”

“Mm-hm,” she nods, “as one, yes.” 

“And this is a gift to me, how?” 

Faith cocks her head to the side. “Do you not like it?” She frowns. “I dressed her up all nice for you and everything.” 

taglist (opt in/opt out)

@buggknife, @cloudofbutterflies92, @josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarishikages,

@florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl,

@ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners,

@trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies,

@josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @finding-comfort-in-rain, @voidika,

@strangefable and anyone else who wants to share a wip today <3

[blossom-hwa]

miami nights | l.mh

pairing: Minho x gender neutral!reader genre: fluff, slice of life warnings: cursing, alcohol + underage drinking (be responsible kids) word count: 4.7k notes: — changes made to skz ages: 00 line + jeongin are all graduating high school, mc/changbin/minho/chan have all just graduated college — for the record I don't hate miami as much as this fic might suggest, I'm just really fucking bored here Miami is boring. Minho is less boring. Put two and two together and this city still sucks, but maybe having Minho is enough.

Stray Kids Masterlist

"I'm bored."

Minho doesn't even bother looking at his camera. "You've said that maybe ten thousand times in the past half hour."

"Yeah, because I meant it." You roll over your bed again. "I'm so fucking bored."

His sigh crackles through the FaceTime call. "Well, it's not like it's New York City, where we could do fucking everything."

"But it's Miami. Sunny Miami." Minho barks out a sharp laugh and you do an impeccable job of ignoring him. "Beach, sun, swamp. People come down here for vacation all the fucking time, there must be something to do."

He holds one hand up to the camera. "Everglades." One finger down. "Wynwood." Another finger. "Some nature estate." A third finger. "Beach." A fourth. And then, a long pause.

"Some other nature estate?" you offer.

Minho flaps his hand at the screen. It's his laptop screen, which you know because he's been glued to his phone for half of the FaceTime. "They're all the same and you know it."

Unfortunately, you do know it. There are only so many times you can walk Vizcaya or sit by the Deering Estate before they all end up coalescing into one big mush of ocean and grass in your brain. Beautiful the first few times. Pretty the next. Then just part of the landscape. Some might say you sound ungrateful, but you've lived here for eighteen damn years. You think you have a right to complain. Besides, how many times can you go to the beach before sand sticks itself so far up your ass that you decide you're never wandering into the ocean's depths again?

It's your turn to sigh this time. "So what are we doing tomorrow? Food? Boba?"

Minho's eating something now, so his voice comes out muffled. "What else is there to do?"

It takes too much effort to roll your eyes so you just stare at the ceiling. "Pick me up at twelve."

. . .

[12:36am] to: minnow just had the most terrifying moment of my life went to get water after everyone had gone to be didn't put on my house slippers bc it was supposed to be quick turned on lights ROACH NOT THREE FUCKING FEET AWAY FROM MY BARE FUCKING FOOT it's dead now but I have to throw it away 🤮 save me

[12:38am] to: minnow HOKY FUCKJNG SHIT IT WAS STILL ALIVEN I TRIEDT O SWEEP IT PU AND IT STARTEDD RUMNING AWAT NOW IT IS FUCKING DEAD oh god there is a separate leg that needs to be swept up I just lost ten years of my life

[12:40am] from: minnow cool

[12:40am] to: minnow I GO THROUGH A LIFE THREATENING EXPERIENCE AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY IS COOL

. . .

Seungmin is also there when you and Minho enter the Chipotle, so you end up sitting with him. He looks appropriately done with life, as befits a high school senior. "Oooo, skipping class," Minho singsongs before flicking him in the back of the head.

"Shut up," he mutters, slapping Minho's hand away. Or he would have if Minho wasn't so fast. "It's all useless now, I've already gotten into college."

You just laugh, dumping your Chipotle bowl in front of him. "Fail your AP exams and I disown you as my son," you warn cheerily. You nearly hit your head on one of the cheap fluorescent hanging lights as you sit down on the tall stool. There are fingerprints smeared all over the metal countertop and the cracked covering of the stool scratches your thighs. Maybe it was a mistake to wear shorts today. "What are you going to say if this goes on your permanent record?"

Seungmin gives you the stink eye. "Like they'll stop the valedictorian from graduating," he retorts. "And when the fuck did you two get back? I didn't realize you'd graduated already."

