#today is one of those days u guys . my biology textbook has been staring at me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sp00kyjellybeans · 3 years

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Hi there! Could I request an x reader with Stu and a nerdy girlfriend? Like, she has big, round glasses and likes to read

tee hee yes ofc this is adorbs - fyi this is just gonna be a cute little one-shot since I wasn’t sure if u wanted hc or nah. I really hope you like it aaaa I kinda went for the 10 things I hate about you trope (except stu isn’t actually all deep and whatever.... he likes being around his smart nerdy gf who reads<3 he’s a himbo who can’t read. it events out)

Warnings: None Word count: 1,437 Genre: Fluff, Oneshot

The library was your safe space during school hours. You’d be in there every moment you got for some peace and quiet. With a building full of teenagers, there were only so many silent spaces to enjoy Austen or Hawthorne. As of today, you were rereading Pride and Prejudice in your usual corner surrounded by mounds of books. But your mind kept wandering elsewhere.

“Hey, do you know where I can find a book about uh... science?” A boy said to you a little too loud. A loud shush echoed across the library from the school librarian and he flinched in response. “Geez...”

“I don’t work here, you know,” you whispered, not looking up from your book, “Just go ask a librarian.”

“Aw come on,” the boy whined, “The lady hates me and you seem to know your way around here.”

You slammed the book down on your lap and glared up at the boy, revealing it to be Stuart Macher. The goof of your grade in Woodsboro high. “Why? Because I have glasses and I don’t talk to anybody?”

Stu looked taken aback, “Uh... because I see you in here all the time. But those are your words... not mine,” he chuckled slightly.

“Oh...” your face flushed in embarrassment, attempting to focus your eyes on the shelf of history books to your left instead of the tall blond. “What kind of science book?” You said referring to his question, to make up with the guilt you felt in your stomach. He stared at you blankly. “Biology... Anatomy... Chemistry?”

“Oh! Right!” His face lit up in realization. “Anatomy. I need to stare at a skeleton... or... something.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and shoved a hand in his pocket, his bracelets spinning around his wrist from the sudden movement. You noticed that his fingers fumbled with the necklace around his neck while he scratched his bare skin.

Throwing your book on the table next to your seat, you lead Stu out of your secret hiding place and to the educational aisle of books. It was a maze to him, each book cover looking seemingly indifferent compared to the next. The tall aisles of books were no different to him. Instead, he focused on you while you adamantly searched for whatever he was looking for. Each time you slowed down in front of a section of books, you would lean your head to the right, your glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose from the awkward angle. This happened a few times and a smile tugged at his lips every time you would push the frame upwards, only to have it happen again a moment later.

“Hello?” You waved up at Stu, who was staring off. “This what you need?” You gestured toward the large sum of anatomy textbooks. His face fell flat, annoyed that he had to actually study... not follow you around this confusing place all day.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Thanks, book girl.”

“That’s not my name,” you responded curtly, kicking your heel to head back to your secret hiding place.

“Hey, babe,” a warm, and somewhat sloppy, kiss hit your cheek. “Whatcha reading?

“Shut up!” You hissed at Stu. “All the times that you’ve been here, you still haven’t learned library etiquette. I’m surprised Mrs. Worthington hasn’t banned you for life.”

Stu shrugged and plopped his large body on the carpeted ground, laying his head against your thigh. “That’s who I am baby, you couldn’t change me if you wanted.”

You bopped him on the head with the Jane Austen novel and he let out a groan. “You can learn some manners.”

“Whatcha reading? He repeated, now setting his chin on your thigh in an attempt to look at the page you were on. This gave him no clues since the writing style was something he hadn’t seen. “Fancy...”

“I’m re-reading Pride and Prejudice.”

“That love story with the mean guy?”

“He just doesn’t know how to express it,” you scowled. “But yeah. I can’t seem to focus on it.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged this time, letting the hardcover rest on the arm of the chair. You stared forward as the illusion of how you and your boyfriend met replayed a few feet ahead of you.

“I keep thinking about how we met. I feel like it kind of reflects this book,” you said and tapped a finger on the book. Stu stared up at you with wide eyes.

Those blue eyes followed you everywhere after that. You were used to keeping your nose buried deep in the pages of the next novel your entire high school career, yet those wide ocean blue eyes disrupted this cycle. It made you hyper-aware of your surroundings. Especially aware of the fact that you and he shared a class together.

It was right before the free period. The class you shared together. His unfiltered glances would always meet yours and it resulted in a confused flush of your cheeks. You just wanted to focus. You saw a lot of his confident smirks during the lecture one day and decided to scurry off to your safe space before he tried approaching you. You knew it was coming.

But he didn’t that day.

You finally thought you were at peace.

Although, the day after that proved you otherwise. You found yourself staring down at a familiar pair of sneakers amidst flipping pages and groaned in disgust.

“Do you need anything?”

“Yeah,” Stu grinned. “Another anatomy book.”

Then he showed up the next day.

