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lovebugism · 1 year

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the customer’s always right just gave me life, they're just so sweet AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | heart-shaped

summary: you think you might be falling in love with eddie. eddie thinks he might be falling for you. a series of stashed away insecurities threaten to get in the way. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 10k holy moly warnings: talks of drugs, shitty boyfriends, and being a whore <3 also reader gets fingered <3 a lil bit of angst, smut 18+ mdni a/n: ah shit here we go again!! thanks for waiting so patiently for me to get over my writer's block and finally post! reading all the feedback for this series has been so nice, all of you guys are so so sweet <333 anyway, pls enjoy this installment and if you don't.. maybe don't tell me :^) happy reading ily!

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Truth be told, working the lunch rush at Enzo’s wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

It meant you got to miss out on serving all the wine snobs at dinner who send back devoured dishes like it’s their job — insistent on a refund because their food was “unsatisfactory” just to get twice the meal with half the tip.

The rich country club goers you waited on were far more docile in comparison. They arrive dressed in pastel-collared shirts and pretty athletic dresses after finishing up their tennis practices or games of golf.

They sit and talk for hours, dine on the most expensive shrimp and wine, just to leave a tip so ginormous that you have to thank them before they go. It’s a flaunt of wealth more than anything. It might’ve felt the least bit demeaning if it wasn’t going directly into your pockets.

And it would be way too lame of you to say that getting to see Eddie Munson after your shift was the only thing getting you through it at all. That sort of puppy love belonged to high schoolers who don't know any better, you know that… But screw it— knowing you were going to meet him after was the only thing getting you through this mind-numbing, foot-aching, brain-cell-losing, eight-hour shift.

The days, of which there had been four (but, then again, who’s counting?), had been excruciating without him.

You couldn’t even sleep the first night you left his trailer. You felt him everywhere — your mouth, your chest, and between your legs — still buzzing with his touch even halfway across Hawkins.

It had you swearing up and down that the Dungeon Master had some actual powers you didn’t know about. That he’d cast some sort of love spell on you after getting you to come on his thigh.

You quickly learned that Eddie Munson was the kind of boy that girls lose sleep over; the kind of boy that reduces you to your basic schoolgirl tendencies as you grin into your pillow and kick your feet in the air.

It was embarrassing, the effect he had on you.

And you so desperately wanted to blame it on whatever witchcraft the town thought the leader of Hellfire possessed. It was easier than facing the fact that you were head over heels for a stupid boy.

You didn’t even have time to face it, really, because you were already too busy falling for him. He had you tripping all over yourself and face-planting into the petals of a thousand roses — it was pathetic.

You’d catch yourself smiling whenever you thought of him, grinning like an idiot while you rang up customers at the register — more ecstatic at the idea of Eddie than the hundred-dollar tip they’d left you. It made you giddy to think about seeing him again, enough that it distracted you from the fact that you hadn’t sat down since your shift started.

Eddie had you full of sunshine and rainbows and mirth, like something out of a damn GAP commercial. It was a particular sort of happiness you thought abandoned you a long, long time ago.

Apparently, you were wrong.

You think of Eddie, and a foreign feeling of anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach. It almost makes you sick with childlike excitement. You didn’t know another person was capable of making someone this happy. It’s unfamiliar and daunting and euphoric and really fucking scary.

It’s an otherworldly feeling that feels like it’s only happening to you. A secret you want to keep to yourself and shout from the rooftops at the same time. People bustle around you, keep on living their mundane lives, and spare not a glance to their lovesick waitress.

No one knows I’m falling in love right now, you find yourself thinking.

But that isn’t exactly true. Jim Hopper knows because that asshole knows everything, and notices almost immediately how strange you’re acting.

The chief of police was always a comforting sight amidst a sea of strangers, most of whom made more in a week than you could ever hope to make in a year. He's a breath of fresh air, as it were, which is strange considering the two of you spent the entirety of your high school career playing cat and mouse.

He’d catch you smoking, threaten to turn you in, and you’d beg him not to — pull out all the stops, the puppy dog eyes, the innocent schoolgirl charm, the whole damn nine to make him melt.

He’d take pity on you and let you off with a warning, as long as you promised never to do it again. And you’d lie to him, tell him it was a one-time thing, and he’d catch you a week or so later — getting high at the quarry or with your hand shoved down the pants of a man too old for you at Lover’s Lake.

And the cycle would keep on repeating for the next four agonizing years until you graduated.

Strangely, somewhere along the line, the two of you became pretty good friends.

Everyone once in a while, he’ll stop by Enzo’s during his breaks to keep you company. He never actually orders food, though, just binges on the endless free breadsticks until the buttons of his uniform threaten to pop. He'll bathe in yellow candlelight and chi-antee for an hour or more and then leave you a too big tip you always have to fight about when he goes.

Your pour the crimson colored wine he’d ordered into his rounded glass, flashing him the label before describing the vintage to him, per your boss’s demand.