"Aww, missed us?" Minho beams, his eyes and mouth all turning into little slits that make him look far more threatening than he is. Actually, he looks like that meme of the cat staring straight at the camera that looks like it's smiling but its mouth is basically just a line with the slightest curvature at both ends. Felix would know what you're talking about. "We got back two weeks ago."

"And you didn't bother to tell us?" Seungmin sniffs.

"We did," Minho says. "You just don't check the group chat."

"You haven't even tried to congratulate us." You wipe away an imaginary tear.

He rolls his eyes, but you detect a little smile on his face that isn't just your own delusion. "Congrats, or whatever."

"I knew you cared!" you cheer, reaching over the table to give him a hug, despite half of the restaurant glaring at you while Seungmin attempts to fight you off. Minho just watches the whole scene unfold, his usual Cheshire Cat half smile stuck on his face.

Seungmin leaves soon after. You make a dramatic plea for him to stay, complete with a seated reenactment of Caesar's stabbing with Minho as Brutus and by proxy Seungmin, because Seungmin leaving is akin to Brutus stabbing Caesar who is you, or whatever. "No, my favorite child, don't go," you wail even as the workers start looking your way. "I'll buy you boba."

Minho snorts. "What are you, his parent?"

"What are you, a fucking loser?"

The offer of boba doesn't work because Seungmin has physics during his last period so he needs to be back in time to catch that class or his teacher will actually probably write him up (she's an evil old woman), and for all his skipping class Seungmin is still a mostly-goody-two-shoes who doesn't actually want anything horrific on his permanent record. So you and Minho finish your bowls alone with a side of healthy bickering, and then you walk back out into the disgusting heat to Minho's shitty little Toyota Corolla.

You almost don't catch the keys before they hit you in the face. "You drive," Minho says, opening the passenger side door.

"I'm not fucking driving." You drop the keys on his lap. "I only have a permit and I'm not on your stupid car's insurance."

"And I am an adult over twenty one with a license, and I trust that if you fuck up my car, I can throw you under the bus and say I was being kidnapped." He throws them back at your face and you screech. "You need to practice, so drive."

Minho wins because he's already in the passenger seat and the heat is sapping away your will to live, which includes your will to wrestle Minho out of that seat so you can take his place. So you end up in the driver's seat, sweating even more because the air conditioning in this car has been busted since last summer, and then you fudge your way out of the parking lot and down the road.

"If you say a word I will fucking kill you," you say.

Minho rolls his eyes and continues looking at his phone.

You manage to reach the boba shop in one piece. Minho orders his regular and you choose one of the new fruit teas on the menu. You find an empty round table with only minimal spillage in a corner of the shop and sit there in silence, sipping your drinks. You pull out your phone. Minho is still on his.

Ten minutes later, you crack. "This place fucking sucks."

"You just figured that out?" Minho mutters. He's chewing his straw as he obnoxiously slurps a boba pearl into his mouth. He's doing that on purpose just to annoy you but you rise to the bait anyway.

"Don't do that, it's disgusting." You put your phone down. "There's just nothing to fucking do. Almost makes me want to go back to college."

"You sure as hell weren't saying that right before graduation."

You debate the merits of slurping up a boba pearl just to take it out of your mouth and throw it at him. "Because I wasn't in buttfuck shit suburban Miami then."

Minho rolls his eyes. You do not throw the boba pearl, but only because you don't want sticky hands. Instead you lapse back into silence, the only sounds being Minho's occasional slurp and your ensuing complaint.

At two, your boba cup is empty and so is your will to live. You've seen the same Instagram reels at least twice, scrolled through Tumblr to oblivion, even poked at Sidechat before immediately closing the app after reading the first post you saw. You can't figure out the last three words on the New York Times Spelling Bee and you've already reached Genius status for the day so you have very little motivation to continue. "Let's go to Target," you say.

"Sure."

He makes you drive again and you yell at him the entire way because you're shit at directions so you have no idea how to get to Target despite having lived here for over a decade, and he won't stop looking at his phone the entire car ride there even while giving directions. You take a wrong left turn at some point and end up on the highway for five minutes. You blame him, obviously. Minho threatens to buy Starbucks just to pour on your head.

You don't buy Starbucks at Target because you just had boba. Minho picks up some vitamins, which he needs, and you find a weighted unicorn plushie, which you also need. He claims he doesn't need the matching dinosaur plushie but you dump it in his arms anyway and he carries it for an entire two hours until you get to checkout, which tells you everything you need to know. You snatch it out of his arms to pay for it and he threatens again to buy Starbucks to pour over your head. You tell him threats don't work the second time if he doesn't make good on them the first time. Unless you're Hyunjin, who's scared of everything.

