#I thought/think he was the coolest person ever

[catherinnn]

I thought of this at work today and I couldn't stop laughing: Imagine Dustin having an older sister who's back from college. So when they need a sub for Hellfire, he asks her because she's the one that taught him how to play in the first place. As soon as she walks in Eddie's brain short-circuits because "Jesus H. Christ Henderson, why didn't you tell me your sister was my dream girl?!?!? I would've at least brushed my hair!"

Que Dustin not sure whether he should be disgusted because his sister keeps flirting with his DM all night or excited because there is now a very strong possibility Eddie could become his brother-in-law now.

Roll for Initiative eddie munson x henderson!reader warnings: nothing much really, just fluff overall. eddie self-doubts for just a second, no use of y/n, cursing. a/n: thank you so much for requesting! I really hope you like it. reblogs and comments are very very appreciated. 2.2k words masterlist

“So,” Mike starts talking, Dustin takes notice of his sarcastic tone. “Who the fuck do we know that secretly plays D&D and would want to sub for Lucas”

“Um, well…” but before Dustin can get a word out Mike interrupts him.

“I mean, we’re fucked! Eddie’s gonna hate us and kick us out of Hellfire!”

“Dude-“

“No Dustin, I’m serious! I’m gonna kill Lucas and all his stupid new friends”

“Mike! Do you remember what I told you earlier? About my sister?”

“Uh… no?” he confesses.

“Honestly! Do you ever listen to me?!” Dustin claims angrily. “What I told you is that she’s coming back home. And she used to play, dude!”

“Are you serious?” Mike exclaims, unable to believe their luck. He asks “When does she get here?”

--

Dustin's heart pounds with anticipation as he waits at the doorstep. It had been months since he last saw you, and he couldn't wait to catch up.

And as your mom’s car pulls into the driveway, Dustin cannot contain his excitement. He rushes to greet you, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his haste. You step out of the car, a weary smile on your face as you spot your little brother.

"Dustin!" you exclaim, opening your arms for a hug. "You've gotten even taller since I last saw you."

“You think so?” he asks with hope.

“Oh right? He’s turning into a whole handsome tall man already!” your mom butted into the conversation and you both cringe at her choice of words.

“Ugh, I missed you!” you hug him again and he laughs.

Once you’re inside the house, Dustin wastes no time in bombarding you with stories of his D&D campaigns. He told you about the epic battles and the incredible DM the club has. You make a mental note to tease Steve as soon as you see him since he’s no longer Dustin’s coolest older friend.

“That club sounds so fun!”

"Do you think... would you want to join our club as a sub?" he asks eagerly. "We're short one person since Lucas joined the dark side”

You frown in confusion and he explains. “He’s in the football team”

“Really?” you ask surprised.

“Yeah…” he sounds disappointed. “Anyway, would you help us? Please”

“You’re sure they won’t mind?”

“They would be so thankful if you help us beat Eddie’s ass”

“Okay, sure then” you agree laughing.

--

“Come on! We’re gonna be late!” Dustin shouts from the living room waiting impatiently for you.

“I’ve been ready for like ten minutes, you’re the one who’s taking so long” you answer calmly, not knowing what all the fuss is about.

Meanwhile in the drama room in Hawking’s High…

“Alright gentlemen, are we ready to start?” Eddie says as he walks in.

“Umm no, Dustin’s not here yet” Mike stops him.

“Well, where is he?”

“He’s probably arriving any time now”

“Wheeler, we don’t have all day-“ Eddie starts complaining but the door opening abruptly interrupts him. An agitated Dustin walks in and starts apologizing, but Eddie’s not listening to him.

The club leader still frozen mid-sentence, his brain seemingly short-circuiting as he laid eyes on you, standing by the door. He stumbled over his words, his thoughts are silent but screaming at the same time. Suddenly, the room seemed smaller, the air thicker, as if a spell had been cast upon him.

However, you’re still oblivious to the effect you had over him.

“Soo, who’s this?” Gareth finally asks after waiting for Eddie to ask that question, but he was not even moving.

“Oh, this is my sister” Dustin starts introducing you. Eddie’s trance is broken when he hears your name, the prettiest name he’s ever heard. “She’ll sub for Lucas”

“She will?” Eddie asks with a hint of hope in his voice. All of the sudden hoping Lucas won’t be able to join Hellfire ever again.

The rest of the boys are waiting expectantly for Eddie to ask you all types of question until he finds an unsatisfying enough answer and he’ll decide you can’t sub. But he never does. So Gareth starts asking if you even know how to play D&D.

“Sure she does, she was the one who taught me how to play in the first place” your brother steps in.

You tell the boys your level in the game and for some reason they all seem surprised. They start murmuring among each other. But you notice how the boy on the big throne leans over to your brother to whisper something. You play dumb and walk closer to them.

"Jesus H. Christ Henderson, why didn't you tell me your sister was my dream girl? I would've at least brushed my hair!" He whispers-shouts and a smile starts forming on your face.

You’d be lying if you said he hadn’t called your attention. His big puppy eyes, all the rings on his hand. You don’t know why he says that about his hair, you thought it looked really good like that.

At any rate, you take a seat next to your brother, which just so happens to also be next to Eddie. Happy coincidence. And you start playing, Eddie sets the scene. He makes you imagine every single little detail so you feel like you’re actually there. He makes different voices for each character which makes you giggle. He even stands up, or leans over on the table, he talks to every single one of you, not forgetting about anyone. It’s mesmerizing to see him like this.

“I love how passionate you get” you comment and it makes him smile so hard.

He noticed before, every time he would change the tone in his voice to imitate a character, you’d laugh, and now he keeps changing voices just to hear it again.

“Give me the gold! He says. Or I’ll set my hungry wolves free, right this second!” Eddie acts and without failing he’s able to hear your snorts. It distracts him in the best way possible. “You have an adorable laugh” he tells you with a smirk.

This obviously makes you giggle once more, this time with a pink blush decorating your cheeks. “Thanks, it’s just- you’re cute making all the voices”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to blush and smile once more.

Dustin notices this exchange —all of the other boys did— but he can’t decipher how he feels about it. On the one hand, he feels a little jealous and uncomfortable that you two keep flirting. But on the other hand, it would be really cool to have Eddie as his brother in law.

However, the game continues and so does the places Eddie takes you all to in your minds. So much so that at one point you start getting dizzy.

“Wait, where are we again?” you ask.

“In the mountains near the lake” Gareth answers.

“Are we close to the palace?”

“No no, the palace is behind the woods” Mike explains now. They have more of an advantage than you do, they've been playing this campaign for weeks now.

“Wh- Do you have a map?” You finally ask Eddie and he nods passing it to you.

“Here’s the palace” he comes closer and signals on the map, “and here is where you are”

“Oh, okay”

“You know, if you’re still lost I can stick around to guide you” he whispers giving the closeness.

“Well, you’re the bad guy here,” you argue imagining you’re still inside the game. “How do I know you won’t try to kill me?”

“Me?” he gasps acting offended. “I would never!”

“You already killed Jeff!” you accuse him.

“Yeah, but he’s not half as pretty as you are. I’d miss you too much” he makes sure he’s whispering very close to you now, just because if Jeff heard him he’d start acting offended. Just because of that… no other reason.

“Can we keep playing now? My mom will be here in like ten minutes to pick me up” Mike complains.

Those ten minutes fly by. Before you even realize it, Mike’s mom is honking in her car to hurry him up. And so you finish for the day, starting to gather all your things.

“You know, you owe me a pencil” you tell Eddie.

“Oh really? Why’s that?” he asks playfully.

“I only borrowed it to you! I did not gift it!”

“So you’re calling me a thief? First a killer and now a thief? Glad to know you think so badly of little old me”

“I didn't just called you that!” you say in you defence and he makes confused face, signalling you to continue talking. “I also said you’re cute. You’re a really cute thief and killer”

He starts laughing. “Are you always this charming, or is it just when I'm around?"

“I could ask you the same thing”

“Oh only with you, sweetheart” he promises.

“Me too” you admit a little shyly.

“Yeah?-” he tries to keep flirting but Dustin cuts him off.

“Are you ready? Let’s go”

“Wow, since when are you so eager to leave hellfire?” Eddie notices.

“No reason” he lies, he’s still not sure if all this flirting between you two would be something good or not.

“I think he’s a little jealous his sister is taking all of Eddie’s attention” Gareth teases him.

“No, I’m not!”

“Aw Dusty bun!” Eddie joins in the teasing.

“I’m not jealous! Ask her out for all I care!” he says but regrets it as soon as it left his mouth.

“Really?” Eddie checks in but Dustin is a very proud person, he’s not one to bend. So he nods encouraging his friend.

Good thing you know him like the palm of your hand.

“Let’s go dingus, mom’s probably waiting for us”

Eddie feels this as punch right on his chest. Did he read too much into this? Were you not actually interested? Was it just some playful flirting?

As you walk out the school and into the parking lot. You open the car so your brother can get in but tell him to wait a second, and you walk over to Eddie who was about to get in his van.

“Wait! Thief!” you call him and he turns around. “I think you should, you know… ask me out”

He feels the happiness creeping back into his body. “Yeah? I should?” his playful tone back in his voice. “Would you want to go out with a thief and a murderer?”

“If he’s as cute as you are, then I’d think about it” you make him laugh again.

“How about tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up at eight” he proposes.

“I’ll be ready”

“Good”

“Yeah, good” you walk closer to him. “See you tomorrow then” and before leaving, you give him a kiss on his cheek. Hiding your need to kiss him more after seeing his flushed face. You’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow.

Dustin sees you getting in the car with the biggest smile on your face. “Did you ask him out?”

“Um, yeah… listen-“

“It’s fine, really”

“No, listen. I know that maybe it’s a little uncomfortable to think of one of your best friends going out with me. But I promise I would never do anything to hurt him and make it weird between you two-“

“I know that, and I know he wouldn’t do that either” he interrupts you. “I’m just- I’m worried that I won’t be a priority to you or to him anymore”

“Dustin, are you kidding? You could not be more wrong about that!” you argue. “Imagine this date goes well, we’ll start hanging out at home and watch movies with you, we could go out to eat all together, go to the cinema, anything! You name it!”

And the more he thinks about it that way, the more he loves that idea.

So the next day, he helps you choose your outfit, he tells you which hairstyle will look better and then hurries you up when it’s 7:50 pm and you’re still putting mascara on.

“You look fine already! Amazing even! Grab your jacket cause he’ll be here any minute now!” and as soon as he says that, he recognizes that car outside with the loud metal music, seconds later he hears the door knocking.

“I’ll get it, mom!” he yells so his mother won’t embarrass you.

“No, you won’t. I will” you stop him before he can open the door. “Go back to your comic-book. I’ll be back in a few hours”

And he waits until you get back. 

When you finally do, he’s on the couch watching TV but mutes it as soon as he hears you.

“Hey” he notices the big smile on your face is on again. He also notices your lips are a little puffy and he cringes at that thought.  

“You can go to sleep happily now, the date went amazing” you explain. “God, I think I’m love with him!” you comment as you go up to your room.

“Already?” he judges a little.

But as you promised, the three of you hang out together most of the time. And as long as he looks away when you two kiss or ignores the fact that Eddie’s spending the night in your room after you all catch a movie and order some pizza. He’s really happy that you two found each other.

[thechekhov]

Hey Chekhov! How do you start converting an AU idea from character sheets and mini comics into a plot outline for a full, continuous comic? Especially if the series you're basing it on isn't complete?

I've been following your white diamond Steven comics for years, and frankly, I love how it builds and continues the scaffolding canon laid to be something that is thematically still the same but also very unique. And I never thought I'll ever say this, but now I'm working on a canon-divergent AU with someone that's I think aiming to do something similar(continue the themes of canon but different). So I'll just like some advice, I suppose!

You might've answered something like this before, honestly, but I tried to dig a little and couldn't really find it.

Thanks, if you do answer this! I just want take the opportunity as well to say also that your comic and blog accompanied me through parts of my late teens, and I'm very grateful for you being a stabilizing influence during that time.

Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that, and I appreciate you respecting me enough to ask for advice.

As for your question...

Well, to be frank, I don't START with character sheets and mini-comics. In fact, for WD!AU, I didn't have any character sheets until I started season 2.

Think of your story as an aquarium. Your characters are fish.

Yes, they're important, but having a whole bunch of fish without any substrate, tanks, feed and WATER..... will not really make for a memorable aquarium experience.

The reality is that all stories should start with an end.

That's my personal approach, anyway.

What I mean is - you need to know the general idea for your story before you begin to write or plan it.

Let's try this:

1.Tell me about your story in THREE sentences!

Just three. Not long ones, just regular ones.

