#also wrote a small fanfic in a day... that was more hard

[ranray]

Pencil + pastel art of birthday boy!

Happy Birthday to my favorite character, I love u so much 🥰

[pathologicalreid]

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

[slashv1xen]

bo sinclair’s reaction to you flinching

fem!reader x lovesick/obsessed bo sinclair

category: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort

the two of you were having an argument. what about? his anger problems

y/n: “you always do this, you seriously need to get your short temper in check”

bo: “my temper ‘s perfectly fine, ya just looking for reasons to argue”

y/n: “you’re raising your voice now! don’t you understand that yelling like this makes everyone else feel like shit?”

bo: *rolls eyes.* “just shut up, okay?!”

he stepped forward towards you aggressively and you flinched. hard.

when he saw this his eyes flashed with hurt and he took a small step back. his jaw was slightly agape, then hardened as he thought of his actions. ‘is she seriously afraid of me?’

you began breathing heavily, and bo sighed whilst running his hand through his hair. your eyes darted around nervously, waiting for a larger reaction

to your surprise, he walked up to you slowly and hugged you, his muscular arms wrapping around your upper back. his face was in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. his eyes watered slightly, and you mouth went dry as you felt you neck becoming damp

“are you afraid of me? you know i’ll never hurt you, right?” he sniffled, then looked up at you for reassurance, his nose and corners of his eyes red, and his cheeks damp from his hot tears.

you stayed silent for a few seconds, unsure how to comfort him. bo’s never this emotional, so it truly was a sight to see. “i know bo, i’m not afraid of you. i’m sorry, i was just…” you sighed and ran your fingers through his hair, smiling at him reassuringly.

his head fell into the crook of your neck once more, finding comfort in this position. he mumbled a few words, words you couldn’t hear. “what was that, bo?”

his face heated up, you didn’t even need to see it, you could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. “let’s just cuddle together” he mumbled again quietly. you laughed at his shyness, and the two of you made it to the bedroom, and reconciled.

authors note: hi loves, this is my first fanfic and i hope you enjoyed it! sorry if it is rushed, i wrote this at 12am while i was supposed to be sleeping. if you have any feedback, please say i would love to improve my writing. if you have any requests i would also love to complete those. i also feel like this is out of character but it’s all up to interpretation i guess. thank you for reading and have a great day x

[oreolemur]

Desperation- Choso Fanfic

Receiving letters from Choso sent chills down your spine. He kept trying to confess his love for you after you helped him fight off his bullies. The man was obsessed with you, but you didn't want him. You sat in bed, reading the numerous letters he wrote to you. The letters detailed his feelings in great detail. The one from this morning mentioned how much he missed you and that he couldn't wait to see you after school. Another from a few days ago mentioned how he thought about you all the time and wanted to be with you forever. There were several more with similar sentiments from the past weeks. "Why does he keep writing to me?", you said to yourself. "Does he not get the message?”. You had told him several times that you didn't want to be with him, but he didn't seem to get it. You tried to be civil by still talking to him in school, but he took any small interaction as a sign that he still had a chance. You tossed all the letters in the trash and headed to bed, trying to forget about Choso and his weird obsession with you. You fell asleep quickly, hoping that tomorrow would go by without any drama from him. 

The next day as you were walking in the hallway, you saw Choso. "Oh no", you said. You tried to walk the other way, but he saw you before you could get the chance to avoid him. Choso spotted you immediately and started walking towards you. You tried to make a quick escape, but he had you cornered. He walked right up to you and said, "Hi." in a low tone. "H-hey", you said, trying not to sound weirded out by him. Choso's gaze was intense, making you feel uncomfortable. The way he stood so close to you was also unsettling. You tried to keep your tone friendly, even though your heart was beating fast. You hoped he couldn't hear how hard you were breathing. "So...I...ugh got your letters", you said. Choso nodded and said, "Yes, I wrote them for you." His voice was steady, but there was a hint of desperation in his tone. He continued, "I was just hoping that if I wrote enough letters, you might change your mind”.

You decided to confess to him again. "I appreciate you having feelings for me, but...I'm not interested in having a relationship". Choso's face fell as he heard your words. The sadness was clear on his face, but he tried not to show it too much. He nodded and said, "I understand. If you feel that way, I respect your decision." His voice had a slight crack, showing his disappointment. Despite the rejection, he kept his composure and said, "Is it okay if we still stay friends?". You nodded. "Of course. That's all I want". Choso gave a small smile at your response. Clearly, he had wanted a different outcome, but at least he could keep you in his life, even if only as a friend. He said, "Thank you for being honest with me. It means a lot." Despite the rejection, he was trying to stay positive and continue to talk to you. 

You were glad that Choso understood where you were coming from, but you couldn't shake this feeling that something bad was going to happen. There was something about Choso's reaction that made your gut instinct act up. You couldn't help but wonder if he truly accepted what you told him, or if he was just hiding his true feelings. Something inside you told you to be careful around him, but you couldn't exactly explain it. You decided to change the subject and hope your gut was wrong. After talking with him for a minute, you and Choso shared your goodbyes. "I'll see you around, ok", you said. Choso nodded and said, "Of course. See you around." Despite the awkward nature of the conversation, he appeared to be taking the rejection well and was being civil toward you. You couldn't help but feel relieved that it didn't end in a worse way. You were still a little uneasy around him, but you brushed it off and started walking away.

❤~Time Skip~❤

Later that night, Choso was in his dorm, doing his homework. His mind was still flooded with rejection and he didn't like it. The man took out his special book that was filled with photos of you. He had been taking pictures of you without your knowledge, and keeping them here. He stared at the pictures, the emotions from earlier flooding back to him. The rejection and how you didn't want to be with him hurt him, which only made him want you more. Choso continued to stare at the pictures, growing increasingly obsessed with you. His voice grew cold as he said, "She's mine and mine only." His obsession with you had grown stronger, and he wasn't going to let you slip away. He was determined to make you his, no matter the cost. 

Choso spent the rest of the night obsessing over you, planning ways to express to you how much you meant to him. He was no longer content to sit back and let you get away from him. He wanted to show you that he was serious about his feelings for you and wasn't going to let anything get in his way. "I have to have her", he said. "I have to make her love me". Choso continued to mutter to himself about how he needed to have you, how he needed to make you love him. You were all he could think about, and not having you would be unbearable for him. He was completely consumed by his obsession with you, and this thought made him grow even more determined to make you his. Choso decided that he needed to send one final letter to you, but this time it would be a warning rather than a confession of his feelings. This letter would make it clear to you how serious he is about you. 

Meanwhile, you spent the night in your dorm, getting ready for bed. "I'm glad he understands", you said to yourself. "Hopefully those creepy letters will stop now". You tried to put the whole situation out of your mind and hoped that he truly accepted your rejection. You were tired and just wanted to get some sleep, but something deep inside you told you to stay alert. "Why do I keep getting this strange feeling?". You tried to ignore the feeling, dismissing it as just your imagination running away with you. You crawled into bed, trying to get some rest, but the feeling continued to plague you. You tossed and turned, unable to relax or get comfortable. The feeling kept gnawing at you, making it hard to get comfortable or sleep. Just as you were about to head to bed, there was a loud knock at your door, which startled you. It was late in the night, and you weren't expecting anyone to visit you at this hour. You said, "Who is it?" but received no answer. You got off your bed, opening the door cautious as you wondered who could be there at this late hour. 

You cautiously opened the door and saw no one there. To your surprise, there was a letter on the ground that caught your attention. You saw that it had your name written on it and picked it up carefully, hoping it wasn't another love letter. You examined the outside of the envelope, then decided to open it. “I can't keep ignoring my feelings for you. I can't just accept the way things are and move on. I love you too much to just let you go. If you won't be with me willingly, then I'll have to make you mine. I know the best way to make you love me, and I'm going to use it. I'll see you soon ❤”. You were filled with fear as you read the letter. Choso's words sounded like a threat, and it caused your heart to drop. You realized that he wasn't going to accept rejection, and he was going to use some sort of method to make you his. The "best way" and "make you love me" part of the sentence was particularly eerie.

It almost sounded like he was going to use force or something sinister to get your affection. Your heart was beating fast, and you felt an icy chill go down your spine. You rip up the letter in a fit of frustration and sorrow. You couldn't believe that a simple rejection would cause someone to become so obsessed or even resort to threats. You didn't know what would motivate Choso to send a letter like that, but it didn't matter. All you could think about was his words, and how he planned to make you love him. You felt a surge of fear as you thought about what his "method" for making you love him might be.

You made sure to avoid Choso for the next few days, not wanting to interact with him. You didn't see him during your shared classes and decided that him not being there was a good thing. Your mind was still focused on that ominous letter, and you were anxious about what he might do if he saw you again. You tried to stay on your guard and told yourself to take precautions when going to your dorm or anywhere else where you might bump into him.  You went about your daily routine for the next two weeks and didn't see Choso once. Even though you were glad that he wasn't around, you couldn't help but feel that it was strange that you hadn't seen him at all. You had shared classes with him and would normally see him pretty often, so it felt odd that he was nowhere to be found. You kept wondering where he was, but you were also relieved that you didn't have to deal with his obsession for the time being. 