You end up getting Starbucks anyway just before you leave because Chan and Changbin got back in town today and instead of being jet lagged like normal people they want to see everyone again, so you text the group chat and end up with nine orders including yours and Minho's. You refuse to drive this time. Minho mocks you the entire way to Changbin's house and you threaten to throw his plushie out the window.

Chan gives good hugs. So does Changbin. It doesn't stop you from making fun of them for being gym bros who don't miss a day to work out, not even during finals week. It also doesn't stop you from mocking Chan for his age.

"We graduated in the same year," he complains.

"But you got a Masters combined with your Bachelors," Minho says, grinning. "You're one degree ahead and you've been in school for five years instead of four so you're old."

Then Seungmin comes swinging through the door, four other gremlins following close behind, and you get to be called old by the five boys you practically raised ("You're not my dad!" "Vine's been dead for over ten years, shut the FUCK up.").

"What's with the plushies?" Felix eventually asks. He's already eyeing your unicorn. You hug it closer. Even though you love Felix, you will not cede that plushie to anyone. 

"Went to Target," Minho says, carrying his dinosaur by the scruff of its neck. "Got plushies. And Starbucks." He leaves out the bit where you spent most of your two hours there snickering at the stupid holiday cards in the gift section and making fun of the Colleen Hoover books randomly displayed around the store, but it's implied.

You all traipse into Changbin's living room because he's the only one with Mario Kart and enough controllers for all of you. It devolves into a big screaming mess within fifteen minutes and someone spills Chan's coffee. No one notices at first but then Minho, mom friend supreme, yells for everyone to shut the fuck up and get towels to clean up the growing mess. Only Chan and Hyunjin respond, Chan because it's his coffee and Hyunjin because Minho is going to make good on his threat to air fry him someday, but Minho bars Chan from cleaning the mess because it's not his fault and it's his coffee so you end up going out to buy him a new one while Hyunjin sops up the spill. Mario Kart continues as usual.

After placing in the bottom half for almost every game in an hour, Jisung switches the game to Smash. After beating Changbin gets boring, you boot him the console and kick Jisung and Minho's collective ass instead. Then the sky is darkening, and you all remember that Changbin's rich kid community has a waterfront view, so Chan shuts off the TV mid-game and you all bicker your way out of the house and to the beach.

The sun is setting and for all that you dislike the beach, the view is nice. Pink and orange rays stream from the horizon and cast a soft glow on the scene that makes everyone look vaguely angelic, even though you all are the furthest from a group of angels you could ever be. You perch on a chunk of limestone and watch Seungmin shove Jisung into the water.

There is a very good reason why Changbin's neighbors hate you all.

The sky gets darker. Minho picks you up with much screaming and dumps you into the water, but on your feet so only your legs get wet. On principle you still have to get revenge so you dump a handful of water over his head and then narrowly escape getting dunked in the ocean by kicking him in the knee before he manages to grab you.

You end up on the rocks again, rough limestone pressing marks into your thighs as you watch the moon slowly pick its way into the sky. Chan and Felix are looking for shells even though this beach is more pebbles than sand, while Seungmin and Jeongin are egging on Hyunjin and Jisung splashing each other in the water. Changbin has spread himself out on the sand and almost looks asleep. Minho sits next to you on the rocks and puts his head on your shoulder. You complain for a bit about his sweaty hair but it's fine.

You're so focused on the sunset that you don't notice that Jisung and Hyunjin are no longer playing fuck-around-and-find-out in the water. You don't even notice that they've come around you from behind. All you do know is that you suddenly hear the click of an iPhone camera and then Jisung whooping behind you.

"The fuck—"

He's holding his phone and it's clear he took a photo of you and by proxy, a photo of Minho. You screech again, on principle, but it's too late. A ping from your phone tells you Jisung has sent the photo to the group chat.

"I'm going to kill you," you promise.

"It's a good photo!" Jisung insists, all the while backing away.

You look at Minho for backup. Instead, you watch him open the message and, after scrutinizing the photo with a nonplussed expression, save it. "What?" he says when he notices your scandalized glare. "It is a good photo."

You look at the picture. With the darkening sky, you and Minho look like shadows on the rock, haloed softly by the last rays of the sun sinking under the horizon. The ocean shimmers gently, waves lapping quietly against the shore. His head is on your shoulder and even though only your backs are in the shot, an air of contentment exudes from the scene. You don't even look sweaty.