“Hey, can you-”

“Fine!” You slammed the book shut and led him to the science section.

Then the next.

“Hey, book girl can you-”

“Shouldn’t you know where the science section is now?” you snapped.

Usually, Stu would be taken aback by such an outburst. Instead, a look of joy planted on his face as soon as the sound of Mrs. Worthington’s shush echoed through the library, obviously aimed at you.

“I wasn’t going to ask about anatomy this time,” he said in a normal tone, stepping towards you. You felt flutters in your stomach but didn’t move an inch. “I wanted to...” Stu lifted his finger to point at the book you clenched in your hand. “See what you were reading. You’re always reading that author and. I want some recommendations.”

You stared up at the boy, absolutely dumbfounded. Never would you have thought that the class clown would want book recommendations from you. Even less over the thought that he wanted to read. You lifted the large novel to your line of sight, which was a Stephen King novel, Pet Sematary.

“You want to read... Stephen King?” you mumbled and Stu nodded his head. His words replayed in your head. He noticed what you were reading. You knew he had been staring at you for the past week but you didn’t assume that he wanted to know your interests. How often did he pay attention to you?

You ended up taking him to the horror section, where the boy’s love of the genre became evident. Stu went on many tangents about various movies that were books beforehand. He had no idea! This passion of his was unexpected but you were more than happy to fuel it. Stu took a deep interest in Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King the most out of your horror recommendations. He was ecstatic.

“You know,” You sighed, running your fingers through his short hair, “I didn’t think you liked books when we met.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “But you liked them a lot and I wanted to see what the hullabaloo was about. You never focused on anything except reading.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Stu sat up straight. “I mean, I noticed you a while ago but... didn’t know how to approach. Asking for an anatomy book for the first time seemed like the best option.”

The familiar hotness etched onto your cheeks as Stu spoke. He was so cheesy. “You always know what to say...”

“It's true though!” Stu exclaimed. “I didn’t even take anatomy!”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Wait you didn’t even take- oomf!” You were cut off by a swift pair of lips, melting into your boyfriend instantly.

“Shhh,” he whispered, remaining close to your face as you pulled away. “We’re in the library.”

“I can’t believe you,” you giggled, lazily placing a hand on his cheek.

His signature grin grew wide, “Really? Cause I’d say that I nailed the slow burn trope really well. Even better than Mr. Darcy.”

“You wish,” you chuckled once more and leaned in for another kiss.

#stu macher x reader #oneshot #slashers #scream 1996 #slasher community #scream x reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 2: You Can Run Around Infinite In My Head]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make.

Potentially a better love story than Twilight (we’ll let @killer-queen-xo decide when it’s all said and done 😉).

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Rome by Dermot Kennedy.

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Missing In Action

I wish she would stop staring at me.

Lucille sat at the Lees’ usual table and apathetically picked through a heaping salad. (Friday was salad bar day, which I appreciated considerably more than the chicken finger obsession that marred Mondays at Calawah University.) Every once in a while, Rami nudged her and Lucille would spear a cherry tomato with her fork and bite it in half with perfectly even, white teeth. But her large blue-green eyes—they reminded me of webs of seaweed tumbling in the cold, frothing La Push waves—always found their way back to me, strangely focused, inquisitive, perhaps accusatory.

Ben probably told them how much he hates me for whatever nebulous reason and now they all hate me too and I’m going to spend the next two years being death-glared by five ridiculously attractive and somewhat incestuous foster kids.

Chemistry was a three times a week class. Ben hadn’t shown on Wednesday, and I was 99% sure he would skip again today. I spotted him around campus periodically, always from a distance: dropping quarters into a vending machine, clandestinely vaping behind dorm buildings (what self-respecting pre-med student VAPES?!!), browsing YouTube videos in the library next to a tower of unopened textbooks, biology and chem and physics and calculus. He wasn’t home, he wasn’t sick; there was no attempt made to construct any sort of pretext. He was patently avoiding me.

I stabbed moodily at the serrated disks of cucumber in my salad. Jessica was blathering away about the latest season of The Bachelor and ranking the contestants’ eyebrows from best to worst. “...Like seriously, has she never heard of microblading?!”

“For real,” Angela offered, not especially invested but forever a good sport.

Lucille’s eyes settled on me again as she sipped a cup of steaming tea, staring until her forehead crinkled with the effort, staring hard, almost leering.

“What’s her problem?” I muttered.

Jessica shot a glance towards the Lee table and slurped her Sprite. The great mystery surrounding her potential Mormon-ness persisted. “Who? Lucy?”

Only Lucille’s friends called her Lucy. Jessica, a shameless aspiring socialite, presumed she was everybody’s friend unless they explicitly informed her otherwise, which of course no one ever did.

“Yeah,” I answered glumly.

“Maybe it’s your dress.”

“My dress? What’s wrong with my dress?”