For my AU, @ask-whitepearl-and-steven, it would be:

"A young orphan runs away from home with a mysterious lady who seems more cryptid than human. He realizes that he's not human either - he used to be the ruler of an alien planet! He and the other aliens he meets decide to (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (REDACTED) and he (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (READACTED) (READ ANDCTED) (READ AND FIND OUT)."

YOU should know how YOUR story ends too! Even vaguely.

It helps if you know at what point you plan to lay down the pencil. Because if you DO know, you are always going to know which direction to walk in, even if the end is so far away it's beyond your line of sight.

It's true that when I began WDAU, I didn't have much information about White Diamond and white Pearl, because they had literally ONLY been introduced. I had to guess a lot of the details (like WP being Pink's originally) and what White would be capable of. And thankfully, my original intent for the story's end fit pretty well with what was later revealed!

But don't forget - you could also just fuck around with stuff! It's your story, after all.

And don't forget... to also look back!

2.Tell me WHY the story is happening in the first place.

There's a reason that the beginning of your story happens when it does. If there is no reason to start somewhere, then find a different place to start.

You should be able to tell me "We're picking up the story here because something significant has happened... and that significant thing happened BECAUSE...."

That 'because' is your main background information that should be revealed slowly throughout the story. In WDAU's case, we only have a few pieces of the puzzle. We know Greg's side. He know Earl's side. But there are still little bits and pieces missing! And they're all important for finding out WHY Steven ended up an orphan and WHY he is being followed by White Pearl (Earl) at the very start of the comic!

3.Tell me what the coolest and most interesting things to happen would be....and then write them!

I think this may be something that's rarely said out loud, but I will speak on the behalf of the people...

We should write the scenes we want to read. If you don't want to read the scene you're writing, then DON'T write it!

If you feel like you "have to" do a page and a half of 'lore' because you think it's traditional to have that 'explanation' about the location of your story, or the history of the species or whatever, you're simply wrong. There are other ways to reveal information aside from just forced paragraphs upon paragraphs of information that would make an SAT Reading Section sweat.

Instead, I recommend that you find the most exciting or hilarious way for the characters to discover the most important bits of info. Find a dramatic twist. Shove it into the narrative. Then, figure out what needs to happen to get there.

Ultimately, though, remember this: When you're taking advice from me or from others, don't forget to take advice from yourself, too! It's your story, after all. You know it best, and only YOU can figure out how to get it written.

I hope that helps at least a little bit! Writing it never easy, but it should still be enjoyable!

[sendinthehuskies]

.

[lorephobic]

have i talked before about how crazy it drives me that in old bdubs videos he would super abashedly talk about his love for making things pretty? because. it drives me crazy.

at the beginning of mc4 when everyone was clearing out spawn so it was a lifeless flat plot of land to build on and bdubs took it personally and added grass and foliage once everything was built to make the whole landscape more lively and cohesive. and how hed get made fun of for thinking about little shit like that.

also when he got asked what hed be doing if he wasnt doing mc and he mentioned music (i think) and basically was super embarrassed to be like “i know its not very manly, but im super into artsy fartsy stuff”. as if that is a bad thing.

anyway im getting so emo thinking about how in hermitcraft, everyone knows and admires bdubs skill as a builder and its not ever something thats made fun of anymore. thinking about how bdubs never talks down about his own abilities anymore and instead of feeling weird about being a dude whose into artsy fartsy stuff, hes really embraced his career as a creator of beautiful things.

[mikcschmidt]

I actually have . Much to say abt the monty erasure but I fear I maybe just autistic and overreacting n he will appear in a dlc or something I just love monty so much n him being cut out of that gingerbread cookie ruin art was my last straw ((slash jay

[grab-the-bananaguns]

can’t wait to go see my grandma and bob. Can’t wait it’s been super long since I’ve seen my grandma and bob

can’t wait to untangle bob’s accent again cause it’s been long

gonna help with Boxing Day lunch, if I’m allowed to

Might sit in the freezer if it gets too hot cause it gets real humid in summer up were my grandma and bob live

[sm-baby]

Dissection/Theory Analysis of Able:

So we all know about how Caine constantly feels undermined by his little brother's overachieving, but how does Able feel about it? I think the things that he does aren't ill-intended - he's instead trying to keep up with the great achievements of his older brother(how Caine knows multiple languages and has many accolades) and in his admiration of his brother's feats incidentally surpasses them from all the effort he puts into each act. Each pursuit he bests Caine in is just an attempt to better understand his brother by becoming a master in the things Caine likes.

Able is inherently people-pleasing, and that initial urge to perform exceptionally and be praised for it(starting with Caine and their parents) has expanded so much that the need to be the "good brother" is something that has fully taken over his identity - causing his gentleman act and his superior skill in everything Caine does. It is no longer just having the right cards to play at the right time to impress others, he must always be on top and visibly be doing so(aka why his face is the four aces in a suit of cards).

But, he's become so blinded by the need to excel in everything he does that he's gone into complete tunnel vision with his "perfect" facade and feels that his brother is the closest thing he has to a real connection with someone without having to be "the best". And even then, with his own brother, he's not comfortable enough to completely let his guard down and be a person without focusing on pleasing everyone around him

This is a long ask sorry haha

I love my man Able and I have so many theories about how he's handling all the pressure(I'm down bad for him AND want to psychoanalyze him since you gave us such juicy material in the Freakshow fic(which I'd guess is at least partially true to the direction you're heading with him in the carnival and normal aus)). He's my poor little meow meow(even tho he seems mostly fine in all the art we've seen of him) :)

Freakshow Au by: @hootbon

This made me so incredibly happy i couldn't help but doodle him over and over,,

I love psycho-analysis of my characters,, gonna read this over and over.. man you put my ideas for him into WORDS and that's the coolest thing ever.. i never thought Able would be described as "people pleasing" but MAN.. YOU ARE ABSOLUTLY CORRECT... GOD DAM...

Also aboslutely estatic that you took his psycho-analysis from the chosen one fic.. yesss.. i am very happy with Able and Caine's relationship and I'm especially happy with freakshow able's writing in both the fic and just in general. thank you for this,, made my night!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 2

You listen to the story about those woods. Turns out, real life is way, way nastier than any of those stories. Don't lose your head.

TW for the chapter: Blood, gore, dead bodies, slut shaming(usage of outdated horror tropes), knife play, blood play, mentions of STDs

— Do you know what animal is this? 

The body of a small creature – rodent, probably, you don’t think there could be any other animals around – was lying on the road near the place you decided to stay for the night. The “Coolest fucking thing in the world that is also just a few hours from here” was still a few hours from here because it was fucking dark and you already left your car on the sidewalk, hoping no one would steal it because honestly, why would anyone need this pile of burning crap. 

— According to the “Basic Bestiary of Austrian Animals” it might be an extremely rare Austrian Marmont.

You fucking hated Max. Mostly because his form of being different was “being an intelligent asshole” and also because he would never forget to rub the fact you were behind him in the grades into your face. 

— Waaaaaaait, a mamont? But it’s small! You have to give Karen – blonde, tan, tall, straight C everywhere except for her chest (then it would be D everywhere) – credit. As adorably silly as she was, she was still the only person you could have a meaningful conversation with. Except for the times when she was fucking your boyfriends. Or when she forgot that you don’t have a boyfriend so he doesn’t need to fuck random people just to spite you.

— Perhaps, if we are extremely lucky, a European edible dormouse, also known as…

— Fuuuuuck, people eat this thing? Yuck! Austria is like, literally the worst country EVER!

You feel like every second of this conversation, even though you are just listening to it, is going to take 10 years from your life span. You never knew why the two got together – maybe because Max loved fucking someone dumber than he is, and Gretchen loved placing the responsibility for her actions on her beloved sociopathic boyfriend. 

You wanted to say that this was literally a fucking squirrel, but you know better. Not like anyone is going to listen anyway. 

You get to the supposed location a few hours – already deep in the night, everything that you hate about forests – unkept environment, horrible living conditions, mosquitos, and occasionally wild animals are making you squirm each time your butt switches the place and you involuntarily sit on the cold, damp ground. You lick your lips, trying to adjust in the position in front of the fire. Fire that you probably shouldn’t be making in the middle of the private territory, but Chad said the place belongs to some weird hillbillies who wouldn’t care about a bunch of college grads having fun. 

You just finished the last of your coke – mixed with cheap whiskey and rum you got back at home, you feel just buzzy and fuzzy and relaxed enough to at least try to engage with people around you. Just didn’t want to make Jenny embarrassed – she was the one to vouch for you, even though you didn’t want to go camping with them. 

— I heard there is something happening in these woods. 

Everyone around you groans and you comply, groaning too. Chad has the worst storytelling voice and even Marty – the resident stoner of the group – is visibly unhappy about having to listen to his dumb jokes. Brace yourself for at least twenty minutes of dumb story with a cheap attempt to scare you. 

— You talk like those locals. What can be here except for drunkards? 

— Very fucking funny, Marty, I hope you laugh at people’s death too. 

Everyone groans again. 

— Shut up and let me finish! So, there is something hiding in those woods…legends…

— What legends? This place was built like 20 years ago. 

— Shut the fuck up, Max! It’s the legends before the town even was built. In those very forests…

— Forests? I thought it was like, just a suburban area. 

— It’s wild Austrian woods, why I would put you to adventure in the fucking suburbs? 

— You’re a suburb baby. 

— Shut it! God, I hate you guys. Alright, so…these woods are populated with…creatures. 

— Ooooh, like the mammoth we saw! 

— Karen, seriously, what the fuck? These woods are filled with motherfucking human-eating killers, not just some animals! 

— Then why do you say “creatures”? — Because it makes for a good fucking story! God, everyone, this is why none of you are studying creative writing! 

— Only your parents have money to pay for it. 

— This is why you all are fucking losers. Alright…god, I hate you. People went missing in these woods. Mostly tourists, never the local population – this is why police don’t care about it. Bodies were found, half-eaten, rotting under that very tree! 

— Which tree? There are like 10 of them just here. 

— More like 100. 

— Under every fucking tree! — That’s a lot of bodies. 

Chad groans, visibly aggressive. You just tilt your head to the side, only talking to him once before taking the last sip of your Coke and standing from your place. You wanted to take a chance to see those woods before you’d be going even deeper the next night – Chad was planning quite an adventure in the wilderness, to your dismay, and you wanted to have a chance to see the cool part of nature before you would grow tired of it. 

To your surprise, Karen was nowhere to be seen. Knowing the girl, she is far too innocent and dumb to be here – probably ran away to not listen to scary stories or got lost while trying to find a good place to pee. You sigh, feeling that it is your responsibility to pick her up – she is Marty’s girlfriend, but he is too stoned out to notice her disappearance yet. 

You stumble on your foot – alcohol makes you dizzy, makes you relaxed and smiley. You don’t even care that no one came to ask what the fuck you are doing – as far as you aware, they all can go and fuck themselves while you have a lot more fun things to do. Like searching for a drunk girl in the forest in the middle of the night…yeah, you really should work on your definition of fun. 

You already a good few minutes into the forest. Nothing but trees, not even a squirrel or a wolf pocking around to feast on yummy bodies. Not like you wanted to see a wolf, of course, but meeting with the wild life could be fun. You’d like to see a bear, for example. 

(And you will – just a bit later) 

— Karen? Karen, are you alright? You decide to scream for her once you are far enough from your friends that they won’t question why you are so concerned for her. Poor girl was obviously scared and you didn’t want to embarrass her even further, so you stroll through the woods, an empty bottle of coke in your hand – not sure why you didn’t threw it away. Littering isn’t nice, after all. 

— Karen? You’re scaring everyone, come out! 

You scream some more – she is probably lost, deep enough that she can’t even hear you. You try not to panic, try to be the reasonable friend – it’s usually Jenny’s task but here you are, trying to be the cool one of your friend group. You yell for Karen some more, listening closely to every little sound that could be easily taken as her whimper or cry for help. 

Nothing. 

Just how far can a scared drunk girl go? Probably not further away than you – you’re already starting to get tired and you knew that Sidhey got far drunker than you are. Which means she could lay here, somewhere, passed from the exhaustion, freezing, with forest animals feasting on her…no, no, you can’t think like that. She is fine, she has to be, or you are going to get into so much trouble with the police and her parents. You never told any of your families about the trip, so you wouldn’t want to get in trouble what ould require their assistance. 

You take a step into deeper part of the forest – and you think you saw a glimpse of…something. Metal, probably, might be her phone or that atrociour hair dye she is using to stop everyone from calling her a mouse. You also think you could hear a sound of someone breathing – heavily, gruffly, definitely a male, but you don’t really know how. You squint, trying to see through the trees. 

You see Karen. 