❤~That Night~❤

You were walking back to your dorm one night, hoping that the walk would be uneventful. You felt uneasy for some reason, and a sense that you were being followed suddenly crept over you. You stopped, looking behind you only to see no one there. No one was visible that you could see, but something in you told you otherwise. You got an uneasy feeling, like someone was watching you. "I'm probably just tired", you said, nervously. You tried to convince yourself that it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but the feeling of being watched refused to subside. You felt tense and nervous, as if someone was hiding somewhere. You couldn't see anyone directly watching you, but you had a strong sense that someone or something was following you. The sense of paranoia grew stronger, and you found yourself looking over your shoulder and around you constantly. 

Just as you were about to open the door to your dorm, someone ran up behind you, putting a cloth over your mouth and nose. The sudden attack took you by surprise, and you struggled to breathe as you were forcefully pulled into a nearby alleyway. Your attacker was quick and stealthy, and you couldn't see who it was. All you could do was struggle and try to breath while the cloth was over your mouth. You continued to struggle and try to get away from your attacker as the cloth on your face made it harder and harder to breathe. You could feel your strength beginning to wane as the oxygen deprivation took its toll on you. After you start to pass out, your vision begins to get blurry and your body becomes weak as you struggle to remain conscious. Choso looks down at your unconscious body with a grin on his face. He looks completely unhinged and crazed, his mind consumed by his obsession with you. He drags your body back to his dorm, where he plans to carry out his plan. 

You slowly begin to regain consciousness. You're not sure how much time has passed, but you eventually begin to gain clarity. Your head is pounding and your vision is still blurry. Your body feels weak, and you're not sure where you are. You struggle to move and open your eyes, your breathing labored. As you come to your senses, the first thing you see is Choso standing in front of you. "Ch-Choso?", you said, weakly. Choso glances down at you as he hears your weak voice, a sinister grin spreading across his face. He looks down at you with cold eyes as he leans in closer, his face just inches from yours. "You're awake," he says in a calm but cold tone. Choso walks to his door and locks it, seemingly not caring that he just locked you in with him. The only sound in the room is you panting and his breathing. He steps closer to you, his body looming and threatening. "I'm going to make you mine," he says in a low voice, his eyes filled with obsession and insanity.

"What are you talking about?", you questioned. Choso continues to stand over you, his eyes fixed on yours. "I've decided that if you won't be my girlfriend willingly, I'm going to have to do this the hard way." He says calmly, not seeming angry or agitated in the slightest. He leans down even closer to you until your heads are mere inches apart. "I'm going to make you love me”. You looked at him confused. "You can't just force me to love you". Choso ignores your words and leans even closer to you until his face is just inches from yours. "Of course, I can't. But there are ways to make people feel things they otherwise wouldn't”. The way he said those last words made it sound like a threat. "It's simple, really. I just need to put you through an experience that will break you down and make you love me”. 

Choso's face remained calm and unExpressionate as he took off his clothes, revealing his muscular body. His body looked incredibly fit and toned, something he's probably been doing to impress you. Instead of making you feel attracted, the sight only made you feel even more scared. He ignored your words as he looked down at you with cold eyes. He continued to strip, stripping his pants and his top. As you desperately tried to scoot away, he grabbed your ankle and pulled you close to him. You found yourself unable to move and were helplessly trapped as he pulled you closer to him. He said nothing and just looked at you, a hint of madness in his gaze. He positioned himself, between your legs, reaching up your skirt. “Please, Choso”, you whined. 

He pulled and tugged on your panties, ripping them off. The cold air in his room hit your bare pussy. You tried to close your legs, but Choso stood firm between them. His lower half moved closer too, making his cock hit your cunt. He rubbed his dick against you, feeling how warm and wet you were. “Choso”, you whine again. “Please don’t do this. You don’t have to do this”. He pushed you further onto the bed, getting on top of you. “You know, y/n…”, he paused, shoving himself in you. You gasped at the sudden thrust, feeling your cervix breaking. Blood trickled down your thighs as Choso proceeded to fuck you. “I read your diary”. You tried to listen to him, but the pain kept distracting you. “I read all about how you fantasize about being raped and toyed around with”, he continued. “If that’s something you like…”, he grunted. “I can give that to you”. 

He threw your leg over his shoulder, fucking your tight cunt harder. Your body went limp as you laid underneath Choso. You felt disgusted. The pain you first felt started to turn into pleasure. “Why am I starting to like this?”, you asked yourself. “All that stuff I wrote was a lie. A mere thought I had when I was depressed”. Choso’s dick slid in and out of you at a slow but medium pace. His dick was huge, stretching your walls open with each hard thrust. His face was red and his breath was heavy. He enjoyed the power he had over you as he forced you to take him. “I know you like this”, he whispered. He leaned into you, grabbing your throat. He slightly choked you as he quickened his pace. “I love you so much, y/n”, he said in your ear. “I don’t care how much I hurt you, as long as you love me that’s all that matters”. He fucked you faster and harder, soon dropping his warm cum inside you. He kept himself in you for a hot minute, making sure that every drop spilled into your womb. “I hate you”, you said under your breath. Choso didn’t care. He knew that this was only the beginning. 

❤~One month later~❤

It had been a month since that dreadful night had happened. Choso’s attempt at making you love him didn’t work, but he still never gave up on you. He kept a watchful eye on you, meeting up with you every chance he got, which was every day. You couldn’t tell your friends about you and Choso’s forced relationship. You knew it wouldn’t end well. “I love you”, Choso said, laying on top of you. He just got done fucking you. You looked up at the ceiling with soulless eyes. He kissed your neck, marking your soft flesh. “Your skin is so soft”, he complimented. He looked into your eyes as he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Till death do us part, my love”, he smiled. 

[flamingo-writes]

I'm literally begging you 🙏🏽😭 for a gentle/sfw fic or head canons (it's so rare to see a fic of Hobie that is not nsfw😔) where Hobie has a significant other (that is also a spider person from Mexico from different universe) that has cottagecore vibes and is really colorful unlike Hobie but they still love each other, and it's just Hobie visiting them in there universe or they went on a date and it's just a sweet moment💓

I adore how well you write Hobie, I wish you well and thank you in advance 💕

I absolutely loved this!! I wanted to write an actual fanfic but the freaking heat wave and the seasonal depression are making it hard for me to write extensive pieces 😭😭 so I wrote this in headcanon's format. I hope you like it.

the song Corazón de Rubí by El Búho ft Miük helped inspire this.

Corazón de Rubí – Hobie x Mexican!Reader.

Hobie could never really understand what people meant when they said "warm winter"

Seriously? What the fuck was that? Winter was always cold. Sometimes it was less cold that previous years. But it was always cold.

At least until he met you.

Not only in the cheesy metaphoric way. Hobie is artistic, not only he's a visual artist, he's a musician. Of course he's thought about it in a metaphoric way.

Something he'd always keep hidden, maybe except from you.

But you literally were warmer.

From the friendly and welcoming nature. To the very bright colours surrounding you.

He changed colors, and sometimes they were bright. But the color palette you and your universe was vastly different. It was vibrant, saturated, contrasting between them. It was like someone had turned up the brightness in the world.

Both literally and figuratively.

Your world was simply warmer.

Even well into December with winter just around the corner.

Hobie thought it was adorable how you complained about it being cold when the humidity and warmth was so unlike anything he was used to.

The jungle was still vibrant green.

When you were taking a break from you Spider Duties and escaped the city, you'd hide away in a small house that once belonged to your grandmother, in the middle of the jungle.

Where exactly, he didn't know. He just knew the vast green mountains before him were referred to as La Sierra.

For a full week, the both of you decided to run away from your duties and maybe forget about the mutliverse, the rest of the Spider Society could hold the fort just fine without you two around.

And for a full week, close to the start of winter, you hung out in your grandmother's house.

It was small, and could easily get lost between the tall trees.

It was sunny for the most part, but not hot enough to be bothersome.

Hobie's favourite part was watching you go about your day. Water the plants, take out the dogs, buy groceries for lunch and see you interact with the people in the closest town. Show him off as your partner. Even learning a little bit of Spanish to get him about his day whenever he felt like adventuring on his own.

He wasn't exactly fond of spicy food in the beginning, but he got to appreciate that tangy taste of chili pepper in the food.

While you were and early riser and immediately got started with your morning routine, he wouldn't wake up until midday.

And by the time he was up, you'd make tea for him, and keep him company with a cup of coffee for yourself. Who knew Mexican's liked coffee so much. Especially with cinnamon. café de olla, was called. He still liked tea better, but he'd ocassionally indulge in some café de olla.

Walking around town was also pleasant. Everyone you came across to was so nice and kind. Being a small town, everyone knew each other, and everyone apparently knew and remembered your grandmother.

And soon everyone in town came to know him too.

At night, you'd sit on the small balcony and gaze at the stars visible. They were definitely more than in the city, but it was still not that rich of a stary sky. But the way your eyes shone put the stars to shame.

Drinking either coffee (late at night), tea, if the night was too hot a cold beer. Just talking back and forth, exchanging stories and comparing childhoods.