Jessica wrinkled her nose and surveyed me as if I were a bug, and not a cute bug like a roly-poly bug or The Very Hungry Caterpillar or whatever. Like a really hideous bug. Like one of those spider-cricket hybrid things that hopped straight out of a hell dimension and into the dark, drippy corners of your basement. “It’s, like, very 1960s. But not in a sexy Woodstock way. In a ‘I’m about to join a hippie murder cult’ way.”

“I got it at TJ Maxx. It was on sale.”

Jessica snorted. “Probably for a reason.”

“That’s it. I’m giving all the hippies in my new murder cult your address.”

She and Angela laughed. Mike and Eric, the missing pieces of our daily lunch puzzle, were preoccupied with a campus protest to convert fried fish day (Thursdays) into tacos day. I sympathized with their efforts, but didn’t feel that my one-week tenure as a Calawah University student gave me much right to go around overhauling the dining hall schedule.

“I doubt she’s actually offended by a dress,” Angela said, nibbling on French fries that shed grains of salt like snowflakes.

Jessica sighed dreamily. “But Lucy’s just so fashionable...and that accent...” She drifted off into some daydream which began—I could only assume—with Lucy’s invitation to go shopping together and concluded with marrying Ben on some lush tropical island in the South Pacific.

Lucille was definitely fashionable, especially today: short black dress with sheer sleeves that ran to her fragile wrists, black polka dot tights, black heeled oxfords, dangling ruby earrings like beads of blood. She would have blended in perfectly at Paris Fashion Week. Rami was wearing a cardigan and khakis, per usual; Joe was in dark fitted jeans and a roomy U Chicago hoodie despite the fact that Forks was at minimum a thirty-four hour drive from the Windy City. What did Angela say his major was? Finance? No, Mathematical Economics. So he’s probably aiming at Chicago for an MBA or Econ PhD someday. Angela had told me that Joe was wicked smart. He better be if he’s entertaining fantasies of grad school at the University of Chicago.

Scarlett had come straight from Fencing Club and was wearing bright pink yoga pants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, sprinkling Hot Cheetos into her open mouth, her blonde hair secured in a tight French braid. You know those girls who are so irrationally, gluttonously, unfairly beautiful that it doesn’t seem possible the genetic lottery could spit out so many winning numbers at once, and you comfort yourself with the certainty that there must be some set of circumstances that would level the playing field—I bet she looks like anyone else without all that makeup, she just has a really good sense of style and knows how to maximize her assets, there are definitely some goofy oversized ears hiding beneath that hair and that’s why she always wears it down—and then one day you run into them wearing sweatpants and a ponytail in the tampon aisle at Walmart and they’re still so perfect it stings you, baffles you, makes you feel like there must have been some divergence in the evolutionary chain because there’s no freaking way you’re the same species? Yeah, Scarlett was one of those girls. Scarlett was the queen of those girls.

Ben was conspicuously absent from the table.

Scarlett’s pink leopard-print iPhone rang and she answered. “Hello?” She turned to Joe. “Dad says you left your phone at home. Do you need it?”

Joe was gnawing his way through his third slice of pepperoni pizza. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

Scarlett relayed the message. “Dad says he’s going to bring it by just in case.”

“Oh my god, ScarJo, I’m fine! Tell him not to!”

“Dad says he doesn’t trust you and he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes. He’s also bringing the Game Theory homework you left by the hot tub.”

Joe groaned and rolled his lively dark eyes as Rami grinned at him; Lucille was still watching me and entirely oblivious.

“Isn’t it weird that Ben and Lucille have accents?” I asked Jessica. “That they’re from the U.K.? I didn’t think fostering kids was an international thing.”

“It’s not that weird. Dr. Lee is British too. Maybe there’s some kind of exchange system, I don’t know. But you know what I do know?”

“What?” Now my interest was piqued.

She smiled. “That the British accents are hot.”

“Ugh,” I exhaled involuntarily.

“Please get a hobby,” Angela begged Jessica. “Start a YouTube channel. Make care packages for orphans. Grow marijuana. Adopt a cat. I have a shift at the animal shelter this Sunday morning, you want to come with me?”

“Sorry, can’t. I have a temple thing.”

Temple on Sunday. The mystery is solved. She’s a Mormon for sure. I mentally resolved not to let her set me up with anyone unless I was still single on Valentine’s Day. Which, obviously, assuming I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, I will be.

I gathered up my trash and slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Okay, well this has been a bizarre lunch to be completely honest, and now I have to go to Chemistry so I’ll see you later and hopefully we can brainstorm some more alternatives to Jessica’s current life trajectory on Monday. Because I am not looking forward to being a bridesmaid in these impending Lee nuptials.”

“Oh please!” Jessica lamented. “He doesn’t even know I exist. You, on the other hand...”

I scoffed. “Yeah, he wants to kill me. I truly have a gift.”

They waved as I left. I could feel Lucille’s eyes on me until I reached the door.