It feels foreign to be so formal in front of Hopper — because, after catching you with a mouthful of Tommy Hagan in a car back in '83, nothing makes either of you uncomfortable anymore. But sometimes it feels like your asshole manager is lurking over your shoulder every damn second of the day.

And having a job is more important than your pride, you figure.

“This is a medium-bodied, acidic tart, ruby red wine. The earthy aroma pairs nicely with the cherry and strawberry notes…” and blah, blah, blah. You’ve repeated the same couple of lines so often you’ve started to say them in your sleep.

“Well, shit, teacup. If you put that much effort into school, you coulda been valedictorian,” Jim quips with a signature dad smirk that’s half-hidden beneath his bushy mustache.

It’s not the first time he’s made that dumb joke, and it won’t be the last.

You roll your eyes more at the nickname than the backhanded compliment, because it isn’t your fault the sasquatch is six-foot-four.

“How much is this one gonna cost me?” he asks you and leans in his plush seat to reach for the wallet in his back pocket.

“Don’t worry about it, lurch. It’s on the house.”

A mischievous glint twinkles in Jim’s eye as he squints up at you. He tucks the leather back into his khakis. “Sure Enzo won’t mind?” he asks you because he hasn’t yet bothered to acknowledge that your boss wasn’t actually named Enzo.

“Yeah, he’ll be pissed,” you confirm with a shrug. “I just don’t care.”

“Well, you’re in an unrealistically good mood after the lunch rush,” he sing-songs.

You don’t miss the suspicious lilt in his voice. Your smile is equally sarcastic and sickly sweet as you tell him: “It’s ‘cause my favorite customer is here—”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that,” he interjects with a curt shake of his head. He sits up straighter and leans his elbows on the white linen cloth of the table like he means business. “Who’s the boy?”

“What— I don’t— What are you— boy?” you sputter with a half-hearted laugh. Your stammering isn’t the least bit convincing.

“It’s a boy, right?” he monotones. “You only get all giddy and gross like this when there’s a boy.”

You hate that he knows you so well. It might’ve been sweet if it wasn’t totally infuriating.

To be fair, you did tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you didn’t want to. When you were falling in love, it poured out of you like sunshine and blinded anyone who dared to look too closely.

Golden rays shoot from your fingertips, shine in the irises of your eyes, and flash from your smile — like the one tugging at the edges of your lips now.

It leaves no room to deny what he already knows: that you’re a stupid girl with a stupid crush on a stupid boy because she hasn’t learned from her stupid mistakes.

“Fine,” you concede with your sheepish gaze flitted to the ceiling. “It’s— It’s dumb. It’s a silly crush, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Hopper nods, like he’s giving you some kind of blessing. “Good for you. It’s about time you moved on from that asshole— what was his name again? Harrington?”

It makes you roll your eyes. You can’t tell if he’s actually confused or if he’s making fun of you. It would be all too like a middle-aged man to make a misogynistic joke about a girl who’s had more partners than years she’s been alive.

“Hargrove,” you correct in a monotone. Your tone is as bitter as thinking about him makes you feel.

“Him, too,” he quips.

There it is.

“It’s not even like that, okay? It’s not like anything,” you try and deflect like you aren’t beaming and trying horribly to hide it. “He… He probably doesn’t even like me like that.”

“Well, it’s about time you got over that boy, is all I’m saying. You deserve a good guy. A boy treats you right, who has actual aspirations in life, and keeps his nose clean—” he rambles as he brings the wine to his mouth to take a drink. He stops himself to ask: “What's his name again?”

You fidget ahead of him, shifting your weight on your feet awkwardly because good guy who stays out of trouble and has actual aspirations in life isn’t how most people would describe the Munson boy. Jim least of all.

He’s got a similar relationship with Eddie to the one he had with you, though there was little room for friendship between the two. It’s just an outlaw making a living on drugs and a chief trying to catch him dealing it.

“Eddie,” you answer and then clear your throat. “Uh, Eddie Munson…”

The life leaves Jim’s eyes.

There’s no amount of wine in Enzo’s cellar that could’ve prepared him for that — or you, for the twenty-minute lecture that followed.

“I have no words,” he’d scolded you like a disappointed parent but proceeded to rant for nearly half an hour after the fact, in true fatherly fashion.

Hopper knows when you’re falling in love. It’s all sunshine and rainbows and blue skies. It’s all so sweet he could gag. But there’s always another side of that coin — a dark, colder, meaner one.

Because sometimes boys are cruel, sometimes you really are in over your head, and sometimes relationships don’t work out. And when things go bad, they go rotten, and he has to deal with the storm cloud you become after the fact.

Taking care of you becomes his part-time job, and his check-ins become endless as he makes sure you don’t fall back into your old ways — using and getting used.

And truth be told, you don’t have the best track record with men, and Hopper tries to tell you all this, but it doesn’t get through.

Because you have a good feeling about this. About Eddie.

Fuck all the rest.

Today marks your thirteenth meeting with Eddie.