For that full week, Hobie felt like he was in a dream. A tropical vacation swallowed by the jungle, nice humid weather, cool nights, and friendly people.

But it was spending his free time with you what made it so magical.

After returning back to his usual routine, for a good three months, he'd make so much art inspired on all the landscapes he saw. Suddenly all of his art had green in it. Green, yellow, hot pink and blue.

He kept askign you over and over again when would you two go to another week getaway from the responsibilities, already missing your grandmother's house in La Sierra. Missing the food. The nice weather.

"Fine, let's go. But we're absolutely NOT going during the summer. You're gonna die of a heat stroke on me, and mosquitos will eat you alive" You chuckled.

If Hobie felt the winter was already warm enough, he thought maybe the summer would be, indeed, very hot.

[filtharchives]

omg my first fanfic since middle school but rambling with @sugar-omi sm inspired me to try again

i’m literally gonna throw up !!!!!! also this is my first time writing smut so it's bad sorry if it feels super rushed–it’s because it is! I wrote it before my next lecture 🙈

oh! and happy birthday cove! ♡

edit: took down the first time i posted this bc i rlly did not like it but ended up not editing

summary: cove x reader - cove doesn’t like losing but you drive a hard bargain

tags: NSFW, fem/afab reader, high libido!reader, sub cove, prolly ooc, use of aphrodisiacs, handcuffs, p in v, dick riding in cowgirl position, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill i swear but always wrap it up!) idk what else i’ve only ever posted on wattpad i never used tags like this lol

it had been a few months since you and cove moved into your new apartment together and needless to say, you had gained a lot of sexual experience since then.

though you weren’t at the point of fucking like animals, ever since the two of you first went “all the way”, it had opened a new door in your relationship, and without the fear of getting caught by your families, he’d become much more clingier and practically always had a hand somewhere on your body, which sometimes led to a little more than just heavy petting.

in an effort to be a little more adventurous, you had proposed a fun challenge to cove: you would both take an aphrodisiac chocolate you found at a local sex boutique, and whoever could go the longest without touching themselves or the other would win and, naturally, the winner gets to choose the loser’s punishment.

cove nearly burst into flames at the idea of taking a drug that would make him horny–it was embarrassing enough getting turned on naturally–but it also excited him and his competitive streak, so he agreed, which led you to now.

cove squirmed uncomfortably on one corner of the couch, trying to focus on the nature documentary on the tv while you leaned back against the other corner, watching him with a smug smirk on your lips. you may have felt a little guilty setting up your boyfriend like this–your high libido gave you the heavy advantage of being very horny throughout the day even when you couldn’t act on it, whereas your poor boyfriend had less moments of neediness and was therefore not used to feeling so desperate–but it was too fun watching him sit so uncomfortably, and you knew the pay off would be worth it.

“you having fun there, cove?” you ask teasingly, languidly running a hand through your hair. cove offers a small grumble while shifting his jeans to try and make his hard on more comfortable, before deciding that wasn’t enough and adds,

“n-no…” his response makes your smirk widen.

“you know, there’s no shame in surrender~”

cove pouts at you, torn between his determination to win, and his desire to finally be able to blow a load. his stubbornness is amusing, but you want to get to the good part, so you lean forward on the couch until you have to support yourself on your arms, ensuring cove has a good view of your chest from your low-cut shirt.

“if you give up now, i promise to be nice with your punishment,” you purr, slowly crawling closer to him. even without the drug, cove was obsessed with your chest, but the aphrodisiac running through him made his eyes zero in on it. he gulps loudly and you stop in front of him.

“y-you promise…?” he asks shakily, tearing his eyes away from the tantalizing sight to meet yours. you grin in victory, sitting on your knees and slipping off your top to push him over the edge.

“i promise~”

at your words, cove concedes and practically launches himself forward, his hands landing roughly on your hips and his mouth finds your lips before trailing kisses down your neck. before he can reach your tits, however, you gently push him back by his shoulders, getting wetter at the sight of his disappointed, puppy-like gaze.

“you lose,” you say with a mocking smile. “now you have to be punished.”

cove’s eyes are already watering by the time he’s handcuffed to the bed by cheap plastic from your old halloween costumes, laying naked and flat against the mattress helplessly as you stand in front of him, removing your shorts and underwear at a painfully slow pace. his dick is so hard it hurts, twitching uselessly against his stomach as his gaze never leaves your body.

“please…” he whimpers, his hips rolling once into nothing. “please touch me already…”

“you don’t get to make demands when you lost the game,” you taunt with a smile, but you crawl on top of him anyways, straddling his hips with your hot sex so close to his, he could feel it. he whines your name.

“you promised to be nice…” he says pitifully.

“i did, didn’t i?” you pretend to ponder before lowering your hips and grinding your wet cunt against the underside of his dick, drawing out a long, relieved moan from him. the thick vein on the underside feels so delicious against you, you let out a shaky sigh. your hands rest on the sides of his chest as you roll your hips against him, your forefingers rubbing his perky nipples making him pant.

“stop teasing,” cove begs. “more… i…”

“what? what do you want from me, cove?” you ask coyly, grinding particularly hard and biting back a soft moan as his tip catches your clit.

“i-i… please just- just fuck me already!” he cries.

“y’ lucky i already prepped,” you mutter, lifting yourself off him and reaching one hand down to line him up. cove nearly sobs in relief as you slowly lower yourself down on his length, both your hands on his chest again as you reach the hilt.

“f-fuck…” he gasps softly, feeling your warmth encase him entirely. he nearly sobs again when you lift up your hips until he’s almost entirely out, just for you to slam down on him again, marking the start of a brutal pace he was not prepared for at all.

“w-wait! you- that-” he starts, only to be cut off again and again by his own moans and disoriented thoughts, before he can finally string together a thought and a cry of your name. “too much!”

still, you don’t slow down, bouncing on his dick easily with the help of the springy mattress below you. your hands move to his legs as you lean back, giving cove a clear sight of where your bodies meet and how your combined arousal has left a milky ring on the base of his dick with a few stray drops sitting on his seafoam bush. he doesn’t even have the ability to thrust back up into you, letting you use him like a glorified dildo as tosses his head back on the pillow behind him, only to lean forward again to watch you. his moans match yours and the pace you’ve set, the sound of your ass slapping against his hips echoing in the bedroom and his eyes drifting all over your body, lingering on your face, tits, and cunt.

“o-oh, fuck…!” cove hisses loudly. “h-honey… please, let me touch you…!”

“n… nuh uh,” you grin down at him. “y-you lost, so… you gotta put up with this- oh, fuck-!” the coil in your belly is close to snapping, and you can tell from how he twitches inside you that cove is close as well. you pick up the pace, crying out when his tip hits your cervix. cove calls out your name like a mantra.

“i- ‘m gonna…” cove chokes out through his moans.

“do it,” you pant. “cum in- oh!” your cunt squeezes him in surprise as his wrists break free from the cheap plastic handcuffs and his hands tightly grasp your hips and he plants his feet on the bed to thrust up into you just as he wanted while you lose control.

“f-fuck!” you cry out as you do your best to support yourself on cove’s chest, eyes rolling back from his breakneck pace and his balls slapping your ass. it only takes a few seconds for you both to reach your climaxes and you loudly moan cove’s name as he shakily groans, his cum painting your insides white. you don’t even have a moment to collect yourself before cove rolls the two of you over, still sheathed inside you and not any less hard. he hovers over you with a wolfish grin, some of his sweat dripping onto you.

“your game and punishment weren’t fair, so it’s my turn to pay you back, okay?” he says darkly. “and i like doing it without the condom. we should do it more often.”

oh, you would definitely do this more often

this was not up to my standards but that's okay! warm up round 💪💪💪 we only get better from here baby let’s go

[innxrvision]

So long - pt. 1 𒂭

part 1 of 3 ------------𖦹 tags: james hetfield x reader, fluff, smut, best friends to lovers, bet, 80s james, a little angst if you squint, more tags to come in future parts ♱ a/n: i have no idea of what i'm doing actually. i never wrote anything and english is not my first language so there'll be probably a lot of mistakes, but after reading too many fanfics I simply ran out of content and also the community has been a bit dead for awhile so here's my humble contribuition to the cause (the cause being thirsting over james hetfield). anyway, this was supposed to have only one part but i felt it got too long so i chopped in half, i'll post pt 2 as soon as i can! meanwhile, i would be very happy with any criticisms or suggestions. if you find any language mistakes please please correct me, i'll be very thankful! also, i have no idea of how to work this app out 'cause all i've been doing all my life is liking and reblogging stuff so bear with me please!!

𖦹 part 1 𖦹 part 2 𖦹 part 3

You knew you fucked up by showing up late to their gig, but in your defense, it wasn't your fault that your boss choose this day of all days to get you stuck at work.

"Well, at least I showed up!" you thought to yourself, but the cold look James gave you when he finally spotted you at the crowd wasn't so forgiving.

After the last song, you rushed to the backstage, wanting to say hi to your friends. The place they were playing today was pretty small, but the crowd was buzzing with energy and the entire show was great.