Something unknown builds in your stomach, vaguely nostalgic, some kind of sad, but also soft and a little bit sweet. More good than bad but you feel a bit empty, for some reason. "I guess," is all you can answer, and Minho doesn't say anything more. But when you return to Changbin's house, still damp and noisy, you slip into the bathroom and save it to your phone, too.

It is a good photo, after all.

. . .

[12:50am] from: minnow why the fuck are you still online

[12:55am] to: minnow I could ask you the same dipshit

[12:57am] from: minnow I asked first dipshit

[1:01am] to: minnow can't sleep dipshit do something abt it

[1:02am] from: minnow what am I a genie?

[1:02am] to: minnow would it kill you to be nice once in your life

[1:03am] from: minnow yes

[1:05am] to: minnow touché asshole

[1:10am] to: minnow if you go to sleep now tomorrow will come faster

[1:11am] to: minnow you mean another whole day of nothing?

[1:12am] from: minnow see you get it

. . .

[2:15am] to: minnow do you ever wonder what it would be like if we never met (message unsent)

. . .

The kids graduate on a Wednesday morning, so Minho picks you up early. You're sitting at your old piano when he lets himself in, staring at some sheet music you used to be able to play five years ago. You can still play it, as you are currently finding out. Badly. With a lot of wrong notes.

You hit a wrong chord. Minho doesn't even flinch. "You're not dressed," he says.

You wave him off vaguely. "Later," you say, and play the right chord this time.

He doesn't say anything, just lies down on the couch and stares at the ceiling while you plink plunk your way through the rest of the piece. He claps. You get changed. He throws you the car keys. You wrestle him out the passenger seat as peacocks watch menacingly from the front lawn, then threaten to poke his eye out if he tries that again.

Chan and Changbin are already there, responsible adults that they are. You and Minho find them in the stands, the kids' parents sitting a couple of rows down. Chan warns you not to make a scene in front of the adults but he's the loudest when each of the boys walks across the stage, so you heckle him semi-quietly from all sides until the ceremony is over.

The four of you head to Minho's while the five new grads get lunch with their parents. Chan insists it isn't a good idea to day drink so you save the bottles of vodka for when the kids arrive, which they do towards the evening. You play Smash until they show up and you and Minho battle for first place fifteen times in a row.

Minho's parents are out of town but the cats are here, winding around all nine pairs of legs when the kids enter the house, newly graduated, caps and gowns abandoned. Food is ordered, shots are poured, and libations are made for each of the newly minted adults in the room with Chan overseeing everything because he doesn't drink. Half of you are underage but that half are all over eighteen, and you say if they're old enough to get drafted they're old enough to drink. Anyway, the youngest is Jeongin and he once sampled fifty different energy drinks in one sitting because Chan was in LA and he had no supervision. He's still alive. A shot or two won't kill him.

There's Smash. There's Mario Party. There's another round of shots and congratulations to the soon-to-be-college-freshmen, then Seungmin finds a bottle of wine and they pour it out for the college grads too. Your head starts feeling fuzzy halfway through the third round of Mario Kart so you lie down on the ground, and Soonie curls up on your chest so you are legally not allowed to move anymore.

The noise settles into a buzz in the back of your head. You yell when Jisung finally places third in Mario Kart and Minho drops a cat onto your head. Eventually, though, the yelling begins to peter out, and when Jeongin starts snoring around two in the morning, Chan calls it quits and begins arranging people around the couches to sleep.

You're not sleepy, though, so long after everyone else is passed out in various positions around the living room, you head into the kitchen for water. You're still at least tipsy so your reflexes don't do so well when footsteps sound behind you and you try to turn around to see who it is.

Minho, drunk as he is, catches you by the shoulder. "Just me," he mumbles. He only looks a little more alert than you.

You nod and finish your water but you don't feel like going back to the living room, where everyone is snoring and it smells like booze. Instead you go to the dining room and lie under the dining table. Minho joins you shortly after.

"What are we doing here?" he asks.

"Being drunk."

He seems to accept that as an answer. You stare at the bottom of his dining table. You've been to Minho's house so many times over the past few years, but somehow you've never seen the table from this angle. It captures your attention for a few minutes. Or maybe an hour. Time isn't real.

"I'm bored," Minho announces.

You look at him. "That's my line."

"And I stole it."

You huff. "Then what the fuck do you want to do?"