For such an unlucky number, it’s got you squirming from all the butterflies fluttering in your belly with an excitement more innocent than you’re used to. Like standing in the queue for a rollercoaster in a childlike mixture of apprehension and animation, somehow both frightened and enraptured for what’s to come.

And you’re absolutely bouncing with it. Smiling to yourself in the car with the radio turned all the way up and the windows all the way down, thrumming your fingers on the steering wheel as you belt the lyrics to “Super Trouper” with a beam that could make the sunshine cower.

It’s all completely and utterly perfect until you become suddenly aware of how unearthly happy you are.

Then it hits you like a ton of bricks and you shrink into yourself because… maybe you shouldn’t feel this way. The last time you saw Eddie, he came in his jeans and you got off on his thigh — there was never any room for daydreaming and pining and puppy love-ing, not when you so quickly gave yourself away.

The thought of Eddie not nearly being as happy to see you is what hurts the most. How he had you once and now you’re back to just being the customer he sees once a week.

What if he doesn’t give you weed for free anymore? Fuck that — what if you’re not his favorite?

And maybe it’s just you, maybe you’re the problem. Maybe you should be passed the point of giddy excitement, maybe it’s uncool, maybe you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve and it’s leaving the door open for too much hurt. Maybe Hopper was right.

But you’re happy, at least for right now, and you don’t get the chance to be too often.

Most days, you’re just an accessory — a pretty pebble someone finds on the ground and spends a couple of seconds ogling at before leaving and never thinking about again.

You deserve the chance to be held, don’t you? You should get to be praised and coddled and worshipped like the pretty girls do.

And Eddie makes you feel held.

So you’ll stick around until he gets bored of you, until you stop being so fun for him. You’ll take the moments of happiness as they’re spoon-fed to you and taste them, really taste them, until you’re starving again. You’ll stay full of this pure puppy love you have for Eddie until it’s time for you to go.

Because, for now, you’re happy. And isn’t that what matters most?

You don’t know it, but Eddie’s caught in a similar dilemma.

He waits for you at the bench you meet him at every week, like you’ve done for months now, but he’s filled with an unfamiliar gaiety as he anticipates your arrival.

He’s so goddamn excited to see you that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It borders on a slight uneasiness that makes him sick to his stomach.

Eddie never gets nervous around customers. Not once, not ever.

He’s dealt to weirdos who live on the wrong side of the track, preppy douchebags that shove him into lockers at school, and pretty cheerleaders who pretend he doesn’t exist outside of dealing.

He’s seen it all, really. But you’re the one that’s got him bouncing his knee something fierce beneath the table and tapping his fingers against the rotted top of it while his heart races a million miles a minute.

He’s frightened of being too overeager. He’s scared that you’ll come here, all cool and collected about all of it, and he’ll be the freak show acting like a pretty girl’s never given him an ounce of attention before. They haven’t, but he’d rather not project that sort of disposition. Not to you, at least.

He guesses, more than anything, he’s just afraid of scaring you away.

So Eddie tries to keep the smile on his face hidden — not knowing that it’s your favorite part about him. He tries to be as stoic as possible. He wants to be this cool and mysterious and sexy guy he thinks you want, having no idea that you’d already fallen in love with him before he even realized he needed to be those things for you.

He’s just about able to wash away his grin when he sees you emerge from the woods and into the small clearing where the lone picnic table lives.

The pinky plaid skirt you wear rustles against your legs with the breeze, the pleated edges brushing against the skin of your thighs. You pair it with a white piece of Beatles merch that clings to your torso — and fuck he hates the Beatles, but you’re the prettiest thing his cynical eyes have ever seen.

He’s beaming at you before he even realizes it. And by the time he does, he doesn’t feel like the idiot he thought he would.

You’re both sporting matching grins, trying to hide them and failing miserably. His is pursed softly to the side and yours is pulled between your teeth.

You look like the rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, Eddie thinks to himself.

His eyes must be the golden of them, you conclude.

When you settle on the bench in front of him, you tuck your skirt neatly beneath you and focus on smoothing out than fabric rather than meet the boy’s gaze. You sport a meek smile and a pair of fidgeting hands that ache to touch him.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly.

He sees your face scrunch in embarrassment at how shy you sound, and the way you almost reach out for his hand but stop yourself just as quickly. He wishes you wouldn’t. He wishes you knew how perfect you were, even when you weren’t totally graceful.

“Hi,” he repeats with a mocking, but no less loving grin, tilting his head towards his shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know… overworked and underpaid,” you shrug. “Just the usual.”

You’re grateful for the small talk. It leaves little room for the awkwardness swimming in your belly. He doesn’t immediately mention what happened the last time you saw him, like people often do when they want to do it all over again. But he isn’t in a hurry to give you your weed so you’ll leave him alone either. That's what people usually do when they want nothing to do with you anymore.

It’s almost like it never happened.

Or rather, like it did, and he isn’t treating it like a spectacle.

It’s refreshing.

“Boss giving you a hard time?”

“Oh, always. I’m pretty sure that’s what he gets paid to do, actually.”