Sure enough, Ben wasn’t in Chemistry. I tried not to notice. I drew my atoms, wrote my equations, took my notes diligently and in my favorite sky blue ink. But I felt the emptiness in the chair next to me like a black hole, like an immense and dragging weight, like a snag in the fabric of all those interwoven strands of physics that orchestrate the universe like an immortal puppeteer. Why can’t I forget this guy? Why do I still feel like I’ve met him before?

Halfway through class, I hauled my emergency sweatshirt out of my backpack and pulled it on over my dress, floral and flowing and golden yellow like the sun, the sun that never shines here in Forks. I had liked it plenty under the florescent lights of the fitting room at TJ Maxx, and I had still liked it this morning; but Jessica’s words hummed around in my skull like wasps. The zipper of the sweatshirt was broken, but it accomplished the task of obscuring my dress well enough.

After Chemistry, I journeyed to the campus library to find a book I was supposed to read and present for a different class. I looked it up in the computer catalogue, spent an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out how the Dewey Decimal System works, eventually wound up finding the book on the highest floor of the library...and, to add a little extra peril to the mission, on the highest shelf. The book mocked me from its lofty, unattainable stronghold. The title was embossed in gold letters down the crimson spine. The Walruses And Me: A Transformative Experience. Idiotic title, I’m aware. It’s about some marine biologist who spent months alone in the Arctic studying the lifecycles of walruses. A noble pursuit, sure, but still a terrible title.

There wasn’t a chair or stepstool in sight. I tested my weight by stepping up onto the second-lowest shelf. The metal immediately squealed and shifted in protest. I retreated back down to the carpet, defeated by gravity. I scowled up at the book and sighed melodramatically. Ugh.

“Need something?”

I spun around to see Joe in his University of Chicago hoodie and pale flawless skin and intangible magnetism, that bewildering trademark Lee ethereality. I instinctively crossed my arms, clutching the sleeves of my sweatshirt, shrinking inwards like a startled armadillo in the Arizona desert.

“Are you, uh, anemic...?” he ventured.

“Oh no, I’m not cold. I’m just trying to hide my dress. My friend said it was too hippie-murder-cult 1960s.”

I figured he’d laugh, make a snide comment, maybe just blink in confusion. Instead, he glimpsed down at my dress—what could still be seen of it, anyway—and shook his head. “The neckline isn’t right for the 60s. And you seem like you’ve showered at least once in the past two weeks, so definitely not a hippie.”

I smiled, completely unexpectedly. “I didn’t realize Econ majors knew anything about leftist counterculture.”

“Disparaging it is our favorite pastime. Are you trying to get a book or are you just disrespecting university property for entertainment?”

I pointed. “The big red one.”

“The Walruses And Me...?”

“I know, it’s a horrible title. Not my personal preference. It’s for a class.”

“Bestiality 101?”

“Good guess. Marine Mammals.”

“Ahhh.” He glanced up and down the aisle, tapped his chin with agile fingers, pondered something I wasn’t privy to. “Turn around for a second.”

“What? Why?”

He waved his hand mysteriously in front of his grinning face. “It’s a magic trick. I’m going to make your problem disappear.”

“You can’t climb that,” I warned. “You’ll fall and break your neck. Or you’ll knock the whole shelf over and cause a tragic domino effect and the university will withhold your diploma until you pay them restitution.”

“I’m extremely athletic.”

“Are you sure?” I appraised him with exaggerated skepticism for comedic effect. “My dad refers to you only as the spindly annoying Lee.”

Oh my god, WHY did I say that?

Now he would definitely hate me. Now I’d have two mortal enemies on one campus. I mentally calculated how humiliating it would be to transfer to some Florida college, any Florida college, after only one week at Calawah. Hi mom, yeah I’m coming to live with you and Paul, a gang of hot pasty foster kids wants to slaughter me.

Instead, Joe threw back his head and cackled wildly. A librarian—mid-fifties, angry red hair from out of a box, fuzzy cat sweater—glared into the aisle and shushed him.

“Chief Swan...he actually...he calls me that? Really?!” Joe managed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That’s hilarious. I’m so glad my life is in his hands. Okay seriously, turn around.”

“Why would you help me?” I asked suspiciously.

“That’s just what I do. I’m a friendly guy.”

“This friendliness must not run in the family.”

Again, Joe’s cheerful demeanor didn’t falter. “You mean Ben? Forget about Ben, he hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.” Then he added: “Plus, as I’m sure you know, we’re not biologically related. No overlapping genetic material whatsoever. I didn’t get the male supermodel gene, he didn’t get the irresistibly charming gene, life’s not fair but the world keeps spinning.”

“It sure does,” I agreed softly. Unexpected wisdom from my new favorite Lee. I turned away from him. “Fine, I’m not looking, go ahead and dazzle me with your supernatural friendliness—”

“Done.”

“What?” I whirled around. Joe held The Walruses And Me in his hand. “How...did you...?!”

He passed me the book as I sputtered incoherently. “I told you. Magic trick.”