— Karen? God, you scared everyone…well, me. Where the fuck have you been? 

You smile and wave at her, your drunken state isn’t allowing you to see that, for some weird reason, she isn’t waving back. Or moving, so to speak. She stared at you with that terrified expression of hers and you tilt your head to the side, not udneratanding why is she like that. Something happened between her and others? 

You take another step back and Karen falls. 

Well…her head falls, anyway. 

There are a lot of feelings right now. Panic, panic, panic, a little bit of panic and, oh, who could have guessed, another riel of panic which makes you freak the fuck out and sprint – towards her. Maybe she will be alive if you could put her head back on her neck really-really fast? 

— Is it too late to convince you this is all a dream? 

The voice. 

You don’t recognize it – it’s distorted and quiet under the mask and you don’t know anyone int his fucking place anyways. The voice is weirdly happy, weirdly laughing and you want to vomit from how easy-going it sounds. Like the corpse of your beheaded friend is nothing, like it’s a fun pun, like…

You laungh forward, trying to, maybe, get revenge on your not-really-a-friend. Guy lets go of Karen’s body, allowing it to fall down, her head rolling to the nearest creek and tumbling into the water like a sports ball. You can’t even sob – the situation feels too unreal, too shocking, you are still very much drunk and when the guy simply wraps his hands around your waist, not allowing you to move even an inch, you fall limp in his hold. 

You sob. 

His hand goes to grasp your face in a tight embrace, making you gag from the smell of blood splattered all across his hand. You hear chuckle. 

— Didn’t want you to see that first. Wanted to play hero, yes? 

You sob, you tremble, you can barely master a few words out of your mouth. You want to scream, but it’s like all the air just decided to disappear from your lungs. So, you cry instead. How brave of you, Karen would be so proud of her friend not even trying to avenge her death. 

— F…fuck…you. 

You master with all you strength. Guy is laughing again – his other hand goes to squeeze your waist even more, pushing you against a tree. He wears a full mask with some red drawings on it – a satanic cult, really? You thought about serial killer, maybe, but definetly not about crazy cult maniacs running around. The more you know. 

— Oh, kitten, I’d love to fuck myself. But you’re here for this, no? 

He called you kitten – you squirm in his grasp, not wanting to give him the easy way to kill you. Something pokes you to the side – it’s a knife. Large, sharp, military-issued, you saw it in movie and action TV shows – and now the bloody razor almost grazing over your skin, through the thing fabric of your open jacter and a simple T-shirt. 

— Wh…who are you? 

Stpuid question, really. 

— Why does everyone wants to ask who we are all the time? Would you die happier knowing my name? Would it help you escape knowing how many beauty marks I have?

It would certainly help the police if you were to survive the encounter. Even though you are certainly going to die right next to Karen over there. 

He pushes a knife towards your side, the blade cutting through fabric easily, You brace yourself for being gutted alive. 

— I don’t like stupid questions. Ask something wrong and I will see if you are as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside. 

In a normal situation, you would punch him for such a corny joke. But you’re too drunk for this, but you’re too exhausted for this, but you just want to curl away in some nice place and fucking die, but not because he was the one to kill you. You certainly do not want to give him the satisfaction of being the one for you. 

So, you feel your cheeks heating up with the faintest of blushes. 

— What are you going to do with me?

He pushes the knife deeper, sharp edge cutting the thin line into your side. You sob immediately, tears filling your eyes as you almost feel blood – not a lot of it, just a tiny sharp streak – fill your shirt. You want to vomit, hate pain, and everything that is related to it. Thinking that the knife is dirty already and he would probably infect you with whatever one of the 13 STDs Karen has if he were to proceed. He stops right before the blade can penetrate your skin. 

— I’m a serial killer. What do you think I will do with you? 

You shake your head, trying to search for the question that won’t make him plunge a knife into your body. 

— W…what is your favorite color? 

Good job. Amazing job. Let’s hope you don’t like your liver all that much because he is definitely going to cut it out and eat it. 

— Red. I like you. 

Suddenly, you are being pushed to your knees. Suddenly, he is standing right in front of you – he is tall, of course, bulky and big, and he seems even bigger from this angle. Your face is pressed against his crotch and you can feel the dread slowly filling up your weins. Is he going to…

He presses a knife against your lips – you part it obediently, nervously, you feel your face twitching with disgust as your mouth immediately fills with the metallic taste of Karen’s blood. You really need to vomit right fucking now, but he is petting your head with his other hand like someone would do to a dog or a cat, and you sob. Too scared to do anything and here you thought you would finally stop letting people walk all over you. You thought it would start a journey of self-actualization and finding your own priorities, but…

He presses the knife a bit deeper. 

— Someone here has manners. Your friend here was trying to fuck me until she saw a knife. 

Sounds like Karen. You still remember her fucked-out face when she happily stumbled out of your room, with your boyfriend that you thought was never into cheerleaders. She had her urges and it was normal until she started to get off with those urges on everyone who liked you, or who you liked – and with such an innocent smile that no one was ever mad at her. 

He presses the knife against your upper jaw, laying it flat on your tongue – you sob, trying not to shake your head too much as he wipes away your tears and pushes your throat even deeper on the blade. You don’t know how it still hasn’t penetrated you yet. 

— Squealed like a fucking pig, not even fun anymore. I assume she was the whore of your group? 

You shook your shoulders, not wanting to give him any answers. He laughs, pressing the blade down and slightly turning it to the side. You feel the string of saliva running from your open mouth – he wipes it with his finger, leaving blood stains on your face. 

— Clean the knife for me, okay? I might leave you live if you would be good for us. You launch onto the opportunity to save your life so quickly, that you don’t even register the word “us” slipping from his tongue. 

You suck the knife obediently, carefully holding your tongue from the sharp edge so you won’t cut yourself, trying so desperately not to hurt yourself on the blade, that it’s almost adorable, He looks at you, the way you even fucking hollow your cheeks to clean it more efficiently, like you were sucking a cock and, with every passing second, he doesn’t really feel like killing you anymore. 

He feels like keeping you bound to him – maybe cutting your ankles so you would never run away from them, maybe tying you up to the body of your friend and holstering you both to the house, making you watch him gut Karen so you’d know not to run away from them. 

He pets your head like you were a cat – and, god, he always adored cats. 

You hear the noises from the side – your gaze darts to the nearest bushes as the guy waves his hand to someone gigantic sitting down at your side. Two pair of hands are now petting your head like you were a fucking animal – and you’re still sucking on his knife, feeling the pressure on your lips. You want to die, but there is no choice but to keep living. 

— Scheisse, what do you have here? 

A hand goes to cup your face and turns you to the side, to meet the giant, bulky figure fully wrapped in camo gear. His face is concealed with some sort of hood, which makes you shake even more. They both look like soldiers – or soldier-cultist-butchers from a horror movie. But, then again, you are in the fucking horror movie, since the big guy has Karen’s head in his hand, holding her by the hair. You sob even more. 

— Stumbled across me as I was gutting the slut. 

— Is she a smart one then? 

The guy with the knife laughs, yanking the blade from your mouth. You want to close it immediately, but the second guy pushes his finger between your lips, keeping them apart – and you are too scared to even try to bite him. Instead, you sit here, obediently, feeling the alcohol in your system working its magic. Again. Making you drowsy and relaxed, panic drained so much energy from your body, that you genuinely feel horrible. 

— No, wouldn’t say so. Obedient, more like. 

— Not a cool one either. Are you a virgin, Schatz? 

You want to lie, just so you won’t feel so fucking embarrassed because of it – but something in the brutality of what they did to Karen made you reconsider. You just shake your shoulders, not wanting to give a definitive answer. 

— Cute. Been some time since we saw a cute one like this. 

Your sobbing intensifies and the big guy suddenly yanks you on your feet. You immediately feel ill, pressing your head against the tree and emptying your insides – mostly because of the panic and partly because of the amount of alcohol you drank. Their touches are surprisingly soft on your skin, gently removing any stray hairs from your face and holding a firm hand on your back, rubbing the blood and grim into your jacket. 

You stand like this for a few minutes, choking on your own tears, vomit, and blood. They coo at you, gentle hands on your body guiding you towards them just so the second guy – a smaller one, relatively of course – could get a hand in your hair and yank it back. Hard. 

— Calm the fuck down. 

— You’re scaring her, Tigeren. 

— Aren’t we here for this? 

— Thought you liked this one. 

— I do. But…

— But? 

— Not fun to take her just now. She can help stir her friends a little. Make them run a little. 

They fucking killed Karen and they want to…let you go? They made you clean their knives, stand on your knees in front of them, and then gently helped you empty your insides – just to let you go when you could run into the nearest policeman and destroy their whole little game? Are they dumb or overly confident? 

— She could run. I would rather keep her with us. 

— They won’t get out of these forests without phones. And their car is already…shit. Spoilers. 

— Alright. But I would be the first to take her next time. 

— She won’t be any good after you, Ko. 

— Our Kleine Hase has more than one hole, ja? 

This is it. 

You take the opportunity – they are distracted by their little conversation, so you duck under the hand of the bigger man and run in the close direction to where the group is sitting. You are covered in blood, and dirt, you shake like crazy and you can barely even run straight without getting right into the various trees, but you don’t care. You aren’t strong enough to sit here and listen to their conversation – not when the self-preservation makes you forget about Karen. Not when that feeling in your chest can only be described as “She got what she asked for” – because she was a bitch, but not nearly enough to deserve being beheaded by two psychos. 

They laugh as they watch you run. Horangi smiles, nudging Konig to the side – you’re not a fighter, but still interesting enough. Adorable and obedient, just vile enough to suck on the same knife that killed your friend – interesting mix, to say the least. Hongjin always wanted a cat, but never got the time on the various deployments – and you behave like a perfect mix of a kitten and bunny. 

Konig tilts his head to the side, watching you, this pathetic little thing, run like the devil was after you. He was, of course. and he came in double, but it was still funny, how a city girl like you seriously thought you would be able to get away if they weren’t allowing you to. You’re cute, for a tourist, and he wants to hunt you some more – perfect foreplay before destroying you with either his cock or his knife. 

One down – and both of them couldn’t wait to finally get to you. 

[perrigoaway]

Part 2 to a comic I made a little over a month ago! I was going to make it for white day, but I was a bit late TT see the first part here

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more thoughts beneath the cut, as always!

Hi! so as I said before, im a little late for when I wanted to post this. I realized it was white day a few days ago and thought it would be fun to make a little comic with Apollo's attempt at revenge! I started it ON white day, then I realized there was NO way I was getting it out then whoops! Here it is now >:)

I worked on this and it was actually driving me nuts, I continuously thought "does this comic even make sense at this point?" hopefully it does TT

I do want to say though, I went into this thinking that no matter how I made things, I wanted it to MOSTLY backfire on Apollo TT SORRY APOLLO LOVE YOU TT I just think he would have really odd ideas on how to get back at someone. Like what kind of person steals the shirts out of your closet for revenge? Him, I guess. Or me since I was the one who thought up the idea LMAO. ALSO I think that Klapollo as a ship in general is interesting because, no matter how someone writes them, inherently, they're BOTH just losers. Yet, they both want to be the coolest person ever and sometimes (most of the time) it doesn't work out how they want, especially with Apollo. He wants to be cool so bad but says stuff like "um, hiya..!" He's my favorite little guy, just like me fr

AND shout out to my sisters for helping me to block this out TT my younger sister practically did ALL the work for the second panel, she even drew it out for me initially, so thanks gug <3 @abandonedart

I'm only a little sorry for yapping this time >:)

[pucksandpower]

Borrowed Time

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you do everything in your power to make your sick son’s dream come true but what you don’t realize is that meeting his hero will change all of your lives forever

Warnings: terminal illness and death

“You know what would be the coolest, Mama?” The soft voice of your son, Luca, breaks through the silence of the hospital room.

You brush a stray hair from his forehead, trying to coax a smile onto your face despite the weight in your chest. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“To meet Charles Leclerc. Just once. To tell him he’s my hero.” Luca’s eyes, though tired, gleam with that familiar spark every time he talks about Formula 1.

Your heart aches, knowing how much this means to him. “He is pretty amazing on the track, isn’t he?” You respond, reminiscing about the countless races you’ve both watched together from this very room.

Luca nods, holding his toy race car, a replica of Charles’ Ferrari. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. He never gives up, even when things get tough. Kinda like me.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice, making you marvel at his resilience.

You pull him close, tears threatening to spill. “You’re my hero too,” you whisper, kissing his temple.

He snuggles closer, murmuring, “I just wish I could meet him, Mama. Tell him he gives me strength.”

You take a deep breath, new resolve settling in. “You never know, my love. Miracles happen.”

The determination you feel is like a roaring fire and you silently vow to make Luca’s dream come true. No matter what it takes.