No Target. No boba. No beach, and none of that matters since there's no car because you're both shitfaced. It's some stupid hour of the morning, anyway.

Minho raises his hands. Splays out all his fingers against the underside of the table. "Never have I ever."

You stare. "That's so fucking stupid."

"You're so fucking stupid."

"Your mom's so fucking stupid."

"...You take that back."

"Fine." You relent only because Minho's mom is a lovely woman and even drunk, you already feel bad.

Minho grabs your arm and shoves your hand up next to his. "Never have I ever punched someone in the face."

It's not a hard game to play, even drunk. The rules aren't difficult and you and Minho know enough about each other that each time one of you says something, another finger goes down. Both of you have one finger left and your brains are starting to feel fuzzy not just with alcohol but with drowsiness too, so it takes a bit longer for Minho to think of something. Not that it stops you from being a little shit. "Hurry up."

"I can't fucking think," he complains.

"Then say something both of us have done," you snap, waving your last finger around. "Just hurry up."

"Fine." The air seems to change but you're too drunk to really pay attention to it. "Never have I ever been kissed." He folds his last finger.

You don't.

There's a beat of silence. Even without looking you can feel Minho's eyes roving from your still lifted finger down your arm and over to your face, where you are still resolutely staring at the dining table bottom and not back at him. "You've never been kissed," he says, almost incredulous.

You snort. You won the game, but the single finger you're still holding up looks really, really sad. "No need to rub it in."

He grabs your shoulder and that forces you to look at him. You blink. He doesn't say anything and for several seconds or seventy-two hours you don't either. "What the fuck do you want?" you eventually mumble.

"Just shut up," he says, and kisses you.

Minho seems cold but he's actually very warm, a fact that you are reminded of when he presses his lips to yours. Your hand falls limply, the lone finger forgotten as he pulls you to him. His eyes are closed and after a moment yours shut too. You don't know if you can look at him now. It's already too much just to feel.

You pull away for air. Minho holds up your hand and folds all fingers down. "Now you've been kissed," he says. You can't read his expression in the darkness.

"Why?"

Cat eyes seem to glow in the dark. "Because I've liked you since we met, and I think you like me too."

You like me too.

You roll the sentence around your mind, feeling the words bounce off your skull. Minho is mean. Kind. Annoying. Pretty. He knows your boba order and doesn't talk when you don't need to listen. His cats like you and you like them. He complains that you're boring but he hangs out with you all the time and he has never made you feel less than what you are, even when you play the piano shittily in front of him. You think of the photo Jisung took of you two last week and how you've made it your phone's home screen. You think of perfunctory complaints, a sunset, and his head on your shoulder with a weird feeling in your stomach.

You hold his hand. "I guess you're right."

He smiles. You can see it in the dark. And it's not the patented Cheshire Cat grin of evil and mischief; not really, at least. It's softer and sweeter and you recognize it as one of the sides of Minho that he rarely shares. Like when a cat allows you to rub its belly and purrs instead of scratching.

You end up in his room, still on the floor because the bed is too annoying to get to. He's lying on his back, dinosaur plushie under his head, and you're draped over his stomach. You can feel him breathing slowly, steadily, softly.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we never met?"

"...Could you just let me fucking sleep?"

"Be so for fucking real."

You can hear him rolling his eyes, but you can also hear him collecting his thoughts. "Well," he says, and you think he might be smiling, "Miami would be a lot more boring without you."

. . .

[9:14am] from: minnow before you try to overthink things yes I meant what I said last night tell chan if he wakes me up again I'll egg his car when he least expects it

. . .

Miami is stupid. There are peacocks and alligators and iguanas that fall out of trees in the winter. It's sunny all the fucking time and if it isn't it's pouring rain and in both cases there are mosquitoes out for your blood. Every time you walk outside it feels like you're melting into soup and the invasive ducks will give chase the moment you show weakness or fear. Cockroaches roam your home. So do weird millipedes and tiny lizards and idiot moths. Everything is hot and humid and stupid, and it's boring.

"I'm bored."

Minho rolls his eyes. "You are incredibly fucking annoying."

You pinch him. "Yeah, because I'm fucking bored."

"We could kiss."

Contemplative silence on your end.

"...Solid plan."

You hate this fucking place. It's boring and there's nothing to do but go to the beach or become one with the pavement. But there's Minho, and you'll never admit it if anyone asks, but you think that might be enough.

. . .