“Right,” he breathes out a laugh.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, just a blink of a second, but it’s noticeable. The sudden quiet floats on the cool breeze that ruffles Eddie’s wild hair and sends a shiver down your spine.

In a split-second decision, you decide not to deprive yourself of the urge to touch him. Partly to distract from the stillness, but mostly because the ache had reached a fever pitch.

You’re so enthralled by his hands resting upon the old wood — the veins that decorate the back of them like the roots of a tree, the way his fingers thrum to a beat only he can hear, and the rings that wrap around them.

“Is this new?” you wonder aloud. You take his wrist in one hand and trace the glinting silver on his pointer finger with the other. It’s the bony fingers of a skeleton curved to form a heart. He’s taped the sides to make it fit better. It didn’t belong to him before now.

Eddie watches, pleasantly surprised, as you dote on him.

Your eyes glitter golden beneath an early setting sun. They dance with amusement as your fingertip traces his heart-shaped ring. He smiles to himself and wonders how often you’re looking at his hands to notice he’s got a new ring on.

“Oh, yeah,” he shrugs. He plays it cool, like his heart isn’t thrumming like a hummingbird in his chest at your touch. “Got it a couple days ago at the thrift store outside of town. It was a whole seventy-five cents.”

“I like it. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” he repeats with a scrunched nose and blushing face.

It makes you giggle. “Yeah. You can be cute and badass at the same time, you know?”

“I didn’t know those were mutually exclusive.”

“They weren’t. Not until you came into the world, Eddie Munson.”

He feels cold when you drag your hand away. The kind, almost teasing grin you flash his way warms him all over again. He’s still trying to get used to being so loved on.

You can see the way he gets lost in you for a moment. His cinnamon-tinted gaze, made golden in the sunlight, glazes over as his head gets stranded in the clouds.

The only reason you notice it is because it happens to you. Eddie makes it so terribly easy to float in the deep galaxy of his eyes. Your heart swells to know that it’s happening to him now. Happening to him because he’s looking at you.

You didn’t know you were the kind of girl people could get lost in.

Eddie clears his throat and shakes his head, mostly to himself, but enough to jostle the soft curls that frame his face and sit above his eyes.

“Well, I’m honored, sweetheart,” he grins his signature grin, the bright and cocky one, though he’s too shy to make it reach his eyes now. He busies himself and his restless fingers by rifling through the product sitting in the tin box at his side — baggies full of green nuggets and white powdery pills.

“So, uh, what’s on the menu this week? The usual?”

“I’ve still got my stash from last week,” you confess. “Haven’t really had the time to smoke it yet.”

His eyes flit up to yours again. “…Yeah?” is all he can think to say to you because internally he’s buzzing — you didn’t even need weed, he thinks to himself, you just wanted to see him.

You only shrug. “I’ve just been, like, crazy busy this week.”

Eddie nods understandingly, but can’t help but to joke: “Is that why you haven’t called?”

Because, fuck, if the past couple of days without talking to you haven’t been complete and total agony. He knows it’s a little too brash and brave of him to wonder why you went AWOL when he hasn’t exactly made an effort to seek you out either.

Not for lack of wanting to, though. He’d like to put that on record.

“Well, I didn’t call because I don’t have your number,” you retort with a smile that toes the line between cunning and timidity. “So, you can’t really blame me for that.”

He huffs dramatically. “Guess not.”

“It’s probably for the best. If I could call you, I’d never leave you alone.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d want you to,” he dismisses your negative talk with ease.

You warm with his words and duck your gaze on instinct. You keep your eyes on your hands while you fidget with your fingers, wishing that they were his instead. “Just don’t want to bother you or whatever, you know?”

“You could never bother me.”

“Promise?” you ask him. Your smile is playful, but your words are sincere.

Eddie’s is much of the same. “Cross my heart.”

“How about this — I give you my number and you just call whenever you’re free,” you offer, more confident at the boy’s admission and glowing with it. “‘Cause, you know, Wayne probably wouldn’t appreciate me clogging up the phone line very much.”

“He wouldn’t notice… Or care,” he tells you and pulls out an old pen from his tin box. His sparkling deep brown eyes stay locked on you as you rise from your side of the bench and round the table to sit next to him.

You’re obviously not as nervous as he’d been at the trailer all those nights ago, when he had to practically be beckoned over to realize you wanted him beside you.

You sit opposite him, with your knees pointed away from the bench. You get to be closer to him this way. Your thigh presses against his as you twist towards him, your chest mere inches from his arm, your mouth even closer.

You write a series of numbers on his forearm that Eddie can’t make out because he’s too busy looking at you. He admires the frown between your brows as you struggle to get the ink to write and the way your lips purse to the side in concentration.

“Wayne would actually be pretty stoked I was talking to a girl—” he jokes with a laugh though he’s quick to cut himself off like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.

His admission was supposed to be funny, something the rest of Hellfire would’ve laughed at because they know him. But you don’t, and he doesn’t really want you to. You’ve already got this idea of him in your head. He lives in agony that he won’t be able to live up to it.