***

As the evening shadows stretch across the hospital room, you find yourself deep in thought, racking your brain for any means to make Luca’s wish a reality. You think about reaching out on social media, starting a campaign, anything to catch Charles Leclerc’s attention.

You start by posting on your personal pages: a heartfelt message accompanied by a picture of Luca holding his toy race car, the walls of his room adorned with posters of Charles racing. #LucaMeetsLeclerc, you caption it, hoping against hope that the message reaches the right eyes and ears.

The following days are a whirlwind. Friends, family, and even strangers share the post, and the hashtag starts trending in your community. Messages of support flood in and local news channels express interest in Luca’s battle.

One evening, after reading Luca a bedtime story, your phone buzzes with a notification. It’s an email from a name you don’t recognize but the subject line sends your heart racing: A Special Meeting.

Opening it hastily, your eyes skim over the words:

Dear Y/N,

I represent Charles Leclerc. We were deeply moved by Luca’s story and would like to arrange a meeting ...

Tears blur your vision and you can’t help but let out a soft sob of relief and joy. Luca, hearing your cry, looks up at you with curious eyes. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

You pull him into a tight embrace, trying to convey all the love and happiness you feel. “Sweetie,” you whisper, pulling back to meet his gaze, “I think your dream might just come true.”

Luca’s eyes widen and his smile lights up the room brighter than any lamp ever could. The journey to fulfill a lifelong dream has just begun.

***

The hospital room feels heavier than usual. The rhythmic beeping of monitors fills the silence as Luca plays absent-mindedly with his race car on the bed. Just as you are about to suggest a card game, a knock interrupts the monotony.

“Come in,” you call softly.

The door opens and to your astonishment, Charles Leclerc himself steps inside, a shy smile gracing his features. He seemed different than on the TV — more human, more vulnerable.

“Ciao, Luca,” Charles greets, his voice gentle.

Luca’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “You ... you’re real.”

Charles chuckles, pulling a chair closer to the bed. “Last time I checked, I am. Your mom tells me you’re quite the fan.”

Luca nods vigorously. “You’re my hero. When you race, I feel like I’m flying. Free from this …” He gestures vaguely at the hospital equipment surrounding him.

Charles’ eyes soften. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. But, you know, you’re a hero too. Racing against challenges every day.”

You watch their interaction, touched by Charles’ genuine empathy. “Thank you for coming. It ... it means the world.”

Charles turns to you, a depth of understanding in his eyes. “When I read about Luca, I saw more than just a fan. I saw a fighter. Just like on the track, it’s the fights we don’t see that often matter most.”

There is a brief silence, filled with unsaid emotions.

Luca’s voice, trembling with emotion, breaks the quiet. “I have a question, Charles. How do you stay brave even when you’re scared?”

Charles takes a moment before responding. “I focus on the present. Fear often comes from thinking about what might happen. But in the moment, there’s a job to do, a race to finish.”

Luca looks thoughtful. “So, you mean I should focus on now and not think about ... later?”

Charles nods, placing a comforting hand on Luca’s. “Exactly. Live in the now and remember that every race has its challenges. It’s how we face them that defines us.”

Tears well up in your eyes, gratitude and admiration for Charles swelling within you. Here he was, not just a racing star but a beacon of strength for your son.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice choked with emotion.

Charles smiles, glancing between you and Luca. “No, thank you. Today, I met a true champion.”

***

“You know,” Charles begins, playing with the edges of the signed Ferrari cap he just gifted Luca, “I once met a kid, a bit older than you, at a race. He told me that every time he felt like giving up, he’d watch one of our races. Said it gave him hope."

Luca’s fingers trace the signature on the cap. “Is that why you race? For people like him ... and me?”

Charles leans back, gazing out the window for a moment. “Partly. But also for myself. Racing ... it’s my passion, my escape. It’s where I find my strength.”

You feel compelled to share your own perspective. “We all have our races, don’t we? For Luca, it’s here, fighting every day. For me, it's trying to be strong for him, even when I feel like falling apart.”

Charles looks at you intently. “It’s incredible the strength we find when it’s for someone we love. Your journey, your race, is just as important — is more important — than any I’ve been on.”

Touched by his words, you continue, “I watch you race. The precision, the dedication. It’s art. I want Luca to have something like that, something to pour his heart into.”

Luca chimes in, his voice soft, “I think I already have something. Watching races with Mama, it’s our thing. It helps me forget, even if just for a while.”

Charles leans forward, engaging Luca directly. “Then let’s make a promise. You keep fighting your race here and I'll keep racing out there. Deal?”

Luca’s smile is radiant. “Deal.”

There is a pause, a moment of reflection, before Charles turns to you. “You're an incredible mother. The strength you show, the love ... it’s palpable. And it reminds me so much of my own maman.”

You blink away tears. “We do what we have to for our children.”

He nods, a faraway look in his eyes. “She would always say the same thing after losing my father. And sometimes, despite all the pain and struggle, we find connections, kindred spirits, who remind us we’re not alone.”

You smile, feeling a deep bond forming, not just between Luca and Charles but between two souls who understood the depth of love, sacrifice, and hope.

***

“I have a proposition,” Charles offers, the twinkle in his eyes belying the gravity of his words.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”

“How would you both feel about attending a race in-person? I can make sure Luca is comfortable and you both get the full VIP experience.”

Luca’s face lights up with hope and disbelief. “Really? I ... I’d get to see you race in real life?”

Charles nods, “Right from the best seat in the paddock.”

You hesitate, considering the logistics, the health implications. “I don’t know. It’s a beyond generous offer but Luca’s health …”

Charles raise a hand, preempting your concerns. “I’ve thought about that. We have top medical facilities at the track and I’ll make sure we have everything necessary for Luca.”

“You’d do that for us?” you whisper, the weight of his offer sinking in.

Charles leans forward, sincerity evident in his gaze. “I’ve won races, stood on podiums. But the race Luca is running, the courage he’s showing ... it’s unmatched. I want him to see a race, not just as a spectator but as a fellow racer.”

Luca looks up, eyes brimming with tears. “You make it sound like I’m a hero. But I’m just trying to get by, just trying to ... to live.”

“And that’s what makes you a hero,” Charles replies gently. “Facing adversity and pushing through, not because of fame or accolades but because of love, hope, and sheer will.”

You feel a lump in your throat, deeply moved by Charles’ words. “It’s not just race wins or trophies that make you a champion, Charles. It’s moments like this. Thank you. This means more than words can say.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “In the grand scheme of things, life is the most important race. And in that race, I’ve found two champions right here.”

***

In Monza, as you settle into the VIP area with Luca by your side, the excitement in the air is overwhelming in the best way possible. The roar of the engines, the sea of red flags, the bustling energy of the crowd — it is a sensory overload that fills Luca’s eyes with wonder.

“Monza is special, you know,” Charles whispers, kneeling next to Luca’s wheelchair, overlooking the historic Italian track. He slips off a red Ferrari bracelet from his wrist, its well-worn leather showing its age. “This was given to me when I first joined Ferrari. I like to think that it’s brought me luck ever since.”

Luca’s eyes widen, tracing the intricacies of the bracelet. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Charles smiles, “Today, I want you to hold onto my luck. Keep it safe for me, will you?”

Nodding fervently, Luca reverently holds the bracelet. “I promise.”

When Charles leaves to prepare for the race, Luca clutches the Ferrari bracelet to his heart. “Mama, did you see? He gave this to me. His lucky bracelet!”

You smile, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. He wants you to keep it safe. It’s a piece of his heart.”

As the race progresses, you both watch in awe as Charles’ navigates the twists and turns of the circuit. Your heart races with every lap, both as a fan and as someone who had come to know the man behind the helmet.

And then, the moment you’d never forget — a triumphant finish, Charles Leclerc taking the checkered flag. The Tifosi erupts into cheers, and during the celebration, you almost swear that Charles’ eyes find yours among the crowd.

Over the radio, his voice crackles through the airwaves, reaching not just the pits but into your very soul. “This one’s for Luca. Keep fighting, champ.”

Luca’s eyes widen, his hand clutching the bracelet even tighter. “Did you hear, Mama? He said it for me!”

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. “Yes, sweetheart. He said it for you.”

The post-race interview is a blur of emotions. Charles, sweaty and exhilarated, is asked about the race, about his victory. But then he pauses, his gaze distant yet focused, his voice trembling with emotion.

“This win ... it’s for someone very special. A young friend of mine named Luca. He’s fighting a battle much tougher than any race and his spirit, his courage — it’s what carried me through today. Luca, this is all for you.”

***

The roar of the crowd has faded but the emotional high from the race lingers. You, Luca, and Charles head back to the hotel provided by Ferrari with laughter and memories of the day filling the conversation.

However, as the night passes by, a chilling silence envelopes the room. Luca’s breathing becomes shallow, his skin clammy. Panic bubbles up within you. The medical equipment that was always close by in the hospital is absent here.

You rush to his side, your hands trembling as you try to comfort him. “Luca, honey, stay with me. Breathe.”

Charles, witnessing the scene, feels a deep pang of fear and helplessness. “I’ll call for help,” he says, fumbling for his phone.

As you count the seconds for first responders to arrive, Luca’s weak hand reaches out, clutching Charles’ wrist. His voice, barely a whisper, shares a desperate plea. “Charles, if ... if I don’t make it, promise me you’ll look after Mama. She’s strong but she'll need someone.”

Charles, tears blurring his vision, nods, squeezing Luca’s hand reassuringly. “I promise. But you’re a fighter. You have to keep racing, okay?”

Luca manages a faint smile. “Always racing, Charles. Always.”

Emergency services arrive soon, the room transforms into a flurry of medical professionals and machines. Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you both watched, praying for a miracle.

Hours feel like lifetimes. When the medical team finally manages to stabilize Luca, the emotional toll is evident in every face in the room.

You approach Luca’s bedside, gently stroking his forehead. “You gave us quite a scare, sweetheart.”

Luca, though exhausted, manages a faint smirk. “Had to keep the race interesting, right?”

Charles, his voice choked with emotion, adds, “Every race has its challenges, remember? You faced this one head-on, just like a true champion.”

Luca’s eyes meet Charles’ own, a depth of understanding passing between them. “Remember your promise,” he whispers.

Charles nods, his gaze drifting to you. “Always.”

***

“You know, I’ve seen some tough races,” Charles begins, his gaze distant, “but nothing compares to what I witnessed last night. The strength, the love, the sheer determination.”

You sigh, exhaustion stamped across your face. “Every day is a race. Some days, the finish line feels close, other days it feels miles away.”

Charles takes a deep breath, his voice wavering slightly, “I ... I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through but I want to be there, for both of you. Luca asked me to look after you and that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

You look up, surprised by the depth of his commitment. “You’ve done so much already. You’ve given Luca memories he will cherish forever.”

He moves closer, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not just about Luca. It’s about you too. Through this entire ordeal, the strength you’ve shown, the love … it’s made me see life in a different light.”

A silence envelopes the room, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring Luca.

“I’ve raced all over the world,” Charles whispers, “but I’ve never met someone who’s touched my heart the way you both have. I want to be there for you, for whatever you need.”

You blink back tears, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “It’s been so long since someone offered to share the load. I’m not sure I know how to let someone in anymore.”

Charles gently takes your hand. “One step at a time. Just like in a race. We face each challenge as it comes, together.”

A tear escapes, trailing down your cheek. “Thank you, Charles.”

He brushes the tear away, his touch lingering. “No, thank you. For letting me be a part of your world and for showing me what real strength looks like.”

***

“Look at that,” Luca murmurs, pointing towards the sunset painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. The three of you sit atop a hill overlooking the city, a picnic blanket spread beneath you.

Charles takes a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs. “You know, moments like this make me appreciate life even more. The simple joys, the beauty all around.”

You nod, taking in the serene view. “It’s easy to get caught up in the chaos and forget these moments exist.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with a mix of mischief and wisdom beyond his years. “You two sound like philosophers. All I know is that this sandwich tastes amazing.”

You chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Always living in the moment, aren’t you?”

He grins. “That's the secret, Mama. We have to savor every bite, every sunset, every laugh.”

Charles, deeply moved, joins in. “You're right, Luca. In the races, I’ve learned that every second counts. It’s the same with life.”

Luca nods earnestly. “Exactly! You can’t rewind time. You can only enjoy it.”

The evening wears on with laughter, stories, and shared dreams. The three of you revel in the simplicity of the moment frozen in time.

As stars begin to sprinkle the night sky, Luca turns to Charles, a serious expression on his face. “Promise me something?”

Charles leans in, listening intently. “Anything.”

“Make more moments like this with Mama, even after ...” Luca's voice trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

Charles squeezes Luca’s hand, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise, champ. Moments full of love, laughter, and sunsets.”