Before even entering the door that led to the small and thrashed dressing room you could hear the excited voices of the four guys. First, it was Kirk who embraced you in a thrilled and sweaty hug, then Lars, and finally Cliff. You chatted briefly with them before finally going towards James, who was pretending to not notice you while fixing something in his guitar.

You could only see his back and the messy and wet blonde hair covering his lowered face. You knew he was mad, of course, he was your best friend for years and a look was all that it took for you to get how bad the situation was, but at the same time, you couldn't understand why be so mad if, in the end, you showed up anyway.

"Hey, don't be mad at me..." You said softly, touching his shoulder to make him recognize your presence.

In response, James just rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, leaning his guitar against the wall.

"You said you would be here on time!" He complained, his expression already revealing that there was nothing you could say to convince him, but your stubbornness wouldn't let it go, of course.

"It's not my fault! I got stuck at work... What did you want me to do? I tried my best, alright?" You wanted to sound a bit more gentle, but being tired after a long shift didn't help your nerves much. You sighed, already slightly annoyed.

James crossed his arms, his gaze falling hard on you as he spoke.

"You make it seem like you don't have time for your best friend."

"Don't be unfair, I always come to your gigs and always hang out with you!" You gestured frustrated. "Sorry that I've got stuck at work today, it's not like I wanted to be late!" It was hard being reasonable when both of you were tired and stressed and you did your best to not raise your voice too much, as it could worsen things even more.

You looked around the room, checking to see if the other boys were paying any attention to your little argument, but thankfully Lars had already left the room and Kirk and Cliff seemed too absorbed in discussing something that you assumed related to the show.

"Maybe if you got the balls to look for a better job instead of working at that cheap dinner you would've showed up on time today!"

Your mouth opened in shock as you heard James' harsh words, it was clear that he was already worked up and your expression instantly turned cold.

"Now you went too far." Your voice carried a mixture of sadness and anger that made James regret his words quicker than he thought he would. "Sorry that my job isn't good enough for you, rockstar, but I can't afford to go around playing music just like you do, I actually need the money." With that you turned your back, not interested in hearing anything from him anymore, and exited the room, not even bothering to say bye to Cliff and Kirk who now looked at each other in confusion. It didn't help that now you also felt embarrassed that they heard your stupid argument.

"Wait! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that!" You could hear James' voice saying from inside the room, his anger now turning to guilt as he realized the impact of his words.

You just kept walking until you reached out outside of the building and stopped by a wall, resting your back against the cold concrete and searching up your pockets for your pack of cigarettes and your lighter.

With the cold breeze of the night, it took a few tries for you to successfully light up your cigarette and when you took the first drag you heard some footsteps approaching. You refused to look toward the sound, just kept doing your own thing and looking down until you saw a pair of dirty white sneakers stop right next to you.

James took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before finally speaking, his raspy voice gentle and sincere.

"I'm sorry about what I said inside, I didn't mean any of it, I was just angry 'cause I really wanted you to be there for me tonight... You're my best friend and I care about you."

"It doesn't seem like you care much." You scoffed in response.

"I know I messed up and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you." You heard him sigh and pause for a moment, probably searching for the right words. "You're not just any friend to me, you're my best friend." He added.

"Then why did you say that?" You asked crossing your arms, the cigarette still dangling between your fingers. "If I'm not good enough for your 'metal band lifestyle' then whatever, just don't go around saying I'm what I do with my life is not worthy." You sighed and took a drag before lowering your voice, your tone slightly more gentle now. "I work hard, y'know? Sorry that I was late once, at least I came!"

He took a deep breath once again and ran his hand through his hair, you took this opportunity to gaze at him for a moment. You knew your anger couldn't last much longer, it has always been like that.

"It's not about my lifestyle and it's not about your job, I was just being a jerk. I got too caught up in my anger and..." He trailed away. "C'mon... I'm really sorry."

You looked away and took another drag, you knew you wouldn't hold a grudge for that.

"Whatever." You muttered. "It was a good show." You added after a moment of silence, it was your peace offer.

Even without looking at him, you could sense his smile opening up, whenever he smiled the whole place would light up.

"Thanks." He said. "Can we just forget about everything that happened earlier and go grab a drink or something? I'll pay." He sounded hopeful again and you knew this was his way of making things right with you.

You nodded and flicked your cigarette off, stepping on it.

"Sure, let's go."

There was a faint smile on your lips and in response to that James smiled even bigger, he put his arm around your shoulder, guiding you towards a nearby bar.

"Great! Let's have some fun just you and me and make up for everything that happened tonight!"

"What about the equipment and the guys?" You ask, suddenly remembering their existence.

"Don't worry, Cliff's gonna get my stuff and bring it over to his place, I told 'em I would probably not come back." He answered, entirely back to the laid-back personality you were used to.

"Right." You hummed in response, just letting him guide you as he started chatting about today's crowd excitedly.

[bluebunnysart]

Fanart of my own fanfiction (Chimera Teto x Android Miku)

Good news! When I woke up and looked at my art again today, I liked it, so here's the uncolored version! I trust you tumblr people, so here you go! You may view. This technically means I've drawn UTAU Teto (here) and SynthV Teto, but I really want to color this and take my time doing so, so here are the lines before it turns into something else hahaha 😂😂😂 Read More for the stuff I wanted to write last night but was too tired to (also the art time lapse)

I showed like two WIPs of different ideas on Twitter but none of them were this LOL (just goes to show how much I wanna draw and see of these two specifically) but the reason I decided to go with this is 'cuz that fanfic I wrote in like one day really got me excited and it made me really want to draw them as I was imagining more stuff about them. Here I'll talk about what I had in mind

I love chimera Teto, especially her majestic wings, and what I drew here is basically inspired by that! Teto's basically the only "living, sentient" thing around Miku so far (I dunno how to approach adding more creatures just yet), which makes Miku extra interested in her. But basically Miku likes Teto's wings and tail too and is very fascinated by them.

I had an idea where Miku is just holding or playing with Teto's tail out of nowhere and complimenting the heck out of her, and that was condensed into this piece. It was too crowded on Miku's side to have Teto's tail there as well, but the reason Teto's embarrassed (tsundere is nice, aint it xD) is 'cuz Miku is indeed praising the heck out of her. Calling her cute and saying how cool her wings are and whatnot.

The dialogue kinda goes like, "Your wings are so cool! And I really like how expressive your tail is! I wonder what I would do with a tail. It's so cute! Actually, now that I think about it, all of you is really cute!!" (Teto, embarrassed: "Stop talking now.") wwww

Miku does have a kinda tail actually! It's the chain on top of her skirt. As an android, I was thinking it works as sort of a battery plug or USB or something. I can show off more of that later (since it's really small here lol) but she can use it to receive electricity and recharge herself, I guess~. (Note to self: make it bigger?)

I haven't shown off much of my art style, but most (normal) characters usually don't have pupils. (See: this Teto, who's a living breathing creature.) As a result, I decided to give Miku pupils (kinda robot-like) to make her seem like more of a robot. She also wears the thing (headphones) over her ears, of course, which I can also use to make her seem more robot-like. There's no green flashing of code in her eyes right now but I might draw that sometime too, after my loads of other ideas...

Teto's wings aren't fragile. They're probably firm, hard, and could even be scaly/rough (up to my own whims or the reader's own preference). Her letting Miku touch her (wings) is probably a huge display of trust/confidence. Teto's wings are strong enough to carry her far distances and even allow her to fly in bad weather, I think. It's up to Teto herself how much energy/desire she has to do things like that though.

This is mentioned in the fic too, but Teto probably folds her wings a lot so they don't get in the way. She's kinda like a bird. I think her silhouette against the sun or moon, with full wingspan, is probably majestic (I'm imagining the Batman symbol for some reason lol). I know some people color Teto's wings as purple, but I specified black in my fic to match her tail. ^^

In order for her wings to breathe, there are probably holes in the back of her outfit to accommodate them, but they're only big enough for the wings (ellipses/ovals probably): she either tears/cuts holes into the shirts she wears for her wings or they already fit her wings so there's no problem. I wonder if Teto made her UTAU outfit herself in this setting. xD (A girl has to pass the time SOMEHOW plus she's probably at least a little bit handy when it comes to clothes and stuff (survival).)

If, while I'm coloring, I need to make adjustments to the seating and lineart and all that, I will, but I figured I'd show off what made me stay up 'til 5 AM last night and then get embarrassed to post 'cuz I thought I wasn't finished yet. I woke up and I liked it, so I'm just gonna put it in this here blog. c:

I don't know how to color, so coloring will be a trip 😂

[blacksorrow-untiltheend]

hi guys I’m in a horrible bad mood and I cried for four hours with Tsukasa plush over a fanfic

And then I looked at him and thought “he’s the only one who can comfort me”

And then I got an idea! So here’s a small little thing I wrote:3

Polyshow thingy thing (also me projecting on tsukasa hi guys) (Tsukasa angst and also comfort)

And there he sat, a boy with blonde, strawberry hair. With tears flowing down, in a corner behind the dear place of happiness. Phoenix wonderland, the wonder stage, these places should make him happy. And they do. They do, they really do. So why, why was the star, Tenma Tsukasa, crying like a child? And even worse, crying when he was supposed to be practicing. Tenma Tsukasa, the world future star, born to make people smile, to shine so bright. He wasn’t doing any of that. All he could think was, ‘ stop crying, stop crying, stop crying, you have work to do, get up and practice, and stop crying. ‘ yet, he couldn’t. No matter how hard, he’d continue, and continue, and continue.“ Tsukasa-kun? “ He heard, with a male peaking behind the curtain. His purple haired director. Tsukasa attempted to get himself to stand up, but he couldn’t. There was nothing, nothing he could do. It was the end of the star, Tenma Tsukasa.