He’ll just have to fake it, he concludes. Fake it until he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t read into his words too much.

“He wants you to settle down, huh?” you joke back, half-distracted as you doodle a heart onto his skin.

“Wants me to move out, more like.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the bed.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, right. That old geezer’s practically in love with his Laz-E-Boy.”

He watches with glimmering eyes as you laugh. Then he’s smiling because you’re smiling. He isn’t sure how else he’s supposed to look at you. How could anyone possibly look at you and not hold so much love in their eyes?

You haven’t yet let go of his arm, he notices, as you cradle his wrist in your grasp and swipe your thumb over the blotchy blue veins there. Your gaze is pointed down to where you hold him. There’s a distant grin on your face as you admire such a minute piece of him.

He wants so badly to kiss you.

He could. All he’d have to do, really, is move his head a couple inches and he’d brush the apple of your cheek. The skin would warm against his lips until he ducked down to kiss you for real.

And he feels just bold enough to ask you, but not quite enough to say the words out loud. Instead, they sit impatiently on the edge of his tongue while he waits for the right moment to say them. The wind blows, and it passes.

“It wouldn’t be totally crazy if I kissed you right now, would it?” you ask him first, looking at him through your lashes like you’re scared he might reject you.

He glows pink, momentarily stunned that you beat him to the punch, then worried that you might’ve read his mind. He plays it cool with a shrug and a shake of his head. “No… Not unless it’s totally crazy how bad I want you to kiss me right now.”

You don’t waste any time. You gravitate towards him like you were made to do it and he meets you easily halfway.

When your lips lock, it feels like a routine. Kissing you is like a cup of coffee and the morning paper and a rocking chair on a front porch — something he could do forever and ever and not get bored of.

You kiss him so soft, more gentle than anyone’s ever been with him, but your tongue swipes into his open mouth, and it’s dirty.

Eddie still isn’t sure how a person could touch him the way you do. You’re all sweet, like you’re frightened you might break him, but you aren’t scared to kiss him like he’s yours.

As good as it feels to have him against you this way, the position you’re in isn’t any less awkward. Your upper-half is still twisted to face him and he has to lean slightly over to touch you completely.

He explores the cavern of your mouth with a more confident tongue than you remember him having while ten ringed fingers press into your ribs.

Eddie can feel your mouth contort in a smile. He thinks it’s because he’s tickling you, but you’re just in love and totally giddy with it.

The wooden edge of the bench digs into your spine. The ache distracts you from feeling him the way you want to — the way you need to — so you make a split-second decision to rise from your seat and rest your bottom on the table.

Your lips click wetly, almost out of protest, when they part.

You use the palms of your hands to lift you and prop your sneakers on the bench seat when you sit down again. You wait patiently for Eddie to accommodate you, to rise and keep kissing you the way he was just kissing you.

He does. Eventually.

He just needed a few moments to gather himself when your new position flashes him the faintest glimpse of your panties — all black and dotted with little red hearts that have started to fade with time.

His eyes widen and he everts his gaze immediately. His cheeks and the tip of his nose go red, like he’d been caught looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. It’s sort of stupid. You were getting off on his thigh some days ago, and now you’re kissing him like you mean to swallow him whole, surely you wouldn’t mind him peeking.

If he were someone totally different, he might’ve spread your legs, dug his fingers into the fat of your thighs, and put his mouth on you like he wanted to do three nights ago — like he’s been wanting to do for ages.

But he doesn’t.

He just sits there, for what feels like forever, feeling like a total idiot.

But if you notice his hesitancy, you don’t show it. You just cup his warm cheeks in your hands and drag him up to you. Eddie isn’t enough of a dumbass to reject your affections.

He happily melts into your touch once more while the both of you maneuver like a bunch of lovesick teenagers around the bench — rather than just part momentarily to move more efficiently.

You round the table so you’re propped on the outside of it and Eddie’s no longer confined in the seat. If making out and multitasking was an olympic sport, you and Eddie would take the gold, no doubt.

It’s hopelessly high school, the way you make out like teenagers in some clearing, known only to Eddie’s most loyal customers and a golden orange sky.

It feels rebellious and raunchy, like you’ve just snuck out of Mr. Kaminsky’s lecture on chemical bonds to fuck under the bleachers. You kiss each other and it feels like you’re doing something so much more than yourselves.

Eddie touches you and you feel like a kid again. Everything’s just new experiences and stomachs full of butterflies — heartache is virtually nonexistent.

As far as you’re concerned, you’ve never been kissed before now.

You had no idea someone could hold so much love in their mouth and then kiss you with it. You’re so used to tongue and teeth and spit, not these slow and sweet pecks that feel like white clouds and summer rain.

Every now and then, Eddie will slot his kiss-bitten bottom lip between the plush of your swollen mouth. And he’ll just stay there, for several long moments, just to feel you. His ringed fingers rise to cradle your jaw to keep you against him. His nose knocks against the bridge of yours and his heavy breaths fan against your cupid’s bow.