Luca’s watery laugh has tears pooling in your eyes. “You know, when you look at the sunset, remember me. Remember this moment.”

You turn to him, tears now overflowing. “Luca …”

He smiles, a mixture of melancholy and contentment in his gaze. “I may not be here forever but I'll always be a part of these sunsets. A part of you.”

Charles, his voice a gentle whisper, adds, “And a part of me.”

***

“Mama?” Luca’s voice, frail and delicate like the gossamer wing of a butterfly, quivers with fear.

You lean in closer, grasping his hand between both of yours, heart heavy. “Yes, my love?”

He swallows hard, searching your eyes with his own clouded ones. “I’m scared, Mama. I don’t want to go.”

Tears blur your vision but you muster a brave smile for him. “I know, sweetheart. But remember our sunsets? Sometimes, the sun has to set to make way for a new dawn.”

Luca’s fingers weakly grip yours. “But what if it’s dark, Mama? What if it hurts? What if I’m all alone?”

Charles, unable to remain a silent spectator, interjects, his voice cracking with emotion. “You won’t be. It will be just like falling asleep. You’ll have the sunsets, the memories, and all the love we’ve shared. That light will never fade. We will always be here. I promise.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with tears but also a glimmer of hope. “Will you sing for me, Mama? The song from when I was small?”

Your heart breaks, remembering the countless nights you’d sung him to sleep. Taking a deep breath, you begin, your voice soft and lulling:

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray ...”

Luca’s breathing slows, his grip on your hand loosening.

“You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you,

Please don’t take

My sunshine away.”

As the final note leaves your lips, Luca’s chest rises gently one last time, then stills. The room is silent, save for your heart-wrenching sobs.

Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around you as you crumple into him, your world shattering. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, tears streaming down both your faces.

***

The somber quiet of the funeral is punctuated by the soft cries of mourners. The backdrop of gentle flowers contrast starkly with the weight of the grief in the air.

Charles stands next to you, holding a polished helmet, the vibrant colors of his Monza race-winning headgear gleaming under the sun. He turns to face you, eyes red-rimmed.

“This,” he starts, voice choked, “is my helmet from Monza. The race we won together. He was my co-driver that day, in spirit.”

You take a shaky breath, reaching out to touch the helmet, feeling its cool surface, the memories of that day flooding back. “He would’ve been so proud to have this.”

Charles nods, tears streaming down his face. “And this,” he says, taking the Ferrari bracelet off his wrist, “he held onto it for me once. I ... I want him to have it. To keep it safe.”

You clutch the bracelet, feeling its familiar weight, the leather still warm from Charles’ wrist. “It meant the world to him. And to me. Thank you.”

The two of you stand side by side, staring at the small casket adorned with flowers and memories. The embodiment of a life cut short but filled with love and unforgettable moments.

Together, you place the helmet and bracelet inside, a final tribute to a young racer whose journey had inspired so many.

“He’s free now,” Charles whispers, his voice barely audible. “Racing in the skies, no pain, no limits.”

You nod, tears flowing freely. “Our little champion, forever.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, both of you finding solace in each other’s warmth. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves, carrying with it the memories of a brave soul, forever remembered, forever missed.

***

The familiar crest of the hill looms ahead, the very spot where laughter and dreams once danced in the wind. You and Charles reach the top, the vast expanse of the horizon stretching out before you. The setting sun casts a golden hue, much like that unforgettable evening a year ago.

Charles lays down a blanket, reminiscent of that day, and the two of you sit, lost in memories. The silence isn’t empty — it’s filled with remembrance of a young boy’s laughter, his dreams, his courage. The hole he left behind in your hearts.

“Do you ever feel,” Charles hesitantly cuts through the quiet, “that Luca is still here with us, watching these sunsets?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “All the time. Every time I close my eyes under the setting sun or look up at the sky, I feel his presence.”

Charles takes a deep breath, struggling with his emotions. “I’ve been thinking about a way to honor Luca. To keep his spirit alive.”

You turn to him, eyes questioning.

“A foundation,” Charles begins, “In Luca’s name. To help children with terminal illnesses and their families. To give them hope, love, memories.”

You feel a rush of emotion, a tidal wave of love and loss. “He would have loved that. To know he’s making a difference even now.”

Charles nods, tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘It’s not just about the financial help. It’s about the moments, the memories. The sunsets and the picnics. The dreams and the hopes.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, drawing strength from the bond you’ve forged. “We’ll do it together. For Luca.”

The sun slowly dips below the horizon. As the first star appears, a sense of peace envelops the two of you. In the heart of sorrow, a new purpose is born, ensuring that Luca’s light continues to shine, guiding countless souls out of the darkness.

***

The sun sets in a blaze of colors, casting a warm glow over the hill that has become a symbolic memorial. Charles and you sit side-by-side, hand-in-hand, watching the bittersweet horizon.

A small voice breaks through the silence. “Mama, Papa, why do we come here?”

You turn to your daughter, a smile tugging at your lips. Lucia, with her curious eyes and radiant smile, is a constant reminder of love and life renewed.

“We come here to remember someone very special,” Charles explains gently, his eyes, so similar to your daughter’s, filled with tenderness.

Lucia looks at you both, a hint of understanding in her innocent gaze. “Luca?”

You nod, voice soft. “Yes, sweetheart. Your big brother. We come here to celebrate him, to tell stories about him, and to show him how much we love him.”

Lucia frowns slightly. “But I never got to meet him.”

You stroke her hair, your heart aching and swelling simultaneously. “He’s always with us, in our hearts. Just like you are.”

Charles leans down, wiping away a tear that escapes your eye. “And you’re named Lucia after him, to carry his memory forward.”

Lucia’s eyes light up, smile shining bright. “I’m like a part of him?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “A part of him lives on in you. In all of us.”

As the sun dips below the horizon, bathing the world in twilight, you hold each other tightly, a family united by love, loss, and the enduring spirit of a young boy whose legacy lives on in every sunset, every star, and every beat of your hearts.

[shiroikabocha]

Now that I’ve finished it, here are more coherent/useful thoughts (under cut because spoilers)

Oh, this is so perfect. It’s SO perfect.

Ianthe loves being Ianthe. Ianthe loves being Ianthe more than anything else in the world—the closest she gets to loving any non-Ianthe person is loving her twin sister, and from the way Ianthe talks about Coronabeth, it’s pretty clear that it’s a distinctly acquisitive love, not a love based on knowing anything meaningful about Coronabeth as a person. Ianthe is, above all, extremely disinterested in getting to know anyone who isn’t the Most Interesting Girl in the World (Ianthe).

(I think that’s why she likes Augustine so much—he’s spent thousands of years crafting a perfectly blank persona, showing nothing of his interiority, leading Harrow to wonder if he even has any. Ianthe sees that and she’s like: awesome, finally somebody who’s not out to bore me with all their dumb complicated feelings, this guy’s the coolest ever, I want to be just like him)

So for Palamades to hit her with that—oh man. Oh MAN. Ianthe, in your quest to solidify Ianthe Tridentarius as an eternal unchanging paragon of Awe, you have become… not Ianthe. And you were too obsessed with your own Ianthe-ness to even see it.

You thought you could make the devil’s bargain with counterfeit currency and now the bill’s come due. Killing Babs is no big deal because “who cares about Babs?” Baby, YOU cares about Babs! You IS Babs now, bitch! Your perfect immutable self? You went and MUTED it!

God, it’s the perfect way to cut a self-obsessed person to the core. You love yourself so much? The person you love doesn’t fucking EXIST, Ianthe. You invited a permanent roommate into your soul and you don’t even LIKE him and now you’re on the lease together forever and you did it to yourself

The unwanted guest isn’t Palamades. The unwanted guest is Babs.

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Bloom (Joel Millerxf!reader)

A/N: Naaaah whoever decided Joel Miller should be played by Pedro Pascal did it for the people who have daddy issuesssss. Here’s something I whipped out because Pedro leaves in my mind rent free. Pleaseee give me some suggestions or prompts for things to write

I tried starting a tag-list but it literally burned in flames when I tried setting it up. Please just turn on notifications if you would like to be updated for @cherryblossom-enthusiast if you want to keep up with my writing :)

Synopsis: Joel Miller was neither friend or foe. You’ve barely talked to the man considering his reclusiveness. But you can’t stop staring and wanting. Turns out, he can’t stop staring and wanting you either. 

Warnings/ Tags: E (18+). Smut bby. Fluff, GrumpyxSunshine (Reader is a florist!), Unprotected PinV, Language, Dirty talk! Joel, Praise Kink, Rough sex, Fingering, SLIGHT spoilers

Word Count: 5.3K Words

Masterlist 

Your breath clouds your vision like a puff of white smoke.

Winter. The very word is a tragedy.

Food is harder to come by, light leaves much faster. The world is as bleak as it is and yet winter still cascades around you, turning everything black and white. A lifeless painting.

The chilly wind picks up and a shiver runs through your body.

“Y’good?”

The voice is lazy. Slow.

Warm.

Considering who it’s coming from, the level of warmth is a fucking marvel.

A hulking figure approaches your side. With a deep sigh, you turn your head and you’re met with the most tired eyes you’ve ever seen on someone. No shine, no luster, just an outpour of exhaustion from every small gesture he decides to do.

Joel fucking Miller.

You remember the first time you talked to him all too clearly.

You’d never been friends. Acquaintances even. Makes it a bit hard when the son of a bitch was as recluse as he was. They were the new residents of Jackson. Him and the girl he holds tight to his chest.

You were intimidated by him at first. Joel was all gruff words, long sighs, and blank stares. But the more you paid attention to him, the more you understood how he worked. Especially, when it came to the people he cared about. The man didn’t take shit from anyone. Nobody bothered him, and he returned the favour.

For the most part, that stayed true. Joel was the kind of person who always vied to stay invisible, be like every other person. Unaffected for the most part. But as you start to water your flowers on a clear-skied summer day, you hear him laughing.  

The richness of that laugh is still embedded into the deep recesses of your mind.

Joel wasn’t hard to understand as long as you really looked at him and boy did you stare.

You look over to his porch and there he is, “take no shit” Joel Miller with Ellie, teaching her how to play the guitar. You can’t quite remember what they were talking about. Something about “dinosaurs” and “T-rex hands”, but his adoration for the girl was so palpable, so intoxicating.

It was your first time seeing him so- loose. Like he actually gave a damn.

That’s when you knew Joel Miller would burn the world to keep that girl happy.

Ellie’s voice calling your name snaps you out of your thoughts. “How are you doing?!”

The tips of your ears burn, thinking about how weird it must have been staring at the pair for so long. “Enjoying this weather, how are you doing today Ellie?” You flash a bright smile.

She runs off the porch, practically hurling the instrument back at Joel. You hear an oof from the man behind her and you almost let out a small chuckle. Ellie stops in front of you, notebook in hand. The girl was always drawing or writing something. “It’s a great thing you came out,” she starts and pulls a pencil out from her back pocket. “I’ve been meaning to ask all about your pretty flowers.”

“Hopefully I have some answers.”

The girl babbles on about anything and everything she could think of. From what she thought were the coolest flowers, to what colours reminded her of planets. The conversation happens a while. You’d hit every single plant in your garden by the end of it.  

Ellie points at your rose bushes with the back of her pencil. She reminds you of a reporter. All serious, wanting to get a big scoop, thirsty for any ounce of information she could get. “How about those? What are those?”

“Ah,” you move away so she can have a better view. “Those are called roses.”

“Uh-huh” She writes enthusiastically in her notebook “and what do those mean?”

“Well, each colour means a different thing, but that colour specifically-“ you point at the flowers behind you using your thumb “red roses, mean passion, affection, and-“ you pause, trying to find the proper words “things akin to love.”

Ellie stops her writing and looks up at you. Her eyebrows are creased and she looks so ridiculously cute it makes you giggle. “Basically, you’d give it to someone you reaallly reaaallly like Ells.”

“Like- Joel?”

That gets a proper laugh out of you. “Not quite.”

She doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your answer but leaves the reply alone. In true Ellie fashion, she moves on by asking another question. “What flower would I be?!”

You pretend to think about it for a moment even though you know exactly what flower you would give her. Not that you’d given that particular question much thought, but you just knew. When you find exactly what you’re looking for, you squat to quickly pluck it from the ground and turn back to Ellie. You outstretch your hand “I think I’ll give you a yellow lilly.”

“What does this one mean?”

You ponder it, letting out a hmmm and place the flower behind her ear. “Well it wouldn’t be special if I had to explain it now would it? I guess you just have to brush up on your flower language.”

Ellie lets out a whine. “But you’re the only who knows anything about plants here!”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to bother me more.”