“…eh? Tsukasa-kun?! Are you okay?” Rui asked, with such worry that Tsukasa had never heard before. He didn’t give an answer. “..Emu-kun, Nene-chan, come here. It’s important.” Tsukasa hears Rui say, and he panics. No, he doesn’t want this! He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. His eyes meet Rui’s, and he silently pleads. But it’s too late. Emu and Nene walk backstage, and Rui goes after them. Tsukasa wasn’t very hidden, so the two girls spotted him almost immediately. This was horrible. His troupe, his best friends, and his partners, saw him crying like a child that didn’t want to go home. Humiliating. He looks at them, pupils dilated. his cheeks were stained with tears, and he watched the three as the stared at him. Rui stood straight up, looking in slight shock. Nene was neutral, but worried. And Emu.. Emu had the most unfamiliar expression of all. She wasn’t smiling at all. Instead, she ran over to Tsukasa, looking as if she was going to cry. She hastily sat down on the floor and jumped into hugging Tsukasa. Tsukasa was shocked, his dilated pupils darting from her to the other two. He felt as if he would start crying again, and he did just that. Rui and Nene approached slower, both sharing a silent conversation. They had dealt with this more often with each other. Rui and Nene knelt next to the boy. Rui put his hand on the blonde hair of his boyfriend, stroking his hair and putting their foreheads together. He let out a few “shhs” while Nene patted his back.

A few minutes, and his sobbing faltered. He looked at the three, whom were backing away and sitting on the floor next to him. Rui was the first to speak. “Tsukasa-kun, mind telling us what happened?” he asked, his hand on the blonde’s shoulder. Tsukasa sniffled a little, and took a breath. “…today hasn’t been a good day.” Is all he said. “How so?” Rui asked another question. He looked at Rui, who nodded, and then the other two. The other two nodded, Nene smiled calmly yet slightly upset at him, while Emu had a solemn, sad smile on her face. “It started with my parents. They had gotten mad at Saki, since she had accidentally dropped a plate.. dad was yelling at her, and I saw her crying on the couch. Mum hadn’t done anything, but she hadn’t interfered either, and that’s when I did. It was back and fourth arguing between me and my dad, but it ended when he said I was useless, that I’d never get anywhere in life.. and it hurt, more than it should’ve. Saki and I left really quickly.” He spoke. Rui, Nene, and Emu all had shocked expressions. “What else is there, Tsukasa-kun?” Rui questioned, doubting that was the only reason. Tsukasa sighed and continued.

“It’s pointless. Got a low grade on my test, a few classmates made fun of me for it. That’s it.” The three looked as if they either wanted to hurt someone or that they were shocked at everything. Rui tightened the grip on Tsukasa’s shoulder. “Tsukasa-kun. If you’re ever going through anything, tell us. Stop keeping things from us.” Rui spoke, with Nene and Emu nodding in agreement. “It’s going to be okay, Tsukasa.” Nene spoke, patting his back. Emu hugged Tsukasa once more. “Tsukasa-kun! We care about you a lot, so please talk to us!” Emu said in a pleading tone. Tsukasa nodded. “..okay. I’m sorry, everyone. My crying just served as a burden to you all. “No!” The three said in union. “You can cry if you want, Tsukasa. Sometimes, you just need to. It’s healthy.” Nene said, and for a second Tsukasa didn’t recognize her. He nodded, and smiled back, with cheeks stained with tear drops. He stood up, and took a breath. “Alright. I feel better. Thank you, everyone. I love you guys.” Tsukasa smiled a toothy grin. Rui chuckled, Emu giggled, and Nene smiled. “We love you too!” They said in union, once more. He kind of felt like this was planned.. “Now! We have a show to practice!” Tsukasa said, pointing his finger at the curtain. The three nodded, and the four walk to the curtain, at a sort of peace.

OK HI. This is quite a long post but if you read I love you with my heart <3

This was mostly to make me feel better, so it’s not good at all. I’m sorry that ran a little long..

If you’re ever upset, remember that there are people who love you. You are loved, by me, by your friends, by your family.

Have a good day/evening/night, my stars that shine so brightly in the sky.

[mxa13xx]

Knows Just How | Hobie x Plus-Sized!Reader

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼» - Reader has leg hair! I wrote this because there is not enough fanfics with reader having leg hair. - Very butchered British accent, to the point he doesn't even have an accent because I would like to not embarrass myself, please! - I'm thinking of opening requests! I'll be aiming for Plus-Sized!Readers because I myself am plus sized, and am sick of not seeing enough fanfics like so. 𝓔𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂!

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎ You had leg hair. No matter how much you argue with yourself, you can't seem to shave it. You always brush it off as you are being lazy, but you know it's because you push yourself to be confident in your leg hair. Hobie knows this too, so when he notices you hiding your legs a lot, he takes notice. 

"Love, you okay?" Hobie asks, sitting down beside you on the couch. 

You two are having your typical movie night; the movie this time was Twilight after finding out Hobie has never watched or heard of it. Of course, that was a crime, so binge-watching the movies was the plan. 

"Mhm, of course," you glance at him. 

But a problem arose. All day you faced shame for your leg hair after wearing shorts to work. It typically doesn't get to you; you usually tell them to fuck off, but this day.. messed with you. You were loud, cubby, and had leg hair that crawled to the back of your thighs. Hobie loved that about you, and he was why you never shaved in the first place; he just made you feel so comfortable. 

Hobie stares at you, almost studying your body language. 

"You're lyin'," he huffs; before you can protest, he picks you up and sits you on his thighs, the blanket you used to cover your legs slipping off.

"Hobie!" You squeak, trying to pull away in panic. You have always worried about being too heavy for Hobie; sitting on his thighs only feeds into that fear. 

But Hobie fucking loved your thighs. Often asking, no, begging to sit between your thighs as you massage his scalp. He would always kiss your thighs the longest, taking extra time to leave marks and sweet praises against the extra skin. 

"What's wrong," He murmurs, instantly kissing your soft jaw as his hands hold onto your rolls. 

You sigh, failing to escape his love. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, letting him kiss more of your neck. 

"Just tired.." you whisper, softly rubbing his hands on your stomach. 

"That's not it," Hobie sighs, laying his chin on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. "What's really happenin'?"

You meet his eyes, locking into his worried gaze. You can't argue with that look.. but you also didn't want to rant about how much you hate your fucking thighs, the stupid leg hair that covers them. You shrug. 

Hobie sighs; he doesn't like pushing but wants to make you feel better. His eyes wander your body, appreciating your rolls and the stretch marks that cover them, with your legs and their beautiful hair painting them. You tense at his wandering gaze staring at you; you curl up, trying to hide your body from him. Hobie hums like he's figured out the next clue. 

Suddenly Hobie picks you up again and sits you down as he slides to his knees in front of you. You blush, not expecting the quick movement. 

"Hobie, what are you–"

"Your thighs are beautiful," He holds onto them, planting a small loving kiss on them. 

You tilt your head, confused, as he continues. "I know it's hard for you to see that.." He murmurs against your soft skin; he kisses your thigh again. 

"But it's the truth," Hobie gently lifts your leg over his shoulder, kissing more into your inner thigh. 

You gasp; his movements are so.. loving. You blush, his small kisses getting closer and closer to the edge of your shorts. 

Tears prickle your eyes, the swirling pit in your stomach finally abrupting out of your throat in sobs. As you choke on sobs, you feel Hobie's kisses fill every space on your thighs. He gently rubs your inner thigh, whispering worried reminders to breathe. You cover your face in embarrassment, your sobs not stopping as Hobie shifts to his feet. 

"Baby, breathe.." He picks you up by the waist and sits back down on the couch to focus on you. Hobie sits you on his thighs, facing you as he gently wipes away your tears. 

He cups your cheeks as your sobs finally slow; your nose is now red, and your eyes are puffy. 

"Today was fucking hard.." you choke out with a sad chuckle. 

Hobie nods, understanding your pain. "I know, love.." He kisses your nose before gently rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks. 

"I just felt so uncomfortable in my body.. like my thighs were too big and hairy.." You mumble, sniffling as you stare into his worried eyes. 

Hobie hums, "They aren't.” he takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss on your palm, “Your thighs are perfect.. They’re big and hairy.. Which is perfect,” he eyes stare into yours. Your heart skips a beat, he was being so kind and caring.. Could you fall more in love with this man? 

“I will never stop loving your thighs.” Hobie says, like he’s making a promise, “And I will never stop loving you,” A smile curls on his lips as he kisses your wet cheek. “Thank you Hobie..” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck as he softly rubs circles on your thighs, playing with some of your hair on them. You smile. He knows just how to make you feel so loved. 