[6:45pm] to: minnow open ur fucking door

[6:45pm] from: minnow what happened to please and thank you

[6:46pm] to: minnow I will throw your boba in the sewer so fucking fast

[6:46pm] from: minnow you wouldn't dare

[6:47pm] to: minnow [image attached] don't underestimate me

[6:47pm] from: minnow I'm opening the door I'm opening the fucking door don't fucking do it

[6:48pm] to: minnow I knew you loved me

[6:49pm] from: minnow god I fucking hate you

[6:50pm] to: minnow aw I love you too <3

[6:51pm] from: minnow jesus fucking christ

[6:41pm] to: minnow say it back babe ik you want to

[6:42pm] from: minnow for fuck's sake I love you too

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[honeysuckleharringtons]

"In Your Dreams" ~ J. Byers

Summary: When Reader is having a hard time with her Halloween makeup, she uses Jonathan as her canvas to practice.

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 634

Content Warning: mild sexual humor, mild horror movie talk (Freddy Krueger is mentioned a couple times), lmk if i misses anything!

Extra Notes: this reads a lil bit like they're in high school but i promise that wasn't my intention lol! no established ages so Reader and Jonathan can be 18+ if you so wish, or not if you'd rather they be younger than 18 lol

Originally Written: 10/26/2023 through 10/27/2023

honeysuckleharringtons main masterlist can be found here!

halloweek masterlist can be found here!

"Hold still," you complained, eyeliner pencil in hand.

Jonathan grumbled, though a smile never ceased from his lips. "I am holding still!" he rebutted. "I'm just scared you're gonna take out my eye with that thing."

This started about twenty minutes prior, when you were telling him how nervous you were about your Halloween costume. The two of you had settled that you would go as Freddy Krueger and he'd go as Glen, but the prospect of all that makeup seemed a bit daunting to you after you'd agreed.

Thus, you found yourselves lying on the floor of your bedroom, eyeshadow palettes and lipstick tubes spread about as you practiced the makeup on Jonathan. He'd been ever the sweetheart about the ordeal, simply letting you paint his face however you'd like.

"You'd never make it as a woman," you argued, going back in with the eyeliner.

Jonathan ran a hand through his already messy hair. "I don't know why you're so stressed about this. I mean, isn't Halloween supposed to be fun? Isn't this stress taking the fun out of it for you?"

You countered his statement with a look of exasperation. "Of course you get to say that. All you do is have to throw on some sweatpants and an old tee shirt and call it a night. I have the hard job."

He sensed your frustration, a loving hand meeting your knee as he flashed you a sideways smile. "Sweetheart, it's just a Halloween costume. You don't have to freak out about the whole thing. I just want you to have fun."

Your heart swelled with adoration for the boy in front of you, a million butterflies fluttering around in your belly at his kind words. "I know, and I appreciate that. But it's our first Halloween as a couple, Jon. And I really want to see the look on Carol's face when we beat her and Tommy at the couples costume contest."

A light snicker tumbled out of him as he pulled you closer, his hands settling on either side of your face. "And you will. Because you have one thing that Carol doesn't."

"A brain?" you laughed. Your eyes met his, a thousand hidden emotions swirling around in those chocolate brown eyes you loved so much.

"Okay, two things," Jonathan chuckled. "A brain, and the fact that you're already gonna be the prettiest girl at the party, with or without makeup."

The butterflies somehow increased tenfold as your lips met his, chapped skin against chapped skin that was somehow your favorite feeling in the world. The bergamot scent of his cologne filled your senses as he pulled you close, tugging your body down with his as he fell back on the carpet. The action elicited a giggle from you, tumbling out of your mouth and into his.

Finally, you pulled away, looking down at him with slight confusion. "What are you up to, Byers?"

"Nothing. Can't a guy compliment his girl?" he asked, faking innocence.

Your eyes narrowed in on him. "You keep acting like this, and you'll be doing a lot more than complimenting me."

"Maybe," Jonathan pulled you down for a short peck, "that's the point."

Your bubble of bliss was popped by a knock on your door, followed by your mother insisting that it was time for bed. You scrambled up from the floor, pulling Jonathan with you and rushing him toward the window where he'd climbed in earlier.

"Good night, Freddy," he joked, leaning in for one last kiss.

"Oh, it will be. I'll see you later… in your dreams," you joked, wiggling your fingers at him to emphasize the spookiness of your words.