“I don’t....?!” I gawked up at the top shelf, at Joe, back to the top shelf. Sure enough, the space where The Walruses And Me once lived was now just a vacant slit in the row of dusty books. How could he have climbed up there that quickly? How could I not have heard anything? “The shelves didn’t even creak,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes, well, that’s due to my conveniently spindly physique.” Joe winked. “Any other problems I can help you solve at the moment, Baby Swan?”

“No. And don’t call me Baby Swan, or I’ll push this whole bookshelf over and tell the feisty librarian lady you did it.”

“That’s cold, ma’am.”

I liked that Joe didn’t make me feel like Ben did: unworthy, unloved, infuriating. Joe made me feel something else, something lighthearted, casual, buoyant; like the world didn’t have anything in it worth worrying about, regretting, agonizing over. Like unadulteratedly myself was all I ever needed to be.

I heard a muted buzz and Joe slid his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. Dr. Lee must have successfully delivered it. “Whoops, I forgot that Ordinary Differential Equations existed. Got to go. See ya.”

“Bye,” I replied. And then Joseph Lee was gone, very quickly, a little too quickly, the same way that Ben had vanished on that first afternoon after Chemistry.

Forks is weird. Calawah University is weird. And the Lee kids are super fucking weird.

Long Walks On The Beach

“Can I ask you a random question?”

“You just paid me $100 for an oil change that took fifteen minutes. You can ask me anything you want.” He grinned, flashing bright teeth and deep dimples.

It was Saturday afternoon. I had shoveled down a Chipotle veggie bowl as Archer changed the 1999 Accord’s oil in a small garage with a cracked concrete floor and the searing pungency of gasoline fumes thick in the air. He had apprenticed all through high school and rented his own shop after graduation. Archer now had a loyal clientele that encompassed virtually the entire Quileute reservation and a growing chunk of Forks...including Charlie and me, of course. Archer was the only child of Larry Foxchild—Charlie’s best friend since they worked together at Dairy Queen as teenagers—and the closest thing to a son my dad would ever have. I guess that made him like a brother to me, something that seemed intuitive now that I’d thought of it.

After the Accord was serviced we drove it down to La Push to walk on the beach, climb the salt-lashed rocks, toss pebbles into the roiling surf, reprise our childhood enthusiasm for poking dead washed-up marine creatures with shards of driftwood.

“Do you know anything about the Lees?” I asked Archer, investigating a deceased green shore crab.

His brow furrowed. He looked so serious like that, suddenly so much like Larry: the same tan skin, jet black hair, umbral eyes like oil wells, strong jaw overlaid with the stubbled shadow of a beard. We really aren’t kids anymore, are we? “The doctor and his kids?”

“Yeah. The foster kids. They’re really pale and strange and half of them are British.”

Archer chuckled. “I know who you mean. They’re hard to miss.”

“Are they...” Just eccentric rich people? Traumatized from abusive childhoods? Government experiments? CIA agents? Secret murderers? The image of Ben in that first Chemistry class came roaring back to me, including the adjective that had flashed red behind my eyes like an emergency exit sign: fierce. Finally, I decided: “Dangerous?”

Now Archer full-on laughed, gripping his belly, shaking his head. Drops of saltwater flew from his short hair. “Seriously?!” he exclaimed. “Come on, they’re freaks but they’re not, like...that kind of freaks.”

“Are you sure?” I was starting to feel better already. Of course they’re not actual demons, you fucking idiot. This is Washington, not The Twilight Zone or Black Mirror. Not goddamn American Horror Story.

“Yeah.” Archer skipped a grey pebble over the water, something I’d never been able to do. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know them all that well. They usually keep to themselves. But I’ve never heard anything bad about any of the kids. And everyone respects Dr. Lee and appreciates him for taking the pay cut to come to some bumblefuck town like Forks. He’s insanely highly credentialed, has degrees from Harvard or Yale or somewhere like that. Super impressive. We’re lucky to have him. I definitely sleep better at night knowing he’ll be the one to fix me up if I ever get a few fingers ripped off on the job.”

“Don’t even say that. Then who would I grossly overpay for oil changes?”

Archer smiled, then sobered as he peered out over the Pacific Ocean.

“What?” I asked, feeling a plummeting in my guts like primal fear.

“Well...okay, so there is one thing that’s always bothered me. You remember Grandpa Foxchild?”

“Yeah, of course.” He had been an impossibly ancient man with long grey braided hair, a low rumbly voice, gnarled arthritic hands, ceaseless wrinkles. I remembered Charlie calling me when he passed away last spring. Renee and I had picked out a flower arrangement to send to the funeral.