You’re not sure why he does this, why he chooses to be so soft with you when he knows he could have you however he wants. You’re a kitten purring against his chest now, all pliable and willing for him, but he just likes how still and soft you are like this.

You let him kiss you the way he likes. You notice he takes acute infatuation with your bottom lip, biting softly and pulling at the skin until it’s a plump pink thing for him to suck into his mouth.

Every swipe of his tongue against yours is experimental and methodical. He finds what makes you exhale the heaviest moans and keeps doing that until you’re a puddle of a woman in his hands.

Oh, god. His hands.

It’s almost unfair how kind they are.

One keeps a steady, warm hold on your cheek. He can feel the way you start to soften as you lean more and more into his touch. The other has fallen to your thigh. His fingertips settle beneath the skirt you picked out specifically for him, but don’t move any further than that.

He just likes the feel of you, it seems, as he pets the softness of your skin. Occasionally, he’ll squeeze and marvel at the feeling of your thigh in his grasp and the way it makes you moan against him. The feeling of his silver rings against you makes chill bumps erupt on your skin.

You’re unsure if he knows the effect he has on you. Surely, he must, you figure — just days ago you were falling apart on his thigh and here you are now, willing to do it all over again.

He touches you like he knows. Like he takes pleasure in teasing you until you’re all but begging for more. And you’re not the least bit ashamed to do it, either. His touch, his hand down your panties, it isn’t a want — it’s a need.

You take Eddie’s wrist in your impatient hand, moving his palm further and further beneath your skirt until it’s pressed against the dampening cotton of your underwear. “Touch me, Eds,” you plead against his mouth, already breathless.

The boy tenses.

It’s a dream come true in the most literal sense, to feel you like this. You cling to his consciousness wherever he goes. You’ve spent so many nights plaguing his dreams that they’ve started to feel like nightmares. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, achingly hard and shuddering with cold sweats at the mere thought that he’d never get to have you the way he always dreamt of having you.

But it’s here now, lying beneath a heart-patterned cloth, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He’s not scared of you exactly, just of everything else.

His hand has never gotten anyone off but himself. He’s scared that he won’t make you feel good, or worse, that he’ll hurt you — he’s scared of himself. He’s terrified of losing you and you’re not even his.

It’s everything else that frightens him, but not you. Not when you’ve got your legs spread out before him and begging him to touch you. Not when you act like you want to be his.

Rather than deprive himself of the dream of you, Eddie decides to hook his pointer finger around the hem of your panties and slide them to the side.

With your pussy concealed by the pleated skirt you wear, he’s forced to work blindly while he touches you. He doesn’t mind, though. He takes the opportunity to feel you as it’s presented to him on a silver platter — the softness of your lips, the trimmed mound of hair above them, the slick coating your warmed skin.

You feel like silk and velvet. A material that’s far too expensive to touch. It makes him feel like he’s ruining you in some way.

Eddie’s open-mouthed, heavy breaths fan against your lips, all nicotine and mint gum. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him — billowing across your jaw, pressed between your thighs, fingers treating your pussy like it’s a piece of delicate art.

“More,” you beg in a dream-coated sigh and spread yourself further for him. You’ve got one hand twisted in his leather jacket and the other flipping up the skirt of your dress, putting yourself on display for him — a piece of delicate art indeed.

You’re laid out before him, all at once, bare and glistening with need.

He’s seen plenty of vaginas in his time, usually photographed in a centerfold of a magazine or half-blurry through a botched VHS tape. But, for obvious reasons, you’re quite different.

You’re beautiful. The kind of beauty that men would’ve fallen on their swords for a time ago, the kind you’re lucky to see in a lifetime. That’s a bit what it feels like to look at you. He looks at you, and he sees a cotton candy sunset over mountains that touch the clouds or clear blue waters that go on for infinity.

Even like this, with your pussy on display for him — in a moment that’s supposed to be dirty — it’s a serene sort of beautiful. You need to be hung up in a museum, Eddie thinks to himself, in the Louvre or some shit — because a freak show from the middle of nowhere shouldn’t get to just have you like this.

He slots his middle finger between your lips, for once not overthinking when the urge to feel you takes over. You soak his appendage with ease, the slick only adding to your softness. He dips down to the dimple of your opening and rises to the peak of your swelling clit. He notices how it makes you twitch against him.

It feels like being you’re touched for the first time. Unfolded and cherished like some sort of expensive gift. You’re not used to this sort of tenderness. No one’s taken things this slow with you before. The way he’s making you feel good is for him just as much as it is for you. It’s unfamiliarly blissful to be handled with so much care.

Eddie watches with heavy and attentive eyes as your head tips back, like you’re starting to drown in your own pleasure and unbothered to keep yourself afloat. Your contented sighs and gentle tremors spur him forward. Those subtle praises almost equal the pleas that spill from your kissed mouth.

It makes him stop worrying about how to do all this without being totally obvious that he’s never done any of it before.