A wild smile blooms on her face.

“Ellie!” You turn to discover the owner of the voice behind you. Tommy Miller approaches your direction, carrying a bag of supplies and produce. “You said you’d help Maria with supper tonight!”

Ellie jumps. “Shit!” She runs towards Tommy without a single care in the world. Halfway, she calls back to you and thanks you for your time. Tommy lifts his hand to acknowledge your presence and in return you lift your hand back to wave goodbye. Before you know it, the pair disappears, Ellie eagerly asking Tommy if he knew what her new flower meant.

“She’ll be talking to everyone bout’ flowers for while.”

Shoulders tensing, you swivel your head to your side. Joel stands beside you, hands in his pockets, a small smile gracing his face.

It catches you off guard completely. In the months you had spent as his neighbour, Joel had never spoken even a mere sentence to you. There was acknowledgement, maybe a simple wave, that nod men his age do when they want to greet a passerby. But hearing him direct his words to you hits you like a wave. A tsunami of shock.

He seems to notice your plight and his once loose posture turns rigid. “Sorry,” he mumbles “I should stop botherin ya-“

You shake your head in defense. “No, no, it’s just-“ Letting the tension roll of your shoulders, you sigh out a laugh and extend your hand, introducing yourself.  He clasps it with his own and your arm goes limp. His hand is larger, the callouses hard against your skin. It should feel weird, uncomfortable even, but none of those feelings come to mind.

“Joel Miller, nice to meet you.”

Maybe you were silly for expecting more, but nothing really happens after that.

There were some conversations about small favours and errands here and there, but not to anyone’s surprise, Joel’s got more than one hard layer of rock. He’s as immovable as a mountain. You naturally went back to the role of spectator. Stupid little crush that wouldn’t go away.

How could it when he was the man that he was.

He repeats his question from earlier and it finally snaps you back to your current reality. You were in the middle of rounds during this god-forsaken weather. “Y’good?”

Joel wasn’t even supposed to be your patrol partner. You had gotten wind that your original partner caught hold of the flu and since Joel was otherwise wide open for the afternoon other than indulging other people’s requests, he took up the opportunity. The walk started off as awkward. You didn’t know what to say or how to approach him so it stayed quiet for the majority of the time, but the more you walked, the more comfortable it became. Usually, going out of Jackson’s walls still scared you. Having Joel by your side gave you a bit more re-assurance. You aren’t oblivious. Everyone knows how brutal he can become.

You shrug and look back at the vast expanse of land in front of you, overseeing from the cliff you were on. “’Just enjoying the natural splendour.”

Joel stays silent for a small while but replies. “I’d believe you more if you didn’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’d get into a ring and fight winter one-on-one”

The comment makes you scoff. “I’m tough as nails Miller.” You stare directly into his impenetrable eyes. “I’m sure I can handle a little snow.”

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

Joel opens the door to a safehouse, making sure not to drop his gun until he knows for sure the area is safe. Once he’s satisfied, he leans the shotgun against the wall and motions for you to come in with a nudge of his head.

Both of you had been making record time getting back, but not even a racehorse could outrun the storm starting to brew. Halfway through your trudge back, Joel pats your shoulder, explaining that with the poor winter jackets the both of you were wearing and the wind whipping your faces, it’d be best to stop by a small cabin him and Tommy scouted a few rounds back. Not wanting to freeze to death, you obviously agreed to the idea.

It left you here.

Setting your bag down, rubbing your hands together, patiently waiting for Joel to start a fire in the hearth.

Joel.

Joel.

Alone with Joel.

He stands up from his crouching position and turns back to you. “You’re free to set-up your sleeping bag closer to the fire.”

“Oh, no- no, it’s alright.” You speak quickly. Almost too quickly. “You made the fire, I think you deserve to enjoy the fire.”

“But-“

“I insist.” You state it in a tone that says “that’s final”.

The man sighs. “Alright ma’am, whatever ya say.”

The two of you unroll your packs, splaying your sleeping bags so that your toes are towards the hearth. You take off your boots and sit on your make-shift bed. It was uncomfortable, you haven’t had to sleep on one in a while, but you’d gladly take anything over having to stay outside. Joel follows suit.

“Turns out I couldn’t handle a little snow.” You remark.

A small puff of air comes out of him. Coming from Joel, it may as well have been a full-blown laugh. You turn to take a glimpse at him and another small smile is on his lips. It’s only the second time you’ve ever seen one on him and it knocks all the air out of you just like it did the first time.

He’s distracted and that’s when you take the time to really focus on him. He looks softer in the firelight, the whites in his hair more prominent, his usual dark eyes having a glow to them. He looks less- burdened, and with that smile on his face, dare you say, despite your current situation, just the tiniest bit peaceful.

“You should do that more.” The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“What?”

“Smile.”

Like a toddler caught with the cookie jar, a crook caught in the headlights, Joel tenses and you mentally punch yourself in the face. His face goes back to the stoic front he usually puts on.

“Sorry, I was just-“ you start to apologize.

“It’s fine.”

Silence once again ensues. The air becomes as awkward as it was before.

“So-“

“What-“

You both talk at the same time.  Joel gestures to you, asking you to go first.

“I was just gonna ask what we could do to kill time.”

Joel shrugs and continues to stare at the fire. “We could always just sleep.”

“Nah c’mon-“you push “don’t be such a bore.” You ponder some more and think of an idea. “How about twenty questions?”  Your rounds partner says nothing, and you take the chance to convince him even more. “I’ve lived beside you a whole year and know nothin about you-“

“Probably for the best.”

Oh.

You understand. Of course, you do. But you can’t stop the small twinge of disappointment growing in your chest anyways.

When he makes the statement, you pull back. “Sorry, I just wanted to know more about you.” You fiddle with your nails. “Been staring at you for god knows how long and the most I’ve gathered is you like wood work.”

Joel perks up at your confession.

Dumb.

So dumb of you to admit that.

“You’re right, it’s better if we just go to-“

“No, let’s play.”

His sudden change of attitude to your idea throws you in for a loop. “Really? You sure?”

“That your first question you’re wastin’ darlin’?”

Your already tired brain short circuits at the nickname. “What?” No- I-“

The man has an amused look plastered all over his face. “Okay, well- shoot then.”

You think up of something stupid on the spot. “Favourite movie?”

“None. Got too many.” He answers.

“What? Well that’s not-“

“My turn.” He cuts you off once more. “Favourite flower?”

It doesn’t even take you a second to respond. “Oh easy, the lotus flower.” You ponder your next question. “One thing you don’t like?”

“Smiling.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you.

“Your thoughts on coffee?” He continues.

Your nose wrinkles “Bitter garbage.”

He puts his hands up to surrender. “I respect wrong answers.”

“Pet Peeve?”

He looks up at the ceiling and takes a moment to really think about it. “When I have nothing good to trade for coffee.”  He takes another few seconds to think of another good question before he hits the lottery. “Why don’t you like winter so much?”

A loaded and good question indeed.

You shrug. “Cause.”

You get an eyebrow raise. “Cause?”

“Cause I don’t know-“ You go back to picking at your nails. It’s become a habit, doing it every time you’re nervous. “The world already looks dead and winter comes along and makes it even more dead.”

“That why you like flowers so much?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You’re not even letting me ask a question before you ask me another one?”

This flusters him. “No, I just-“

Embarrassed Joel Miller. Never thought you’d get to check that off your bingo card.

A wide smile breaks on your lips. “ I’m just kidding, Joel.” He lets out a sort of grumble and it makes you smile even wider. “That’s a part of it sure.” Your eyes haze over as you start to remember life as it once was. “My folks were florists” you start to explain “before all this shit went down.” It was a small shop, with wide glass windows, and plants of every kind. “Hated it. Didn’t want anything to do with em’ especially my father, some dumb teenage kid who thought it was embarrassing.” You scoff. “But taking care of plants was the only thing I was good at, held it to my chest like a life-line.”

Memories play in front of you like an old film. Sometimes you forget that there was something before all of this.

All this carnage.

All this wreck.

“Before my dad died, not to this, thank god, he kept on trying to take care of the shop.” You recall his pale ill-stricken face and frail hands.  “I got mad, made a fuss, yelled why he’d take care of some dumb flowers but not himself, and you know what he said?”

You remember his words, as clear as crystal, even twenty years later.

“Isn’t it a wonderful thing that these flowers still grow? Despite all the noise and all the chaos, something as beautiful and as frail as this is surviving. When I think of the way I’m helping that, I can’t possibly suffer.”

Joel stays silent at your admission.

You notice that you may have gone a little overboard.

Jesus- dump it all on him why don’t you?

Trying to make the mood lighter, you quickly change the subject. “Besides, when it’s summer, Ellie visits me more.” Joel Miller chuckles at the mention of the girl. You decide then it’s definitely one of your favourite sounds. “I like seeing the two of you together.”

“Hm?”

“You both always seem so lost in your own world. Nice to see, considering you got that grumpy scowl on all the time.”

“That right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He slowly nods, gazing back at the fire. “Some of us aren’t monsters and smile 24/7 like you do.”

You’re offended by the comment. “Wha- I do not!” You exclaim. “What’s wrong with smiling anyways?”

Even more chuckling. He’s getting real comfortable with doing that. “Nothing, when it comes to you anyways” he remedies “But you do it all the time, watering people’s yards, baking them an apple pie, hell, I’m pretty sure you laughed when you slipped on ice this morning. You got your emotions all over your face you know that? Infects all of Jackson.” He takes a slight pause. “Reminds me of Ellie.”

“Oh god, you saw that this morning?”

“Oh yeah,” He teases, words elongated in that Southern drawl. “Mitts flying into the air and everything.”

Your face practically feels like an oven. “How do you even know about all of that?”

Joel shrugs. “Cause.”

“Cause?”

“Maybe you haven’t been the only one staring for god knows how long.”

Time stops.

Suddenly, air doesn’t matter, heat doesn’t even come close to existing. A supernova could happen, and you’d sit here just as shell-shocked. Nothing matters other than Joel.

Joel and his stupid accent.

Joel and what he just said with that stupid accent.

You swallow thickly and bless your heart, you don’t know what comes over you, but you take a chance to keep pushing. “You think I’m gonna “infect you” with tons of smiles soon too, cowboy?”

He doesn’t reply all to quickly, and for those couple of seconds where all you can here is the fire crackle and the wind whipping outside, it feels like a brick ton is laid upon your shoulders.

“Maybe you already have.”

Goddamn.

All the stolen glances you’ve taken of him flashes in your mind.

“Joel,” you mutter. The man beside you continues to stare at the fire, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Joel.” You repeat, more firm with your tone.

He finally decides to look in your direction and God- your heart pounds so hard, you think it might just come out of your chest. Those eyes. Those damn coffee-coloured eyes of his that usually looks so cold, so despondent are the warmest colour of molten chocolate you’ve ever seen. You can tell he’s clenching his jaw and the view almost knocks you out cold.

With a shaky breath, you start to messily list all the things you’ve always wanted to say. “Tell me now if I’m taking this the wrong way so I don’t keep embarrassing myself, but I swear to everything I hold sacred, if I don’t kiss you right now, I’m going to have a very frustrating ni-“

A growl from Joel cuts you off and before you know it, he’s crossing oceans to get to you. A strong hand grips you by the neck, and firm lips plant themselves squarely on yours.

It’s pathetic how fast you keen under his touch, how fast you grab the collar of his shirt to draw him closer to you. You open your mouth to moan and he takes that chance to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. It’s dizzying, downright intoxicating the way Joel kisses you. The way you’re kissing each other is every look, every stare, every word that was ever left unsaid between the both of you that’s exploding into something cosmic.

You lift yourself up and straddle his lap. You press down and feel the growing hardness in Joel’s jeans. He groans into your mouth and you continue to press your hips down farther.

Joel stops kissing you. A needy whine escapes your lips. “Are you sure you want this darlin’?”

Your panting is heady. “Joel if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll have the liberty of fucking myself with my fing-“

You know you sound downright hopeless, but you’ve been wanting for so damn long.

He flips you down onto the sleeping bags so fast, you don’t even have time to finish. He rucks up your shirt and starts to pepper small kisses from the center of your breasts, down to your stomach. It makes you whimper as you continue to finish taking of your top.

Joel gets to quickly unbuttoning the rest of your clothes, peeling the jeans off of your body until all you have on is your bra and panties. He hovers over you and takes off his own shirt. He’s all muscle and hard chest. The mere sight of him shirtless drenches your underwear faster. He takes a few seconds to peer at your half-naked form. “Damn, you’re a sight.”

“So are you.” You admit in a small voice.

He wastes no time, delving back in between your legs. He slides down your underwear and immediately ghosts his fingers over your cunt. Shivers run down your body as your eyes close in bliss.