“So,” Archer said slowly, like he was still puzzling it out himself. “Grandpa used to say things like ‘That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.’ Which of course makes no sense, the Lees moved here like two years ago. And I’d tell Grandpa that, but he completely ignored me. He would just keep repeating it. ‘That Dr. Lee shouldn’t still be here.’ ‘That Dr. Lee should go on home to where he came from.’ ‘That Dr. Lee isn’t right.’ Creepy shit like that. My dad and I always assumed it was the dementia talking, but...I don’t know. It just bothered me. Because Grandpa...he wasn’t just being gossipy or suspicious. He was angry. And he was afraid. Grandpa was at Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima and he would talk about that no problem, mention landmines or flesh melting off a soldier’s face like it was nothing. He was a tough guy. Immeasurably tough, I’ll never be half the man he was. But if you mentioned the Lees, Grandpa got scared. Why the hell would he be so scared of them?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, not a single word. I just stared at Archer, my eyes growing huge, my heart sprinting, blood pounding in my ears. He knew. Grandpa Foxchild knew there was something off about them, and now I know it too. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

Archer tittered nervously. “Anyway, that was genuinely disturbing. But like I said. It was probably just the dementia.”

“What if it wasn’t?”

“It had to be,” he insisted. “There’s no other logical explanation.”

“I guess,” I agreed, scooping up the green shore crab corpse with my bare hands. I hurled it out into the waves, imagined it sinking through murky water and suspended grains of sand, the body settling into prehistoric silt, the scavengers descending upon it, the inescapable wheel of birth and death and resurrection through those who unwittingly carry our atoms with them into the next generation, into the perpetual future.

That night my dreams were full of pale skin and scorching eyes, Ben and Joe and Rami, Lucille and Scarlett, crashing waves, cold water and bleached bones; and Grandpa Foxchild’s mistrustful refrain: That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.

Benjamin

I soared down the staircase and through the dining room. Gwil was working late at the hospital, Mercy outside tending the animals, everyone else presumably scattered throughout the house. I had to get out before anyone noticed me. I had to get out without Rami or Lucy knowing.

I yanked open the door to the back porch. Rami was waiting there.

“Good evening,” he greeted me in that slow, thoughtful drawl.

“Stay the fuck out of my head.”

“You know how it works, Benny Boy. I can’t ignore the loud thoughts. And you’ve been having some very loud thoughts lately.”

I stared down at my shoes, all black Adidas. Black is good. It doesn’t show stains. For example, purely hypothetically, splatters of human blood and organs. “I can make it quick. I can make it painless.”

Rami’s aura flared maroon; not enraged, no, not quite that, but certainly revolted. I was always finding new and horrifying ways to revolt them, whether I was trying to or not. “She has a family, Ben. A father. You know Chief Swan, you’ve seen him around town. He’s a good person. She’s a good person. You really want to do this? You really want to relapse like this?”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t have to. Hearing thoughts is a tricky thing, and not a gift that I would ever want; unspoken words are rarely a steam and usually a storm, disjointed and twisting, interrupting each other, bottomless layers of whispers and screams. But I was sure Rami could catch the important parts: that I didn’t know the difference between good and bad people, that I didn’t know what to think of people at all, that for me her blood was not a desire but a compulsion. I couldn’t stop envisioning it spilling over my tongue and teeth, down my throat, hot and pulsing erratically and fading. “Why can’t you hear her? Why can’t I see what she’s feeling?”

Rami shrugged, characteristically placid and restrained. It was maddening. “There are seven and a half billion people on this planet. So maybe every once in a while you get one that lives in our blind spots, there’s something chromosomal or psychological that puts them on a different frequency. I don’t know. How the hell should I know? All I know is that you definitely shouldn’t be seriously considering...well. What you’re considering.”

“Have you ever met someone whose thoughts you couldn’t hear before?”

“No,” Rami admitted; and was that a ghost of unease that crossed his face?

“Please, Rami. Let me go. Pretend you never saw me.” My words come out strained, hushed, like a spilled secret, like a confession. I’ve never wanted anyone’s blood like I want hers.

He heard that; I could see the dismay in his eyes. Now his aura is dark grey, almost black. Disappointment. Resignation. Mourning. “I told you what Lucy saw.”

“What she saw is impossible and you know it.”

Again, Rami shrugged. That blind, mindless faith. I wished I knew what it felt like. “She’s never wrong.”

“Have you told him?”

“Who, Joe?! Of course I haven’t told Joe. He...”

“He wouldn’t believe it either?” I snapped, like it was a victory.

“No,” Rami amended carefully. “No, he would believe anything Lucy saw.” Lucy had visions: flashes of the future, the past, the present. They were rare and unpredictable, often fragmented, snapshots rather than arcs. But they were always true. Or, rather, the other Lees claimed they were. The real Lees. “I don’t know what he would do about it,” Rami said finally. “So I’m waiting it out. And killing one of the primary participants is definitely not waiting it out.”

I seethed as I glared at him, hating him in that moment, hating myself only slightly more; and he heard that too. But then that wispy, fleeting haze around him was a pink like the last threads of sunlight sinking into the Western horizon. Forgiveness. Attachment. Love.

“Come with me, Ben,” Rami said gently, opening the door. “Come back inside. You can beat this. You’re better than this. You’re a good soul. You wouldn’t be with us if you weren’t.”