The boy simply snickered as he began to make his way out of your bedroom window. "I look forward to it, then."

taking this time to make a formal apology for posting so late in the day lol! it was never my intention to not post today (since it's now after midnight here lol) but the day got away from me and i never found time to edit and post until now lol! hope you guys are well and enjoying all the fics so far! 🫶🏻

-> taglist: @ducky-died-inside @aftermidnightwriting @esoltis280

[wanderingmind867]

I feel like I'm even more sad and angry and existential lately. And I'm blaming my birthday for that. I turn 20 in February. 20! That doesn't feel right! I don't know if it will for a while! It feels like the past two or three years have all been a blur! My mom died! I learned I had to graduate high school! I had to do this and this and this, and it all felt like a series of snowballs hitting me, and merging to become one giant avalanche of stress.

I then had to deal with yet more stress. This year is almost definitely my last year for High School and the online Social Skills Class, which is almost agonizing. I still haven't managed to make any real friends from the class (besides maybe the teachers), because I never kept in touch with anyone. Now I'm nearly 20 with no friends. All my brain wants to do is make me worry about this still being a problem for years, which is great. I also worry college will be so different that I won't be able to handle it. And if I can't handle it, that means no more school for me ever again. And my brain can't cope with that either.

On top of all this, my dad keeps texting someone. And then he randomly asks me if i'm okay with him dating again. And like, what am I supposed to say!? No? Should I be the jerk who deprives their father of happiness? Or should I make myself deal with all this, when even thinking about it sends my mind into a tailspin of thoughts? I don't know. But my dad keeps randomly bringing it up, and then I accidentally saw some sexual stuff on his phone's search history. And that made me think about stuff I didn't want to think about. So that was great too.

And just to be clear, I'm not depressed 24/7. It's been a bit more frequent lately, and my stress does seem stronger than usual some days. But I still have happy moments, and calm moments. They're just…they usually end up feeling less memorable then my stressful moments and my sad moments. Maybe that's a bad thing, but it's just a simple fact. sigh…

[hannahhook7744]

Got any hc for Mr. Deley in your BDA descendants rewrite ?

Okay so I decided in this au, that instead of him being the usual dirtbag I write him/perceive him as I would write him as a tired, grumpy teacher who is frustrated by the lack of proper safety equipment in the school labs.

As a man who has had to explain to FG and his several other non-human coworkers why exactly this and that safety equipment is needed when teenagers-with-still-developing-brains are the ones handling the chemicals they're experimenting with, and why they need to spend more money on things like that.

A man who has had to remind his coworkers several times 'no, human children aren't fire resistant' and 'no, chemicals spilling on a human child does not have the same outcome as if it spilt on a demi-god, fae child, etc.'

A man who is used to explaining everything about a zillion times to his coworkers, superiors, and angry parents who's kids get away with everything short of murder and students who couldn't care less about what he's teaching if they don't get to do an experiment that day.

That is to say, I want to write him as a man who is tired of everyone around him and endless grumpy because he does not get paid enough for any of this but who isn't completely prejudice. A man who can admit he had a wrong first impression and who can try and change for the better (read a fic once that inspired this inkling of my brain). A man who has had to hear countless jokes about his name, and just wants to get a student who is actually eager to learn instead of students who give him heart attacks because they don't listen to instructions and, as one certain demigod student in his first year of teaching did, drink the chemicals on a dare in the not even two minute span he had his back turned to write the instructions down.

Which leads into my Badun Detective Agency Descendants rewrite where instead of the core four, it's The Badun cousins, Hermie Bing, Eddie Balthazar, Yzla, Reza, and Hadie who come to Auradon first.

Mr. Deley's expectations are low.

Is it right? No but it's the truth.

He hasn't had high expectations for many of his students since his third year of teaching and he certainly doesn't have any for students coming from a place where barely any teachers were sent.

He expects hell to be raised by the children (because even the Auradon Kids are little hell raisers who cause chaos who have thankfully gotten by miraculously unscathed).

He expects the children to months, if not years behind or completely unaware of chemistry in the worst case scenario.

He expects them to be disruptive and disrespectful, and for them to talk nonstop and cause all kinds of chaos that he'll have to clean up and smooth over with their foster parents because the heroes usually get mad if even a little unkind word is said about their precious little darling even if little Billy dared little Bella and not so little Hercules to drink chemicals or if little Susie set a girl's hair on fire with a lighter she wasn't even supposed to have in the first place.

All of that is to say, he had little to no expectations.

But these kids?

These kids blew all of that out of the water.

Jace Badun is quiet but follows instructions and answers questions when callee on, usually getting the answers correct or close to correct.