“You imagine it was my fingers?” His dark voice pulls you back.

“Ever since I first set my eyes on you Miller.” You heatedly reply.

“Great,” he pushes two fingers inside you making you boom a moan towards the ceiling. “Been thinking it was your fingers around my cock too.

He works into you, his fingers large and stocky. Joel starts off slow, languid, making sure to tease every reaction out of you. You don’t think it’s possible to get wetter than you already are, but every thrust of his fingers proves you wrong. He curls both at the same time, and your hips immediately lift from the pressure. Joel pushes you down with his other hand. “Na-ah darlin’,” That southern drawl of his is deeper, lazier than usual “I finally got you where I want you, you’re not going anywhere.”

As he keeps your hips down with his palm, Joel increases the speed of his fingers. “Why didn’t-“ you choke “you do anything earlier then?”

A mocking scoff leaves him. “You’re too good for me, doll. Got too many issues. “

“Then why now?”

“Because I’m still a selfish fucking asshole.” He groans, rotating his thumb around your clit. “And when you sit in front of me, all flushed and pretty, asking me to fuck you, how could I possibly have the strength to say no?”

You see Joel spit on your slit and it’s what does it for you. A rush of electricity passes through your body and it renders you senseless. You mewl and twist in his hold, but Joel makes sure to hold you through your orgasm.

Your mind is hazy, it turns into a mixture of fog and smoke, but your refuse to leave him hanging. After a few seconds, you prop yourself up and kneel right in front of him. Not breaking eye contact for even a moment, you take your hand and start to palm his length over his jeans. He trembles beneath you, jaw clenching as he lets out a groan. You slowly unbuckle his belt, pulling down the rest of his clothing and waste no time finally gripping him directly.

Shit, you knew a man like him would be big, but this is-

The sound that comes from Joel’s throat is devastating. Somewhere between pant and moan, losing total control. He thumps his head on your shoulder, seeking out the crook of your neck. You continue to work his cock, building up speed, tightening your grip. His tip leaks pre-cum and the way he bunches up your hair desperately, like he needs to hold onto something to keep from losing control only prompts you to keep going. The feeling of power is addicting. “Don’t mess with me” Joel Miller keening under your touch.

He suddenly pulls your hair and it’s enough of a shock to make you stop your hand and whine. “I know you’re having fun doll, but you keep doing that and I’ll finish. Waited too damn long for that to happen.” He grabs you by the hips and flips you over making you let out a small yelp. He positions you so that your ass is towards him. “Bend.” He orders.

So you do.

He palms your ass and gives it a spank. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to touch this? Flaunting it around-“ He squeezes “shoving it in my direction, wearing those pretty dresses of yours.”

“Ever think it was on purpose?”

There’s another slap to your ass to respond to your comment.

He lines up his cock to your entrance, gliding his tip to coat it in your wetness. You quiver, breath hitching, skin prickling.

“If I fuck you, there’s no going back for me darlin’, if you want me to stop you have to tell me right now.”

You groan in frustration. “Fuck me Joel, please just-“

He buries his full length into you all in one thrust.

You think you’re ascending to heaven, knocking on the pearly white gates itself. He gives you a couple of seconds to get accustomed to his massive size. “You okay?”

“Mmhm?” Is all you can make out, trying to nod your head that’s pressed up against your sleeping bag.

“Good,” he starts to move as you cry out in pleasure. “Tell me to stop and I will, but otherwise-“ He shoves himself even deeper. “I’m not holdin’ back.”

Joel sets up a brutal pace from the beginning. He grips your ass tight, making sure you’re taking everything he has to give and all you can do is let him. There’s nowhere for you to go as he drives his hips into you, fully filling you up with every fast snap of his hips. To say it’s overwhelming would be a complete understatement.

Are you sure this is the same Joel Miller? Cool, calm, composed Joel Miller that has everyone quaking in their boots the minute he holds a knife or a gun. Because right now, he’s so undone. There’s no pattern to the way he moves in you, no finesse, just pure want.

He places his hand that was on your ass to your scalp. He pulls you up using your hair and once you’re flush against his back, he grasps your neck, continuing his unrelenting tempo to your pussy. You tighten around him.

“You like that huh?” He comments in an amused tone. “Who knew the town sweetheart was so fucking naughty like this.” You want to try and come up with a witty response, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. “Actually, don’t tell me. I’d kill anybody who does know.”

His thumb raises to your lips and you take the liberties of sucking it into your mouth. His hold on your neck slackens and the sudden rush of oxygen to your head has you teetering on the edge of consciousness. He takes his arm that’s around your stomach and travels it down further to your swollen cunt. Joel starts to roll your clit between his fingers and you think you’ll really black-out then.

“God, such a good girl, even when taking cock.” He whispers into your ear. You clench around him even harder this time and he knows you’re close. “You gonna come doll? Gonna come on my cock?”

A needy whine escapes your throat. Each roll, each rut, each jerk, grows more intense as each second passes. “C’mon,” he coaxes “do it.” With one last pinch to your sensitive clit, your muscles tighten and heat spreads across your skin. Your walls flutter and as your eyes roll back, vision blurring, you are hurled into your climax. With a choked sob, you slump forwards and the only thing helping you stay up is Joel’s hold. He follows you shortly after, sputtering your name on his lips. Pulling out quickly, he comes on your back.

Joel slowly lowers down the both of you, making sure not to crush you with his weight from behind. It was so gentle, so benign you struggled to relate it to the man furiously fucking you just a few moments earlier. Nothing but your pants fill the air for a while. You’re sticky all over, sweat and come coating your skin. Your body was buzzing from both pain and pleasure, but you couldn’t care less.

You roll your body so you can look at him. Joel’s face was and wasn’t everything you expected it to look like. You expect the flush, the hair sticking to his forehead, the clench of his jaw. What you don’t expect is the softness in his usual impenetrable gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He grumbles.

Your eyebrows knit and you place a palm against his cheek. Joel all but melts into your touch. “What for?”

“For wanting you this much.”

Taking both your arms, you wrap them around his neck and pull him towards you. He lays against you, hie ear right beside your mouth. “Thank you.” You whisper.

“What for?

“Wanting me this much.”

You hear his sharp intake of air and smile. You continue to pet his hair, peppering small kisses on his forehead. “I want you too, Joel.”

“You shouldn’t.”  He mutters a tired reply.

“But I do.” You take a deep breath and let him know all your thoughts. “I want all your grumpy stares, and your grunted words- You pause to give him another kiss “Your silent kindness, and that rare smile of yours.” Joel doesn’t say anything back so you continue to talk. “All of it. Will you let me have all of it?”

He pulls himself back, just enough to gaze back at you, full of admiration. “Just let me have all of you too.”

The beating of your heart doesn’t speed, doesn’t flutter past the finish line, instead opting for a slow steady pace, But the feeling in your chest was so heavy, so full, that you couldn’t mistake it for anything other than devotion. You grin from ear to ear. “Who would be able to say no at getting a chance to annoy you with more conversation.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and it only makes your heart fill up with even more with adoration.

This man that you’ve been pining for, holding you close here. Now.

You don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Hell, you don’t know what will happen a few seconds from now, how this whole unpolished attraction between the two of you will buff out. The wind is still howling outside, whipping away at all the destruction and the carnage happening around you, but for now the world is still. The both of you are inside this cabin in the woods and for now, you don’t think, don’t plan, only exist and it is everything.

Maybe later you can hope that in this winter, something beautiful and strong can grow too.

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

It’s late in the evening when you finally get to relax the next day. Once the both of you had returned to Jackson, there were too many errands that had to be rushed in the time that you missed. Nothing else could be said other then a quick farewell between each other.

As you drag your exhausted body up the stairs of your porch, you almost don’t notice the flower in front of your doorstep, nearly stepping on it.

A wave of warmth comes rushing up from your toes.

You beam as you crouch and pick up a singular red rose attached with a note that says “Come over. We didn’t finish our game of twenty questions.”

- - - - - - - -

Want More?

[adanseydivorce]

would absolutely love for part of the context of the “you’ve dated way more than I have” (which I will always maintain that whatever other factors are involved, had way more to do with Adam’s perception of Gansey’s levels of experience than the actuality of them / Adam is an unreliable narrator because he thinks of Gansey as the coolest hottest person evah and assumes everyone else feels this way too) to be that Adam spent ages thinking that Malory was their age but just had older mannerisms / hobbies like Gansey does and that Gansey might have dated them… in my mind the first time Gansey ever brings up Malory pre series he doesn’t use pronouns so Adam constructs this image of this glamorous old money English girl who has all of Gansey’s interests and is rabidly jealous of her, and also into the image of her in his head. Then like a few months later he realizes he’s a guy and is still jealous even though he thinks Gansey is straight or is he??… then like a few months after that it becomes clear he’s older but he’s still not sure How much older and this is Adam hot for evil Latin teacher Parrish so he’s still not ruling out the jealousy… and then he meets Malory and is embarrassed for his previous thoughts but still jealous, because he spent for much time with Gansey and because Adam is a neurotic freak.

[nyxoz]

When you and Eddie are 9, he falls off the monkey bars at school and breaks his arm. You sit with him and hold his good hand while the teachers call an ambulance. He looks up at you with big brown tearful eyes and a sniffle and says “Don’t leave me.” You hold his hand tighter and shake your head, “I won’t.” You say.

When Eddie gets his cast on you’re the first person to sign it. You write your name with a little heart next to it in red marker. “Do you think I can get Stacey Carmichael to sign it?” Eddie asks. You frown a little and your tummy feels weird at the thought. Stacey is in the grade above you and she’s the coolest girl in school. “Dunno” you shrug before Mr. Munson calls from the living room to tell you your parents are here to take you home.

When Eddie is 11 he starts a band called Corroded Coffin. You think it’s a funny name but Eddie tells you that it’s really metal. You tell the boys they should enter the middle school talent show and they do. They come 4th but Eddie is so happy that he picks you up and spins you around even though you’re taller than him. “You didn’t even win!” You laugh as he spins you, “I don’t care, that was so fun!”

When you and Eddie are 12, you fall off your bike riding down the big hill near the trailer park. You scrap your knees and chin and you’re crying all messily. “Eddie! It hurts!” You sob as Eddie holds your face in his little hands to look at your chin. “I know. Let me go get Uncle Wayne!” And then Eddie runs as fast as you’ve ever seen back to the trailer to get Mr. Munson who comes speeding down with Eddie and a first aid kit in hand. “Okay, little miss, what have you done to yourself, hmm?” Eddie holds your hand while Mr. Munson patches you up.

When you’re 13, John Baker kisses you at the snowball dance while you’re slow dancing to a song you don’t know. It was okay but your mom’s lipstick you stole gets on his lips and he has to go to the bathroom to clean it off. “I kissed John!” You tell Eddie who is sitting on the bleachers looking bored. Eddie screws up his face “Yuck.” You frown, “I didn’t say it was yuck when you kissed Jessica Thompson!” You argue. “Did you use tongue?” Eddie asks. This time you screw up your face. “Gross! No!” Eddie shrugs, “Then it wasn’t a real kiss.” You don’t think that’s true.

When you and Eddie become freshman’s he joins a club called Hellfire and it’s all he talks about. “Our DM is so cool! He listens to Judas Priest just like me!” “The campaign is so fun!” “Look at the shirt that they gave us! I’m never taking it off.” He can’t hang out at lunch anymore because he sits with the Hellfire club and that makes you sad but you don’t tell him that. You’re just happy he’s happy.

When you reach sophomore year, you and Eddie agree that Friday nights are your dedicated nights to hang out. Eddie came to you at the end of freshman year saying he missed you and you were so happy you almost cried. You barely saw him anymore so now that you have a night just for you, you couldn’t be happier.

When Eddie turns 16 you surprise him with an audition at the hideout for Corroded Coffin to play every Tuesday night. It might just be a few drunks that heckle at them every gig, but Eddie literally tackles you onto his bed and almost squishes you in thanks. He’s bigger than you now.

When you and Eddie are 17, you’ve become somewhat of the band manager. You help them unpack and pack every night and Eddie usually drops you home after. The rest of the band have left and it’s just you and Eddie hauling the last of the equipment in the back when you almost fall out the back of the van. Eddie is underneath you in an instant, catching you bridal style. “You saved me.” You laugh as you hop down to your feet. Eddie doesn’t laugh, he just looks down at you “‘Course I did. I always will.” He says. It makes your stomach flutter and before you know it you’re leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. You pull away and stare up at him nervously watching as Eddie’s face breaks into a smile. “Y’know, it’s not a real kiss unless there’s tongue.” He says. You slap at his shoulder.