[depravitycentral]

Hi, I also gotta say that the uvogin fanfic is amazing I also really enjoyed reading that <3.

It was actually a good plan but why the heck did he even print out chats in the first place and kept them in the drawer under the TV? Like if it were his room ok but in the livingroom? Was it maybe his plan that the reader finds it on their own so he could have a reason to stop the pretend and then the reader would blame themselves?

(The fic is question is Partnership)

Ooh, I hadn't even considered the last part of that! That would've been a really good ending - my stand-by for fics is to make endings leading into shock and then sex or a post-sex haze; I am a creature of habit. (Mostly, I just saw the word count was getting to five number places and was worried no one would want to read something longer.)

But genuinely, you finding the evidence of his obsession was an accident - one Uvogin sincerely, honestly hoped wouldn't happen. And you're obedient, he knows that - even if you have a more rebellious streak in you, he's big. He's scary. He's strong. He told you not to snoop. He was sure enough that he'd be willing to bet his own life that you wouldn't dare disobey him or his rules - he knows your body language well enough from all that stalking to be able to read you like a book, and he knew from the moment that blindfold came off that he had you in the palm of his hand.

But then you did the unexpected. You rebelled. You disobeyed.

You were bad, and while he's initially mad at you, frankly he's more surprised than anything - a little impressed and proud of you, even. It fucks up all his plans, of course, but it's nice to see you growing a backbone, even if it is just against him.

And he did have plans, really - plans to slowly grow on you, to continue getting your favorite foods and 'accidentally' starting a new series or set of movies - and oh? What's this? They're your favorites? What a coincidence!

He was going to slowly ease you into the idea of intimacy; a hand lingering on your shoulder here or there, catching you when you fall (he sent a small burst of aura your way that had you losing your balance, but that's just a trivial detail), scoffing at you and telling you that you're holding that knife all wrong, let me show you how to really cut something. (He'll stand behind you, his chest flush against your back, arms grabbing your own and guiding you through the chopping motion, the extra cologne he'd spritzed on earlier in the day making your nose tingle and your cheeks feel warm.)

(And then, once you're asleep that night, he'll fuck his fist so hard it nearly breaks.)

He had a plan, yes, but he's mature enough to realize that it's all his fault that it didn't pan out (well, maybe a bit your's, too, because you'd decided to grow a pair and break one of his cardinal demands). He'd been stringant with keeping all evidence in check - away and secure so that you wouldn't find it. Maybe, with time, he'd show you all the things he's collected over the months he's been watching you - maybe, but only if the Stockholm Syndrome was in full swing, if you were willingly kissing him, instigating sex or even whispering those three little words with honesty. Maybe he would've, just to show you how much he cared - how much he still cares.

But to answer your question, nonnie, the reason why he has the chats printed out is because he wrote them while tapping into your phone line. Shalnark didn't mind doing his buddy a favor, and getting the bug planted wasn't too difficult. And it would go off at the most random times - when he's out, traveling for Troupe business, he doesn't have a computer or anything on him, and a scrap piece of paper and a pen are his only tools. He records what you're saying because everything that comes out of your mouth feels important, like it's something he needs to remember, like it's something that might give him more insight into who you are - another layer of you, maybe even one that only Uvogin ever gets to see.

And of course, once it's written down, he can't just throw it away. He has to keep them - just in case something you said becomes relevant. Just in case you mention something about him - the large man who passed you on the street today, but you were too busy with your nose buried in your phone to notice. The large man who was at the other end of the aisle in the grocery store as you agonized over which flavor of ice cream to buy with your limited budget.

And as for the placement of where he keeps all these scribbled records of your every phone call and interaction, well, it's really a no brainer. It was the only spot that wasn't already full with something relating to you.

Every cabinet, drawer, closet, shelf, nook, and cranny in his apartment is full of you you you. He's got everything his greedy hands could get ahold of - your underwear, chapstick, button, and bandaid, of course, but there's more. It ranges from things that are less disturbing - normal, even, like a pair of earrings or a hairbrush - to things that are just a little more suspicious. (Like your old toothbrushes - yes, plural - or your haribrush.) Things that could be considered totally understandable (if not a big extreme) and not creepy if you and Uvogin were actually a couple.

And then, of course, there's the more intimate items, the things you had the displeasure of stumbling upon - your panties, for example, and if you were to peruse through the cabinets below the sink in the bathroom you'd find all sorts of menstrual supplies, with your favorite brands, the right products for your flow, even the dinky menstrual cup you'd tried on a whim because a friend recommended it. (Yes, you'd thrown it away because it'd been too messy when you took it out and yes, Uvogin searched through your trash bag just to find it.)

He may come off as this big, imposing, simple, one-track-minded man, but he's not. At least, not only those things. Uvogin is smart - and as most yanderes with brains tend to do, his obsession teeters much more on the side of collecting information about you than you'd expect. He's just honestly curious about you in every way - he's clingy and needy and wants you, so badly that it hurts, and collecting your things was a way to help alleviate some of that ache before he could properly be with you.

So while he didn't want you to find any of his stolen goods, frankly, it was inevitable - any storage space (except the room he houses you in - just because he'd be tempting fate if he asked you not to root through anything in the modest closet or drawer set he's assigned to you) contains evidence and proof that Uvogin didn't just randomly get stuck with you. It was all purposeful, planned, calculated - and you, poor sweet little you, just had the misfortune of finding that out much too early.

Ignorance really is bliss, isn't it?

[kingpreciouswrld]

was thinking about this reading the cara mia fanfic.

one shot when reader (that is quite infatuated with a certain tall principal), gets asked by weems to help with the Rave’N for student inclusion. reader says yes, but also incloses that she won’t be attending because the person she wants to go with is unavailable. larissa asks if the person is taken and reader gives a vague, mumbled answer in response. weems observes reader over a few days and realizes they’re talking about her, so the day of the dance weems shows up at readers door, asking if she could have this dance, or something along those lines. sorry for a long post, i just wanted to see this kind of fic cause i wanna project :D

project all you want, i'm here to support you :3

pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

word count: 1k

a/n: I hope this does your request justice. I wrote the majority of this in between customers at work so it might not be coherent :')

After class you were pulled into Larissa’s office.

You were close with said Principle ever since Weems needed help with watching Wednesday. As the eldest Addams, you needed to watch over your sister and apparently she's been giving Larissa some hard times. You were there to be a moderator between the two, someone to listen to Larissa's rants, and just a supporter really.

Expecting to be met with a question about Wednesday, you beat Larissa to the punch, "Whatever she did, I'll fix it. I don't know what it is but I'll take care of it, don't worry."

The white haired headmistress raised a brow, "Wednesday didn't do anything this time Y/n."

"Oh."

Shaking her head, she motioned toward a small stack of papers on her desk, "I called you in here to see if you could help me with this year's Rave'N. Now I know you could be busy so I decided that you could count this toward your volunteering hours."

You thought about it. Getting volunteering hours by spending time with Larissa? That definitely beat volunteering with Wednesday. It probably won't feel like work at all.

"Sure but I'm not gonna go."

"Why not?" Larissa frowned, "you'll be putting it together, you can bear the fruit of your hard labor."

Shrugging, you looked at everything except blue eyes, "The person I want to go with is unavailable so…" 

"Is this person taken?" This was the first time Larissa has ever heard of you having an interest in someone and it didn't sit right with her for some reason.

The white haired woman loved to spend time with you although she'd never admit it. You brought her a sense of comfort that no one else could, made her feel things that no one else could, not even Gomez. She thought you two were close enough that you'd be comfortable enough to share this news about this…person of yours.

Was there something wrong between the two of you that she didn't know about?

"I don't think so? Ah…I mean she's just…she's just…busy that night and I don't want to take her away from her duties I guess." You answered her as you scratched the back of your head. "But it's totally fine, I'm fine with not going."

Larissa hummed, "Well, I'm sorry you won't be joining us Y/n, I would've loved your company as another pair of eyes to watch everyone." 

'A chaperone,' you thought, 'and this is why I'm not going.'

— — — — — — —

Over the next couple of weeks, Larissa kept a close eye on you.

She'd be more interested in your day, more so than usual, she'd be more lenient towards Wednesday's shenanigans just so you wouldn't stress out. The woman would ask if you were okay or if you needed anything while you studied, she'd bring you snacks as you worked on the Rave'N, she basically mothered you in hopes of making you feel comfortable enough to share more about this mystery person who apparently wouldn't go to the dance with you.

It stumped Larissa on who it could be. You said she would be busy that night, no one Larissa knew would work the night of the Rave'N. Unless– 

No.

No, you wouldn't be smitten with a normie.

Maybe it was the barista in town?

No, you still wouldn't date a normie, you absolutely despised them. But who else would be working the night of the Rave'N?

Well Larissa would be working–

Oh.

Oh.

But that wasn't possible that you would be talking about her though, right?

She's felt the lingering glances, she's seen the very end of them, when you'd look away after she caught you looking at her. But surely you didn't feel the same way that she did…did you?