Hadie is eager to learn.

Harry Badun can keep up nearly seamlessly despite saying it isn't his best class.

Yzla and Reza are star pupils, always willing to learn something new and answer questions without even being called on, and they are always willing to tutor their peers if asked.

The only one of them he really has any issues with is Eddie Balthazar, because the kid is always falling asleep in class but that's not anything new and his foster parents say they're handling it, and that they're sorry they didn't inform him ahead of time about the issue.

They're honestly well-behaved more than the other students he has to deal with and make him rethink everything he had thought before hand (like Evie hopefully did after d1 though judging by the books about Aurdaon Prep like the New Vks Guide, probably not).

I thought it'd be a nice change of space and well, I do like trying to make characters more complex.

[kiiwiigii]

Night-Time Reading

Alec x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are having a rough day managing your POTS/CFS. All you want to do is relax and Alec is there to help.

Warnings:

Fluff! Nothing but tooth rotting fluff.

Word Count: 400+

Requested?: Yes!

So I'm going through a really rough time, I'm disabled (pots and CFS) and my cfs is acting up badly cause school started and I've been so busy I haven't had a break period, constantly walking and running and being busy. now I have a three day weekend so my body is letting myself feel the consequences of pushing myself too far, so I was wondering if I could suggest some comfort? Alec with a mate that either has cfs or just has some symptoms and just him keeping them as comfortable as possible while they're in pain Common symptoms (including the ones I'm going through) - joint pain (I can barely go up stairs and walk -extreme temp fluctuations (really hot to really cold quickly) -brain fog (brain is foggy. I'm too weak to open a bottle of coke so I left it open and while talking I tipped it over and forgot it was open) -migraines/headaches -sore throat -trembling -really tired but can't fall asleep and/or sleeps for a really long time Thank you for listening 🫶🏼 -🦊

A/N: Hey nonny! I am so, so sorry it has taken me this long to write this. Honestly, I was (and still am I suppose) intimidated to write this, simply because these illnesses are not something I am not even remotely familiar with. But I also want to thank you because it's a good writing exercise for me. I'm also sorry that you're having such a rough time. I can't even imagine. So here's a fic, just for you, darling. I hope you're feeling better.

Another A/N: So the wonderful and amazing @alecvolturi did an amazing edit of Alec reading the first bit of The Hobbit. Please give it a listen as you read. It's PERFECT.

Miserable.

I was fucking miserable.

It began just by sitting up. I could feel the migraine building, and I was already in the throws of a hot flash. It didn't help that the pain in my joints was flaring up again.

It was 3 a.m. and I was already this close to crying. I couldn't remember the last time that I had a proper nights sleep. I just wanted one day, one day where I didn't have to be in pain or worry that any movement I made would set off a whole other series of symptoms, all of which almost all of them were painful.

"Darling?" Alec was next to me, his cold hands running over my heated skin, trailing goosebumps behind in his wake.

His hands were a sweet, cool balm on my flushed skin. It gave me a little relief. I leaned into him, enjoying the cold. His lips pressed to my forehead.

"Scale of 1 to 10?"

"7 to 8." I mumbled.

One would think with how long that I've lived with this disease that I would have a high pain tolerance. That couldn't be further from the truth. I could already feel a few tears slipping from beneath my lashes. I just wanted something to make the pain go away.

I whined as Alec disappeared, only to reappear with my meds and a bottle of water a moment later.

"Here, drink." He handed me the pills and water, and I took them gratefully. He pulled the comforter from the floor where I had kicked it off, bundling it back up on the bed for us to lay down on. He then grabbed my phone, pulling up my favorite playlist, the one he made for me to help me calm down when I felt like shit. The music started flowing through the speaker near my bed at a low volume.

"What book, darling?" His eyes were already scanning my bookshelves.

"Uhm…" I blinked back at him slowly, trying to process what he said.

"How about The Hobbit?"

"Perfect." I rasped with a small smile.

He was next to me again in a flash, his back against the headboard as he pulled me gently to him, a pillow already ready in his lap.

"In the hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit." His voice lilted over me, and I felt myself begin to relax as his hands gently ran through my hair and along my neck.

The fine mist that signaled the use of his gift began to unfurl from his fingers and I felt myself begin to numb. The first time he had done this it had been disconcerting, but now I welcomed it with relish. A small reprieve from the pain. I smiled to myself, letting my eyes slip closed as I listened.

Then finally, sleep came for me.

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