Everything he knows, he’s gotten from poorly produced porn. He doesn’t want to treat you like that. Like you’re some toy or plaything or a game to be won. He wants to take things slow and treat you right because it’s becoming more and more obvious to him that no one’s ever done that for you.

He’ll be your first, if you’ll be his.

He finds himself grateful for how responsive you are. He doesn’t need to know everything there is to know about sex or ask you for direction like an idiot because your pussy tells him what to do.

You tremble every time the pad of his finger swipes against your clit. He can feel you clench around nothing every time he dips towards your opening, as if in a silent plea. You tell him what you like without saying anything, but rather by drenching him in clear-coated honey.

His eyes have trouble flitting away from your pleasure-ridden face and down to where he coaxes you open. His finger glistens with your wetness. Beneath a setting sun, it looks like the sparkling rays over an ocean.

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost moaning. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Sorry…” you mutter meekly.

“What?” Eddie finds himself laughing softly, brows furrowing in confusion at your sudden embarrassment. That’s not the response he was expecting. “Why are you apologizing?”

Your skin burns hot at his question — no longer warmed from pleasure, but out of pure self-consciousness. It’s a conversation you’re used to now, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. With his finger still caught in your drenched pussy, you find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze and instead peer at him through your lashes.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Some guys think it’s gross… And messy—”

“Screw ‘em,” he blurts. His brown eyes twinkle with a newfound confidence, not one of the unabashed metalhead drug dealer, but one of a boy whose head over heels for a girl who doesn’t know what it means to be truly cared for. “It’s sexy,” he assures you.

A shy smile hints at the corners of your lips, innocently comforted by the promise and pleased by the compliment. “Really?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he tells you with a wholehearted nod. He means it more than anything he’s ever said. “Cross my goddamn heart.”

He leans in to press his lips against yours then, just because it feels right to, and you graciously accept his affection.

Eddie’s kisses come in innocent, loving pecks that are far too sweet in comparison to the way he’s making you feel. His finger traces the slick gathering at your opening, not having to force his way in because your pussy is more than wanting.

Both of you let out low moans when he’s finally inside of you. He doesn’t stop until the silver of his ring is pressed into the outside of your pussy.

You’re wrapped around him like velvet, warm and tight velvet that won’t let him go. He works hard to find a steady rhythm that you like and watches your every reaction intently.

You’ve got your lip dragged between your teeth, biting so hard that the fragile skin has started to blanch. Your eyes have fluttered slowly shut with a frown forming between your brows in a vague concentration as you focus on your own pleasure.

You seem to like it most when he’s crooking his finger rather than thrusting them inside of you. At least, that’s what he assumes, as he reaches a much softer spot within you that makes you jolt against him.

Your hand darts to his wrist, not to tug him away or pull him any closer, just to tether yourself to him.

“Can you— fuck—” you sputter when the palm of his hand bumps against your clit. “Can you add another finger? Please?”

You’re all whiny and breathy like you’re begging him, like there’s any chance he might deny you. Eddie’s not exactly in the business of saying no to you.

He slides his ring finger in with his middle. He marvels at how snugly they fit inside you and how the sticky nectar coats his skin. Your wetness has gathered around his silver rings, including the one with the skeleton hand you were complimenting earlier.

He doesn’t ever want to wash them again... Not that he ever did in the first place, but he makes a vow not to start now.

Eddie doesn’t know it, but this is the part where you usually get embarrassed. Sometimes you think you’re too sensitive, too responsive. You’ve found that there’s a threshold between being sexy and being needy that most guys tend to enjoy. But, for you, it's a finicky thing and you find yourself crossing it before you realize it.

You moan too loud, talk too much, whine too often. Nearly everyone you’ve ever been with has said so in some way or another — mostly in gentle approaches that are observations more than anything. But some boys aren’t so nice. They say that you get too turned on, the wetness coating your pussy is evidence of that, and they tell you that’s it’s gross.

But here, now, with Eddie, there’s little room for embarrassment.

He tells you that you’re pretty, swears up and down that the way your slick trickles down his fingers is sexy. And for the first time in your life, you find yourself actually believing someone who tells you that.

You let him pry you open with slow and meticulous touches. You can feel his bent fingers deep inside you, exploring the slick velvet of your walls, and rubbing at the spot that makes you keen. It’s got your back arching and thighs trembling by his waist, toes curling inside your sneakers while you keep a tight grip on his wrist.

“Rub my clit, Eds,” you plead breathlessly with your eyes shut tight. You’re about to come, you can feel the tightening coil in the pit of your belly, you just need a little bit more. “Please, Eddie— please, touch my clit—”

He’s hasty in his attempts to comply to your request. He barely lets the words leave your mouth before he presses the pad of his thumb just above the hood of your clit. And it doesn’t feel bad per se, it actually feels pretty damn good, it’s just not where you need him most.

It’s not the first time a guy’s had trouble finding your clit and you figure it won’t be the last, so you opt guide him with a helping hand. You maneuver his thumb until it’s pressed snuggly against your swollen button.