It was the night of the Rave'N and true to your word, you weren't there. Larissa had been hoping that you were bluffing but when she arrived on the dance floor, she couldn't find you anywhere.

She quickly got Marilyn to watch over the party before she slipped out and headed towards Ophelia hall.

You were oblivious to Larissa's thoughts and actions these past few weeks. Although you did notice the older woman making herself a more prominent figure in your life, you didn't think much of it. She was the headmistress after all.

A part of you hoped Larissa would figure out your feelings for her but another part of you wanted her to forget everything you said about who you wanted to go to the dance with.

You were studying on your bed when there was a frantic knock on your door. Sighing, you got up from the bed, "Look, Bianca, I told you that I didn't want to go to the dance with you–"

You swung the door open only to be surprised by a goddess dressed in a simple yet stunning silver dress. A gloved hand was mid-air as if to knock again.

"Princi– Larissa? Is everything alright?"

Larissa thanked whatever deity that you had opened your door. She wasn't expecting you to be half dressed, which concerned her that you were going to open the door to Bianca in that but she was onto more important matters at hand.

"I might've overheard something where Thornhill could work the crowd for a bit so your mystery woman could spend time with you."

Confused, you shook your head, "I'm sorry?"

"What I meant was…would..would you go to the Rave'N with me Y/n?"

You couldn't believe it. Larissa just asked you to the dance. She finally figured it out. You didn't know whether you should cry or shout for joy.

"B-But I'm a student and you're–"

"–no one has to know. No one will know. But what I know is that I'd love it if you were by my side tonight." The older woman took a step forward and gently caressed your cheek, you leaned into the warmth.

You locked eyes with Larissa and she smiled gently, "Cara Mia…"

"Mon cher…"

[carrymelikeimcute]

Stop Stealing from Authors

As an author, please please PLEASE do not download 'free' ebooks or listen to 'free audiobooks' on YouTube etc.

Books take work to research and write, and author advances are already incredibly low, without us having to PAY THEM BACK to the publisher because the book isn't earning enough. Authors are already earning far far below the minimum wage per hour of work we put in.

Many ebooks are incredibly cheap already and have regular price drops down to 99p/$0.99, and are FREE using a library app.

Audiobooks likewise can be accessed digitally for FREE via the library.

Authors in countries like my own receive a small amount of money when you access our content via the library. Money which means we can keep writing books. Using the library also gives them visitor numbers and incentivises funding, preventing library closures.

Funding piracy makes the already very hard job of writing as a career even harder and endangers library resources.

'Well then maybe you should get a real job' I have a job, and that job is being an author. It is very entitled to tell authors that we need to essentially have a full time job AND still produce content for you to enjoy for free, at a speed/quality which makes writing also a fulltime job.

As a fulltime author I wrote 3 novels last year, each with 4-5 rounds of edits at different stages in the process. I also edited the two books I wrote the previous year during that time. Hundreds of hours of work. And I have since seen piracy websites making money off of that work.

Saying that piracy 'expands the reach of our books' is as insulting as being 'paid in exposure'. If you want something that someone made, you have to pay them for it. It is not doing someone a favour, to steal from them. And let's be real - how many people are you telling about each book you steal? Are you recommending the piracy site to others in the same breath? Are you just rating on goodreads and counting that as 'payment' for what you stole?

If you want to get a free book and 'expand the reach' - sign up to Netgalley and get free books in exchange for posting reviews.

'But then I can't read all the books I want to read' - Why should you get everything you want? Genuine question. I don't have all the make-up I want, or all the decor I want, but I'm not shoving stuff in my pockets because it's not fair that I don't get to have everything my magpie brain desires. You don't have enough time in your life to read every book anyway. You have to choose.

I bet you also have more than one unread book in your possession, right now. Probably a TBR pile. Why do you need another one for free, when you have books to read? And if you don't want to read those books, you can access every book, via the library.

Authors would even prefer that you buy our books second hand, because at least that 1. is good for the environment as it keeps books out of landfill and 2. benefits charity if you purchase for a charity bookshop/ doesn't benefit pirates. And 3. unlike a stolen ebook, you can donate it again and it will be visible on a shop shelf, attracting new readers.

'You should write because you love it, not for money' I do write because I love it, that's why I spent years learning my craft and working to get published. So I could do this as a job. I even write fanfic on the side as a hobby, and that is VERY different to writing publishable novels for my editor - I get to do all the fun stuff with none of the WORK that my writing job requires.

I don't love being told what setting/theme is 'hot right now' and needs to be in my next novel. Or re-reading my book for the 15th time to look for typos, or spending 4-5 hours every morning writing to meet a crunch deadline and the rest of the day brainstorming the new idea which is due in a week, answering emails and editing. It's my job, not a hobby, and it's not all fun, all the time. No one page edits for the LOVE of it.

'If buying isn't owning, then piracy isn't stealing' - Unlike films/tv, books are still available as physical media you can own forever. They're also less likely to vanish from your ereader because they aren't licenced like a tv show.

'I don't want to support a horrible person but I still want the book' - so...you agree that pirating does nothing for the author? Good. Because that 'spreading awareness stuff' we already covered, is bullshit. But if they're so terrible...why do you want to read something that was invented in their brain, and is likely full of their terrible values/dog whistles? Why not find new authors to support instead of hate reading/continuing to absorb content from people you fundamentally dislike?

Lastly, the argument I routinely see is that 'it's just the same as lending a copy to a friend'. It is not. Firstly because you're putting money into the pockets of those who stole our work, via ad-rev on their sites, whereas lending a book to a friend doesn't result in you making money off of someone else's work. But also, lending the book to ONE person is not the same as making it available to EVERYONE. I just filed a copyright takedown on one of my new books which already had 200+ hits. Unless you plan to lend a physical book to 200+ people, you will not do that same amount of damage as piracy.

[dreamsnails]

Hi! Im kinda new to tumblr and asking fanfic requests so please let me know if im doing something wrong! So I have a request for a sal fisher x GN reader (preferably headcanons but if you'd be more comfortable doing a oneshot that's also completely fine!) Where the reader doesn't really have any friends and has pretty extreme social anxiety? Like, they have hard time speaking in front of people they just met and get really fidgety and even sometimes have panic attacks? And they just really want to have friends and they get really mad at themself for not being able to keep or start friendships. Again sorry if I've made a mistake with requesting!

Oh boy, this one hits oddly close to home. I actually wrote (but then scrapped) a whole vent fic about Sal comforting someone (me specifically but I formatted it to be for anyone) who had a really rough day and is now thinking about every little embarrassing thing to ever happen to them but they don't know how to process or vent those emotions by themselves. I might go back and try to finish that and post it later if you're interested in fluff content like that, but for now here are my headcanons for this specific situation. I really hope you like them.

<3

In Public:

He’s always holding your hand. He makes sure to gently rub his thumb over the top of your hand, especially when he notices your warning signs. 

He never ever speaks over you, even if you’re taking a while to say what you mean.

He always invites you to hang out with his friends if he’s going to. If you don’t want to he won’t try to push you.

He will 100% complain about your order at a restaurant for you, but if you’re worried about causing a scene he always orders something you like for himself so you can switch if they mess up your food.

He carries little fidgets like small fidget cubes and magnetic beads in his pocket so you can have something to focus on when you’re overwhelmed or overstimulated. 

He comforts you and praises you quietly and away from people after you interact with receptionists or cashiers or strangers, especially if you feel you had a particularly bad interaction. He understands how much extra energy it takes you to communicate with others.

He understands if you can’t find the energy to do those things, too. He’ll talk for you if you ask him to and he would never criticize you for not being able to speak to someone. He’s proud of you for wanting to try regardless of if you succeed or not. 

He immediately removes you from crowded areas if you happen to have a panic attack in a public space. He’ll comfort you in whichever way you need. He has an arsenal of tools that you both brainstormed together to help you recover, and he’ll let you decide if you want to go home or continue in public after you do. 

He goes to your doctor’s appointments with you for moral support. 

In Private:

He will hold you forever if you will it. 

He will also give you plenty of space if you're overstimulated by too much physical contact.

RESPECTS. YOUR. BOUNDARIES. He NEVER pushes you when you're not comfortable with something-- from him touching you, to you not wanting to go somewhere, to you not feeling comfortable speaking to him at a particular moment. He knows you need patience and compassion and he gives you ALL of it.

He gave you his cellphone number, his dad’s number, his landline number, and Larry’s cellphone number so you can reach him no matter what when you need him.

He lets you borrow his shirts so that you have a part of him to comfort you when he can’t be around and he rotates them so they always smell like him. 

He writes you little notes about how much he loves you and how proud of you he is and hides them around your room when he visits for you to find later.

He’ll cater to your every need if you have an especially hard day at work or school. He’ll come over and build you a blanket fort, get you your favorite drink, and play your favorite games with you until you feel better.

When you become upset with yourself for struggling to talk to people and relate to people, he is always there to remind you about all of the amazing things he loves about you. He also lets you know how much he and his friends enjoy hanging out with you, and that they are your friends no matter what other people think about you.

