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

[senipsenipsenip]

Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.

"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"

He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"

Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.

"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"

"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.

"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."

Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."

"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.

"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"

Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.

"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.

"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.

Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"

Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.

"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."

"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.

"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"

Stan froze. "What?"

"My first kiss, do you remember it?"

"I was there?"

"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."

Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"

"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."

Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"

Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"

"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."

"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."

Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"

Ford turned redder. "You do."

"I do? Geez, I was a perv."

"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."

Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."

Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"

Dipper balked. "What? No I - "

"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"

"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."

"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"

"What? No!"

"Some girls like nerds."

"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."

"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"

"MABEL -"

The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Holy - " he choked out softly.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"

Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.

"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.

"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.

Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.

Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"

"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"

"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"

"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"

"You brought it up!"

"And now I'm putting a stop to it."

Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"

"Stanley, please don't joke about that."

"I'm fading away - "

"Stanley."

Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."

"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"

"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."

Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.

"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."

After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.

"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."

Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."

"I regret this already."

"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."

Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"

Dipper shrugged.

"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."

[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.

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

Is there a word for the opposite of internalised homophobia? When someone's normalised queerness so much in their head that they don't realise they're queer themself?

Like bi people not realising they're bi because when faced with homophobia their reaction is something along the lines of "who cares what gender someone else dates, why does that even matter to people? How is that a defining part of a relationship anyway? What are you supposed to do, just not like someone because of their gender?" only to eventually realise there's a reason they can't understand how gender could ever be a defining character trait for anyone in a relationship and it's because for them it isn't. But that is apparently not, in fact, the case for a lot of people

[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.

[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???

[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 :)

[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…

[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

[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.

{Masterlist} // {Request Guidelines}

Taglist: @alecvolturi @lack-lust-3r @rosedpetal

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[venerawrites]

your most recent post just tickled my brain worms SO good holy hell I'll be thinking about it for weeks now. First of all, you did so good and thank you for the 14k fic omg!? As always your writing was freaking out of this world and I have much to say so walk with me

I particularly fell to my knees when he said "I do love you. But I only know one way to." there's such a RAW feeling to those words and I absolutely love it

Another point is that someone like the reader could never be in a healthy relationship like she wanted to since, even if she didn't wish to, she'd keep taking and taking from her partner until they're eventually left with nothing else to give

However, Sasuke is someone who has everything and nothing at the same time. He has the power and the influence but as a human? he's still raw. Vulnerable even. But not in a way that can be easily shaped nor is he willing to let others shape him into something.

What he does know how to do though is give his everything when he's set on something we seen it in how he literally gave his entire life to avenge his family

He's had love taken from him again and again, he's had love hurt and ripped him to shreds. His only "affection" in this case obsessing over things he does have control over.

Then comes in the reader; Someone who does exactly that. Someone who will tear him apart, who will lay him bare and point out his flaws without hesitation, but will also, without him even realizing, give him a solid 'shape'.

He can give her everything and more, but for someone like her it'll never be quite enough. Especially not when he learnt how to precisely measure how much to give without letting her "win" their twisted game. He will keep giving and giving and giving even when she doesn't want it anymore and what can a greedy and broken person who craves for love do if not hungrily take what is being so kindly given to her? No one else could ever keep her so frustratingly satisfied like he does.

And on god don't EVEN get me started on the last part. "I am so sick of you" he says and yet he needs her more than he needs the very air he breathes. She is a horrible woman and he is a man full of sins, way too deep into the abyss to even dream about redemption or forgiveness. So what else is left for them to do besides drowning together? Drowning themselves into each other until they eventually reach their limit together. But what matters is exactly that: That they're together.

I have so many thoughts but it's so late I can only put those into words HAHA

thank you again, have a good night XX

- toxic brainrot anon

"Toxic brainrot" anon you are the star of this blog and I really mean it! <3 This fic was originally supposed to be just a nsfw short story about ex!husband Sasuke, but after you send me that message about the toxic type of dynamic between lovers, this beautiful idea was born.

All of your analysis is spot on!

Honestly, I love Sasuke so much, but as you said he is a vulnerable and "raw" individual, one that has been through so much, the idea of redemption looks like a distant dream, rather than an achievable goal.

I think we often see him in fics paired with a s/o that is a giver - giving him patience, time, understanding (actually, most of my fics about him are like this!), but I thought - what if flipped things around? What if his partner was the one that kept taking and taking, feeding off his weaknesses rather than help him overcome them?

The whole time I was writing this I was thinking about this one quote from "The perks of being a wallflower" (Gosh, I loved that book when I was in high school!): "We accept the love we think we deserve" and honestly I think this is the most appropriate way to describe what Sasuke and his s/o are feeling for each other.

Anyway, enough of my rambling! I want to thank you, anon, not only for your kind words and support, but also all your ideas! <3

V xx