I tried to laugh. It came out like a snarl. “I haven’t had a soul in a long time.”

#joe mazzello fic #joe mazzelo x reader #borhap #borhap fic #borhap cast fic #twilight au #twilight #supernatural au

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heesgf · 5 years

Text

studying w/ lee byounggon!

hello cutest ppl of the world!!! here is a present for u <3 and pls read my scenario for bad boy gon!! or soft blurb gon

studying w/ lee byounggon (a bad idea)

OK SO you and byounggon have AP biology together, and somehow, by the grace of GOd himself, you’ve made it to the end of the year

It’s time for ur final exam!!! yay!! because u can finally peace TF out of that class, but aww :’(( bc you have a final exam with 100 multiple choice and 10 written questions 😔

some of ur ap bio shenanigans have included:

byounggon reading multiple questions OUT LOUD while you are writing the test and he literally doesn’t even notice

Like he just does it so naturally??? you’ll be side eyeing him through the divider that separates your desks

in your head, you’ll be like “AHEMMMM at LEAST read out the answers too damn ...”

He does not read out the answers :/

even tho it can be kind of off-putting, his voice is rlly deep and soothing!!!! so honestly it kind of helps your test anxiety

......but u will never admit that... he would have too much power

you and byounggon once made an animal cell out of rice krispy treats & candy

you guys left the project to the very last minute because collectively u have one brain cell

U guys started building but then u ate so much candy, you ended up puking🤮

After u had released the #barf, you and byounggon choose to cuddle up on the couch and u just chill for a couple hours

Somehow u convinced him to watch bird box????? He was DYING!!!

But it’s ok bc ur the Best Significant Other Ever and you used imdb to research every possible death scene!! and u gave him a solid 3 second warning every time

ONE TIME u were just a little bit off and he watched something a lil gruesome

U lost ur abiliity to hear from the scream that he released

“im never watching a movie with you AGAIN!”

“i said i was SORRY sodfjsdiofjsdio”

He complained for so long but then you promised you’d make it up to him with some kisses and he was like.... “hehehe ok im down”

a whole baby!!!!!

Its around 11pm now!! You and gon are cuddling on the couch, and it’s so warm, and cute, and wholesome <333

Ur running ur fingers through his soft hair and playing with his fingers; he’s just calmly humming and loving every minute of this

u start to close ur eyes and u feel kinda sleepy, so you lay your head on byounggon’s chest and just nestle in

you’re about to say “goodnight chief” and call it a night

But something feels off?

u suddenly shoot TF up and your mind is racing and ur like “thE PROJECT !!”, real movie type shit

Ur trying not to LOSE UR MIND while byounggon is just snoring away... his arms are wrapped so tightly around u, and ur mind is still 23% asleep

honestly... maybe u should just lean back into his chest and fall asleep....

But then ur guilt complex is like ‘NO the pROJECT’

U want to wake him up but Byounggon: has left the chat

You start poking at his cheek erratically, and when he FINALLY wakes up, he’s all mumbley and tired and CUTE

U break the tragic news to him and now you’re both contemplating mental breakdowns

For the next 6 hours you guys are DEDICATED to this project

U show up to school the next morning with ur masterpiece:

(yall i rlly made that shit, respect me)

your eyes are SO unbelievably red, and for some reason, ur hair has marshmallow fluff in it????? u have to convince byounggon not to eat that shit on four separate occasions

“It looks yummy”

“PLS restrain urself”

So ur looking a little bit busted, but still cute, bc ur BEAUTIFUL nd sexy

SOMEHOW byounggon still looks perfect???? He looks like he’s just been rejuvenated by 10 hours of sleep; his skin is glowing and his eyes are twinkling... #unfair

when u guys show up to class, your teacher is sO happy with your project!!!!

but then she takes one look at you and she’s like, “(y/n) can i talk to you for a minute pls?”

“ uhh yeah ok, sure!!”

U think she’s about to tell you that she’s so proud of you both for coming up with such a creative idea, and for doing such a good job with the materials u used, but then she’s like:

“(y/n) ur eyes are so red”

ur kinda :’((( bc u think she’s about to scold you for pulling an allnighter...she’s a mama bear

“Pls stop smoking before class it’s rlly inappropriate”

Ur mouth is dropped WIDE open and byounggon is in the corner, snickering the sleep deprivation away: u want to kILL HIM!