If a friendship of yours falls out, he’s the first to remind you that you tried your best and that all relationships take two to last. There are people who love and care about you just the way you are, like him, Larry, and Ash (and your family, if you have a good relationship with them). Everything will be okay.

Even if it feels like nobody in the world cares about you, he will, no matter what. 

[rorywritesjunk]

For these foamy green hills are but saltwater desert

Richie, Mohji’s lion, isn’t doing so well. The crew end up at a small island with a dwindling population to seek help and Buggy meets Midori, the mayor who is far more stubborn and trusting with his crew than he can really comprehend.

Rating: PG-13, gonna have smut at some point later though. Warnings: Buggy being obnoxious, of course. I’d call this a fast paced slow burn. It takes the place over the course of the week and days are split into two chapters. There’s also some drama and other pirates. A/N: Full confession. I honestly wrote this because I have been watching the anime and Richie is one of the best characters. Do I know a lot about the anime? No. Is some of this chaotic and characters OOC? Of course! It’s a fanfic. Is it self indulgent? Hell yes. I had fun writing this and wanted to share it. Also, I wrote this more with anime!Buggy in mind since we don’t get to see Richie in the live action.

Title comes from the song “Dryad’s Promise” by Tricky Pixie. this gif is here just because this is Buggy's expression around Midori 90% of the time

Chapter 4

Day 2 pt 2

Buggy returned in the mid-afternoon to find some members of his crew mending one of Midori’s fences. He stood and watched them for a moment, confused by what he was seeing. They were fixing something? It wasn’t normal, they were pirates, they destroyed things, not fixed things! He didn’t see her around so he headed to her house. It wasn’t hard to find her, she was in the kitchen with a big pitcher of iced lemonade. She perked up when he walked in.

“Can you grab that tray of cups?” She asked as she finished stirring the drink. “Some of your guys came to help me with my fence while you were gone, so I wanted to make sure they were thanked.”

Buggy didn’t budge, instead glaring down at her. She looked up from her task and pointed at the tray. “Please?”

“Why do you have them fixing your fence?!” He demanded, pounding his fist on her kitchen table. She jumped at that and the lemonade sloshed around in the pitcher. “We destroy villages, you know, we don’t fix fences for crying out loud!”

“Well… I didn’t ask them to help.” She told him calmly as she once again pointed at the tray for him to grab. “I had already started when they walked up and offered, said I was a nice person to let them stay on the island. They took over the job so I came in here to make them a drink. Now, can you grab the cups and follow me out there? I can’t grab both.”

He grumbled in frustration but did as he was asked, sulking as he followed her back out to the others. They cheered at having a cold drink, thanking Midori as well as thanking their Captain. Once Midori made sure they had their fill, she collected the empty cups and headed back to her kitchen with Buggy following close on her heels. She set the dishes down beside the sink and turned to face him. He had gotten closer than he meant to, only a foot from her, and he took a step back.

“Listen, Buggy, I can see you’re not used to being around someone who isn’t a part of your crew, but stop talking to me like that.” She said as she took a step towards him and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “I know you’re a pirate, you have made that very clear, but there is more to you and your crew than just being pirates you know! You have very skilled men out there fixing my fence and they are doing a better job at it than I would have done! Now please stop talking to me like I’m up to no good, okay?”

She was breathing rather heavily after that, her finger still pressed against his chest as she stared up at him. Buggy grabbed her by her wrist, his touch far gentler than she was expecting. He pulled her closer and she stumbled, putting her other hand on his chest to keep from falling into him. She huffed in annoyance and pulled back from him while he smirked at her. She felt her cheeks burn, but she wasn’t sure if it was the feeling of being close to him, to actually touching him, or because his damn smirk was annoying her,

“Nice to see you get frustrated.” He chuckled as he let go of her wrist finally. “Thought you just were always happy go lucky, Mayor. Glad to see you have other emotions.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I have a lot of emotions, Captain.”

“Yea?” He smirked. “Hopefully I can see the full range before the week is over then.”

~

The five children on the island adored Richie already. The lion allowed them to ride on his back, which stunned Buggy, because he thought only Mohji was allowed to do that. The pirate captain was standing outside, arms crossed as he watched the kids with a frown. Mohji was there to keep an eye on everything, but Richie was having fun. He really was just a big kitten when it came down to it, only being destructive and ferocious when the situation called for it. He was loving the attention.

“Stop frowning, the kids won’t want to come near you.” Midori said as she came up behind him, startling him, though he tried not to show it. She patted him on the shoulder. “Unless you want the kids to be scared of you, then keep frowning.”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, jerking away from her touch. “You know that lion is dangerous, right? He could destroy your village with one command from Mohji.”

“Yea, I know.” Midori replied, voice just a bit tired sounding. “Because you’re pirates, and that’s all pirates do, destroy and plunder.” Buggy glanced at her and she smiled. “Good thing I don’t have much of a village here for you to destroy or any treasure to plunder.”

Buggy looked sulkily back at the lion. He was rolling in the grass now while one of the kids picked flowers, weaving it into a crown. Buggy was going to scream if that crown ended up on Richie, but instead the kid ran over to Midori, holding it up for her. She smiled and knelt down so the kid could crown her.

“Thank you, Oak! It’s beautiful.” She squealed excitedly as Oak made sure it sat on her head just right. Midori looked up at Buggy with a smile. “How does it look, Captain?”

“Um, it’s… fine.” He mumbled, not wanting to mention how the color of the flower petals complemented her eyes, or how the green stems looked lovely against her hair. “Good job, kid.”

Oak beamed. “We’re gonna make more for the feast! The whole crew can wear’em!”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Midori beamed. “I can’t wait for that!”

The kid grinned widely and took off running. Midori bumped her shoulder against Buggy’s gently. “And when these kids say the whole crew, they mean the captain as well. I’ll make sure they use the biggest and best flowers for you.”

Buggy’s cheeks reddened and he reached up to flick one of the flowers of her crown. “What makes you think I’ll wear it?”

“Because even for a scary pirate, I don’t think you can deny five children begging you to wear a flower crown.” Midori chuckled. “It’s impossible.”

~

She was still wearing the crown as she made dinner. Buggy sat back and watched her as he sipped a beer. She was humming that song again, the one she didn’t know the lyrics to, and he listened, wanting to commit it to memory so he could hold it over her head should he ever learn the lyrics before she did. He made a face after he thought that. After this week he wouldn’t see her again. He didn’t need to remember anything about her, this place, anything.

He had been on the island two days and already it felt like a lifetime. Why did he agree to a week? It should have just been a few days. Richie was already better so why did they need to stay? He looked down at his drink and cleared his throat. 

“I think the crew and I will head out tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Midori stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. “What was that?”

He looked up at her and paused. She was drying her hands with her apron, the flower crown still sitting perfectly on her head as it did hours ago. She looked… wonderful. She had this pull towards her that made Buggy realize he wanted to stay those extra few days, even if it was just to annoy her and argue with her. She had a smile on her face as she turned her attention to him.

“I said…” Buggy took another sip. “Uh… the moon should be out tomorrow, and the stars. We should… go look at it. You have some nice viewing spots on this rock you call an island.”

Midori perked up and smiled brightly. “Yea? Do you know the constellations? I’ve struggled to remember which ones are which.” 

“Yea, yea, I know’em.” Buggy grumbled as he set his drink down. “We’ll do it tomorrow, just pack a snack for us.”

“I will!”

~

Buggy laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He egged her on again during dinner and she did the same to him, but it was hard to stay frustrated with her when she wore the flower crown. He saw her put it in her ice box after she cleaned up after dinner. He had finished his second beer before getting up to help her clean. She didn’t protest at all and he went to work washing dishes.

He held his hands up and looked at them. The same hands that maimed and killed people, even his own crew sometimes, washed dishes. Willingly! And he didn’t break a single one either. What was going on? He was a pirate, he needed to be out destroying villages with the Buggy Balls while the crew ransacked them. He needed to be collecting treasure, not taking her out to see the damn stars. 

But there was something simple about being on the island as well. The villagers knew they were all pirates, it was no secret, but they welcomed them in and fed them. The little bar in the village made more berry from the crew than they ever had before. And Richie was already thriving. Just a short time off the boat and he was back to his lively self. Buggy was ready to order the crew back on the ship by tomorrow, but he needed to spend a bit more time with Midori. He wanted to figure her out, rile her up some more before they left. 

And now he was going to venture out into the night with her to look at the damn stars tomorrow night. Why did he offer that? But she was so excited, and there was a weird fluttery feeling in his stomach when he saw her smile after he mentioned it. Maybe he was getting sick from all her cooking already. Maybe it was slow acting food poisoning. 

Or maybe…

He rolled onto his side and covered his face with his pillow as his cheeks burned. No, no. He just met her. She drove him crazy with her stubbornness and insistence that she wouldn’t ever leave the island. He had no feelings for her except annoyance. Sure, she was pretty, and he was starting to enjoy seeing her smile whenever he’d tell her a dumb joke or a funny story, but it wasn’t anything else. It couldn’t be anything else. No one fell in love that fast ever. It wasn’t possible. He wasn’t in love. He was incapable of it, he knew it.

He had to stop getting her to smile so much.