When you’re 17 and 6 months, you’re at Eddie’s trailer and Mr. Munson isn’t home. You’re in Eddie’s bed and you’re both in your underwear and under the covers. Eddie is kissing all over your face, “You sure you wanna? We don’t have to.” He asks for the millionth time. “Yeah, I’m sure.” You reassure him.

When you turn 18, Eddie gives you a little box. You open it and find his guitar pick necklace curled up in the soft velvet. “Eddie,” you gasp, “I can’t accept this. This is the most important thing to you.” Eddie pushes a piece of hair behind you ear and leans in close, “You’re the most important thing to me.”

When you and Eddie are 20, Eddie finally graduates high school. He runs up to you and Mr. Munson (‘Call me Uncle Wayne’ he told you a million times before) and picks you up and spins you around in his cap and gown. “You did it!” You cheer, giving him a loving kiss. He holds your face in his hands “I fucking did it.”

[miguelsslvt]

Hello mother ❤❤😇 how your day going so far

i just wanted to ask you if you could make an bully!miguel x nerd!reader (virgin fem)

Where miguel very much loves to bully reader,maybe an little to much,loves to see her cry, loves to see an reaction from her,and especially when she vulnerable, but never show that side of him to reader,but he masterbate the thought of reader sucking his dick with tears running down her face,but It was until one day where reader was helping with one of the other nerd their, seeing her smiling to ear to ear made his blood boiling,vein popping,eyes cold as the negative zero,but he just walk off leaving,he already had an punishment in mind for reader, (whatever you want,you could put one) where miguel beat the crap out of the guy and making sure that the guy knew to never touch his nerd,and then the next day miguel locks her up with him in an empty classroom and nsfw part come here,😅🙂 just wants him to be an little possessive (that is definitely isn't an LITTLE but who care)

IDK ANYMORE just an request

😜

bully! miguel x nerd! virgin! reader smut

word count: 1.9k

TW: nsfw, smut, bullying, swear words, threats, miguel is lowkey a perv, loss of virginity.

A/N: FINALLY mother has posted!! quite a long one today, could u tell? welcome to the club!! ^^

you felt weak. helpless. Every time he would utter a word to you, it was never anything nice. Always spiteful. Big mean Miguel o’hara. The rudest but coolest boy in your whole year. You’d be like any girl, gawking and jumping circles around him, if it wasn’t for the way he treated you. You should be flattered, really. Considering all the attention and nicknames he gives you. Although, I wouldn’t say ‘freak’ or ‘know it all weirdo’ are considered ‘cute nicknames’.

He practically barred you from gaining any social status, let alone friends. and as much as Miguel does it to everyone, he liked to specifically target you. Why? god knows. All you know is that Miguel is an asshole. A big one.

——————————————————

It was AP English, and you were supposed to be studying for a Macbeth assignment coming up. Supposed to. That was until Peter Parker, who could possibly be the only other person in school that was as bullied as you, decided to sit beside you and ‘hang out’. Your teacher was on pretty good terms with you, so he didn’t mind having two nerds coddled up in the back of class talking about the latest ‘nyc best seller book’. However, when Miguel noticed you both talking in the back, he realised quickly that you two weren’t talking about book clubs.

‘He’s such a jerk, right?’ Peter said, as you were a giggly mess. You put your hand on peter’s as you crouched to laugh even more. Miguel’s eyes darkened. ‘He is! W-when he’s like, ‘oh yeah I’m the coolest kid in school’, when in truth no one actually likes him!’ You replied, as you and Peter clung onto each other, both laughing messes.

Miguel clenched his jaw, realising you must be talking about him. god, he never felt more rage then he did right now.

The truth was, Miguel did bully you. He knew that. he did it on purpose. Just watching you cry, watching you move away from him in the halls so he didn’t heckle you, that arose something in Miguel that made him smirk whenever you squirmed. However, you didn’t know that most nights when he got a reaction out of you, he would lock himself in his room and pull his cock so hard he’s as much of a mess as you were. Hell, he’s even caught himself whimpering your name a few times. But he wouldn’t ever admit it to you. I mean, its ridiculous! What popular asshole admits to the nerd of the school that he’s been touching himself just thinking about her?! His reputation would be ruined! but would he still do it? absolutely.

‘Honestly, I sometimes think flash is the meanest in our school.’ you say, as peter nods in agreement. ‘Yeah absolutely, either him or Miguel.’ He says, as you tilt your head. ‘Whys that?’ You ask, eyebrows furrowed. Peter raises an eyebrow. ‘I mean, cmon y/n, he’s horrible to you, he made you cry yesterday just because you took the last cake in the cafeteria!’ He said, chuckling. You look down. ’I dunno.. I mean he is a little mean to me but still, the difference between Miguel and flash is that Miguel is actually nice to his friends. flash is an asshole to everyone, including his own family.’ You admit.

Peter looks shocked. ‘I mean, you can’t be serio-‘ ‘been talking bad about me, Pete?’ A deep voice was heard. Your blood ran cold. You could see the fear on peter’s face. you both turned around, seeing Miguel towering above you both. You stood up immediately. ‘I- Miguel I don’t think peter meant it in a malicious way’ ‘I’ll deal with you in a second.’ Miguel snapped, as you looked down.

‘M-miguel I didn’t mean to-‘ Peter stammered, as Miguel scoffed. ‘You didn’t mean to? Oh yeah? So what, you weren’t just saying all that shit?’ He said, as Peter looked down. ‘I-i’m sorry.’ He stuttered, as Miguel clenched his fists. ‘You do anything like that again, I’ll get flash to fuck you up again. You hear me?’ He said threateningly, as he lifted his finger to tap on peter’s glasses. ‘Fixed your glasses huh? hm.. shame. Me and flash worked hard breaking them last semester.’ He mocked, as you looked away. The bell soon rang, and you and Peter quickly gathered your stuff to leave.

It was lunch, as you walked down the hall towards the cafeteria, you heard your ‘nickname’. ‘Hey, know it all!’ Miguel shouted out, as you turned around slowly. ‘Y-yes?’ You stuttered, as he grabbed your hand, pulling you into an empty classroom.

You squeaked, falling back into the wall, as Miguel locked the door beside you. ‘I-i didn’t m-mean to be mean last class Miguel i-i swear I-‘ ‘shut your mouth.’ He said, his voice deeper then usual. He turned around from you, as your face grew concerned. ‘A-are you okay?’ You asked. you hear him chuckle, turning towards you. ‘You’re supposed to be smart, but you can’t see what’s about to happen?’ He asked teasingly, moving closer to you. he stopped just as your noses touched, you could feel his hot breath on your lips.

‘..i-if this is some sick prank, it’s really mean.’ You whispered, refusing to look at Miguel in the eyes. He noticed that. ‘Look at me.’ He said, as you hesitantly look up at Miguel. ‘There she is.’ He teased, his finger lifting up your chin. ‘..y’know, I don’t actually think you’re ugly.’ He confessed, as your eyebrows rose.

You were confused. Very confused. ‘Wh-what are you..?’ You tried saying, as Miguel leaned closer to your lips. ‘Let me kiss you.’ He whispered, as your eyes widened. ‘..you-you hate me.’ You said, looking up at Miguel. He smirked. ‘Who says that?’ He teased. He leaned closer to your er. ‘I’ve been infatuated about you for a while now. I never knew why, but when I saw you with damn Parker.. it’s made me realise. Made me know for sure now that I want you.’ He confesses, as you gasped. ‘you.. what?’ you uttered out, as he leaned back towards your lips. ‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks, as you took a moment to digest what he just said.

Did Miguel O’hara just confess he liked you thew whole time he was bullying you? This is all too confusing for you. You should say no, you should go, you should push him away.

‘..yes.’ you muttered, as you watched Miguel’s eyes lighten up with something. Lust? Love? You’re not too sure. What you were sure about, however, was his lips on yours. It was a funny feeling, considering it was your first kiss.

His lips were warmer compared to yours, but they were soft. Too soft. As you both indulged in the kiss, his hands moved down towards your waist. You weren’t sure where to put your hands, so you just settled with his shoulders and hoped it was the right move.

He let go eventually, panting for air, as were you. He smirked. ‘You haven’t kissed anyone before, have you?’ He mocked. ‘Let me guess, you a virgin too?’ He spoke as you blushed, looking away. He moved his right hand to move your chin towards him. ‘Nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Let me take care of that for you.’ He said, his voice sultry.

before you could respond, Miguel grabbed your hips and led you to an empty desk, lifting you up onto it.

You squeaked again, as he just chuckled in response. ‘Who knew little crybaby nerd was such a compliant little girl?’ He teased, as you looked up at him, your face filled with embarrassment. His lips met yours once again, as he kissed you sensually. He lifted your uniform skirt up, his hands travelling up and down your thighs. You pulled away from the kiss slightly to gasp, as he sighed. ‘..you ok with this?’ He asked, as you looked down. Soon enough you looked up at Miguel, nodding. You put your hands on his necks, as you pulled him in for another kiss.

You both were indulged in the moment, and before you knew it, your panties were off and Miguel was unbuckling his belt. You looked down patiently, and honestly a little nervously, to see if the rumour of ‘big dick Miguel’ was true.

‘..it is true.’ You mumbled, eyes wide as his hardened 8 and a half inches stood with pride. He raised an eyebrow. ‘What was true?’ He asked, confused. ’n-nothing. I.. is it.. is it erm, y’know- gonna hurt?’ You asked, your voice shaky. He looked down at you, sighing. ‘It might. But it’ll feel good soon enough, trust me. Okay?’ He said, kissing you softly for what seemed like the first time ever.

He slowly pushed inside, as your eyes widened. Before he could get to more then the tip, you winced. ’S-stop!’ You said, as he stopped moving. ‘..l-let me just.. g-get used to it..’ You said head on Miguel’s shoulder. He tutted, stroking you hair. ‘Haven’t you even put a finger in there before? Damn it, darling, you’re tight..’ He said, kissing your head. eventually, you caught your breath. ‘..g-go deeper.’ You said, as he nodded patiently, pushing all of himself inside. You cried out, tears falling down your face, and something switched in Miguel again.

He couldn’t help himself. That sweet defenceless face of yours, hot with tears, was enough to make him start bucking his hips into yours. He pulled in and out, his hands stuck tightly on your hips, as you clawed on his shoulders, gasping and whining from the painful.. pleasure? Maybe Miguel it was right, maybe it does start to feel good after a while.

As you both got into a rhythm, the pain was overseen by the pleasure soon enough. You were moaning in Miguels ear, gasping. God this was like a dream for him. You were a squirming, whimpering mess, putty in his hands. And he loved every bit of it. ‘god.. you’re so fuckable.. w-who knew the nerd would be such a fucking cute little slut?’ He teased you, as you just moaned in response. ‘Told you it’d feel good, didn’t I? C’mon sweetheart, use your words.’ He cooed, your face scrunching up in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He moved his hand from your waist to your cheek, as he wiped some of your hair away. ‘Hm? Thought you were smart, sweetheart. Wheres all those big words now huh?’ Miguel whispered, as you felt your stomach getting hot. ‘I- m-miguel i-it feels weird..!’ You managed to moan out, as he moved his forehead to rest on your own. ‘You’re gonna cum sweetheart, thats why.. don’t worry, I am too. we can do it together, yeah?’ He panted, as you nodded.

Soon enough, you reached your high, as Miguel played with your clit, making your first orgasm fucking amazing. Your eyes rolled back, as you moaned loudly. As you started to come down, Miguel pulled out, and came on your thighs with a loud grunt. You both stayed for a moment like this, your foreheads leaning on one another, sweaty and panting. once Miguel caught his breath, he cleared his throat and fixed his pants, walking over to the empty teachers desk to find some tissues, walking back over to you as he silently cleaned your messy thighs. Once he was finished, he looked down at you, leaning closer. ‘..you okay?’ He asked quietly.

‘m..mhm.’ you choked out, looking down. ‘I-..I won’t tell anyone.’ You reassured, as he nodded, moving your skirt down. ‘..you should go to the bathroom before running to the cafeteria. Your hair is uh.. y’know.’ He said, as you blushed and nodded.

Miguel left before you, as you stood up and sighed, fixing your hair and uniform. You then looked around the classroom.

You’ll never be able to look at history classroom the same ever again.

[myosotisa]

i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.

ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy

ǁ word count: 2k

ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now

-

There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.

That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.

Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.

But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:

Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.

His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.

The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.

Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.

He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.

The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.

Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.

When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.

The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.

“I - I don’t know.”

Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”

It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.

As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it. 

Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.

Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.

“Are you okay?”

How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”

Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.

That was when the next thing changed.

It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.

Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.

He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.

You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.

I’m starving.

Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.

A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.

What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.

Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?

The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.

Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?

He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.

You wanna do something about it?

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