Honestly, ur so shook, u kinda just stand there in silence while your teacher just shakes her head and does one of those “tsk tsk tsk” things and walks away

When u go back to ur desk, byounggon is like, “yea (y/n), u should rlly stop smoking at school, it’s super rude and honestly kind of distract-”

The look u give him makes him shut UP IMMEDIATELY

but then he just cranes his long arms around ur waist and smiles into the crook of ur neck and he’s like: “baby im sorry i love u”

So wholesome :’))))

Ur choked up?? And after all that work, a little bit delirious? U lean back into him and tilt ur head to the side so he can kiss u

when he pulls away he gives u this rlly uneven smirk

“even if u smoke before class”

“RUN AWAY RIGHT NOW OR IM GONNA [redacted]”

A couple weeks later, u guys have to do this lab on human heart rate and metabolism

bc byounggon is ur deskmate, he’s also ur lab partner (unfortunately)

Byounggon is RLLY SMART, but honestly u guys are just rlly unproductive when ur together bc u just want to. . .. hug him (relatable)

For one part of the lab, somebody needs to stick their hand into ice water while the other person monitors their heart rate

Byounggon REALLY passionately wants to be the one to dunk his hand in the water tank and ur just like “lmao ok calm down”

HIS HAND HAS BEEN IN THE ICE WATER FOR THREE MINUTES

@ this point, ur concerned x 3493049304930

He’s just like: “im FINE it’s FINE, keep going”

His eyes are TWITCHING

U have to forcefully yank his hand out of the water because he literally will NOT??? why is he like this

But it’s ok bc u warmed up his hand with lots hand holding and sweet lil kisses <333333

overall, bio have been a WILD ride, but byounggon has made it so much more enjoyable,,, and u guys love each other lots,,, (y/n) and byounggon for cutest couple 2k19 😘

Okay so now for the studying!!!

byounggon kind of had to beg to get you to study with him at the library

but that’s only because every time u study with him, u dont retain SHIT, bc ur too busy drooling over his jawline

U wanted to be rlly strict and firm so you could actually be well prepared!!!! But when he started whining and hugging on you,,,, what wEre you SUppOSED to DO?!?

So NOW, u and gon are at the library

U make him sit across from u

Because the lord knows, if he’s sitting next to, he will not stop kissing ur face and u RLLY need to do some learning!!! Studious Queen

twelve minutes into mitosis and chill, byounggon is pouting and using his biology textbook as a pillow

Literally byounggon is the kind of guy that looks like he’d be a rlly messy student, but he will take one look at the textbook, and get a 96%

So ofc, he’s like... “studying... who’s she?”

He’s just staring at you

In this moment, u look SO CUTE, bc ur head is burried in your book, and ur hair is adorably messy, and ur eyebrows are scrunched together bc ur rlly focused

Ur the cutest thing he ever saw?????

“Gon,,, baby u have to stop staring at me,, i can’t concentrate”

He’s so GOOFY

“im noooooooooot”

(he totally is)

It’s been about two hours?? Byounggon took a power nap, and u reviewed everything u possibly could,,, now u just want byounggon to hum u to sleep

byounggon is POWERED UP (stream power up by red velvet) from his nap and he’s very, very, very giddy

And a lil clingy bc u haven’t cuddled him today yet :/

He’s been saying “mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell” for about 8 minutes,,, u would throw ur bag of hot cheetos at him but he’s just too pretty

He’s laughing AT HIMSELF

Ur shaking ur head and laughing at him too

The librarian POPS UP out of literally nowhere?? She looks at byounggon playing candy crush on his phone and she’s like “SHHHHHHHHHH!!! young man! you are being so disrespectful! this place is for students to study! U need to leave immediately”

She’s about to point her finger at you too, but then:

“Ma’am i’ve never seen this boy in my whole life” 😜

Byounggon is Taken Aback™

He rlly can’t believe u just did that

U start laughing so hard bc PAYBACK

But his mind is just thinking.. . “top ten worst anime betrayals of all time”

The librarian is so annoyed with both of you she just turns around and mumbles something like “stupID KIDS”

U have to lug byounggon outside bc now he’s #embarrassed bc of the librarian, and #hurt because u threw him under the bus

He’s still pretending to be upset by the time u guys make it back to his house, and u have to give him all sorts of compliments to make everything okay again

“ur chin.... is straight SEXY”

“i think it’s cute that u eat bananas with sriracha”

“i, for one, like the screams you make when we watch horror movies”

THE COMPLIMENTS ARE SO STUPID BUT FOR SOME REASON HE’S BLUSHING???? blushy babyyyyy 💖

u conclude with a veryyyy sweet kiss on his lips

let’s just say... he forgives u

THE NEXT DAY!!! It’s time for ur exam omgomg :’))))))

byounggon finishes that shit in 26 minutes and somehow ends up getting a 92%

it took u a solid 48 minutes and u ended up with a nice and spicy 90%

he gets the better mark bc he’s god Lee Byounggon??? U will never understand bc he rlly doesn’t even try.... U can’t relate

But it’s ok

Because he’s the cutest thing to ever exist in the world, and even if he makes u the most unproductive person in existence, u love him more than anything <333

And he loves u bby!!!!!

the librarian, on the other, loves neither of u 😔 ......

THE END ! ! ! !

i love u all!! and thank u for ur support!! hit like if u feel bad for the librarian 😔

#ygtb #ygtb scenario #yg treasure box #PLS POST #byounggon scenario

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