Eddie watches attentively as it makes you whine. You arch your back, pressing yourself further against him, as a moan rises from the depths of your chest and spills out of your mouth. You pull him somehow closer by the lapel of his jacket.

He takes every unspoken criticism to heart, along with every one of your wordless praises. His acute attention to what you like the most — how his thumb on your clit makes you clench around him, how you moan every time he rubs against that foreign spongy spot inside of you, and how he keeps on doing that because he can tell that you like it — sends you to an otherworldly place pleasure.

It’s different from guys that are just good from experience. Most do the same old shit that gets their girl off because they know they’ll get off in the end, too.

Eddie’s attentiveness is unfamiliar and spellbinding, all-consuming and unavoidable. A pleasure you’re both chasing and wanting to run away from out of fear it might be too much.

“Is this okay?” he whispers to you, breath fanning across your cheek.

You nod wordlessly in reply, with your lip caught between your teeth as you fight to bite back the cry building in your throat. It’s hard to when he’s so intently hitting every spot that makes you dizzy. The moan that inevitably spills from your mouth sounds wet, like you might really start to cry.

“Fuck,” you wail when your stomach tenses. His fingers, deep in the confines of your pussy and rubbing at your clit, are relentless. Pleasure’s biting at your ankles now and you have no way to stop it from swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Eds—”

Your mouth hangs open as you drop your head down to watch him work you open.

His ringed fingers are coated with you, a sheen of honey that drips down his fingers and onto the silver wrapped around them. You’re hopelessly spread open for him, your pussy blooming like a flower at the promise of springtime for the boy, and then tightening around him to keep him trapped inside you.

It’s dirty, like a lewd piece of art that you can’t help but gawk out.

You fight to keep your heavy eyes open. You want to watch what he’s doing to you, but it’s a harder feat than you could’ve ever imagined. Pleasure rises so violently in you. You’re frightened you might burst entirely.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper. It’s a warning to you but for him, it’s a promise. Your head tilts back again, face scrunched in a gentle sort of horror, like you’re scared at how good you feel. “Please don’t stop. Oh my god, Eds— Please don’t stop. Please, please, please—”

Eddie presses a gentle kiss to the buzzing skin of your cheek. He whispers his slurred promises there, too. “I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart. Not gonna stop until you want me to, ‘kay? Not until you’re pushing me away. Wanna make you come so many times you can’t take it—”

You clenched around him at his words. His fingers, trapped in your velvet, struggle to move within you as you tighten. The thumb on your clit works you through your orgasm.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent moan while your hand grips his wrist something fierce. Pleasure builds and builds and builds, striking you like lightning so suddenly, and reducing you to a shuddering mess on the picnic table in front of him.

“There you go,” Eddie whispers in your ear through his own trembling breaths. “Yeah, keep going for me— keep coming.”

You comply.

You don’t have much of a choice in the matter, anyway.

Your orgasm runs over you like a dozen fucking freight trains. You’re caught in your own riptide of pleasure, drowning in it with no way of getting out. With no choice but to endure it, you whine and writhe against him while his hand stays trapped between your trembling thighs. It forces you to feel all of it until you can’t take it anymore. Just like he promised.

The pleasure passes. The vice-like grip your pussy had on his fingers lessens. The high fades. But Eddie keeps going. You don’t feel much of it at first, still pleasantly numb and buzzing, then you realize how sensitive you are.

He crooks his fingers faster, rubbing against the swollen spot inside you, while the pad of his thumb presses steadily against your clit.

You’re sloppy and wet and still gushing from the fading orgasm. A second one wouldn’t be too hard to reach, not with Eddie touching you the way he is just now, but you’re scared that it might be too much.

The I can barely see, we need to lay down a towel, hold me while I float into subspace sort of too much.

“Mm-mm,” you hum softly in protest, twitching against him while you squeeze his wrist. You feel his fingers still within you.

A lazy smile plays on your lips as you tilt your face towards an orange sun, all fucked out and beautiful. Eddie could stare at you for ages and find something new to love.

“No more. I need… Need a break.”

You shudder when his fingers drag slowly out of you, trying hard not to jostle you too much. The pads of them have started to prune slightly. His ring and middle finger stick together with a mixture of your come, he separates them to watch your honey stretch and break apart.

He doesn’t know what to do with them. If he should wipe them on his jeans, or if that would be too barbaric of him. If he should stick them in his mouth to finally get a taste of you, or if you might think that’s too much.

You beat him to the punch, just like you always do, as you grab him by the wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. Your eyes are still half-closed as you run your tongue over his skin, sucking at them like they were his cock — god, he wishes it were his cock.

He watches you with his own heavy gaze and an agape plump pink mouth, stunned at how you could do something so sexy without thinking. He has no idea how you manage to find ways to become more beautiful just when he thinks you’ve run out.

When you pull off of him, you do it all slow, like you’re teasing him. A soft, wet pop sounds when your lips leave his fingers. You smile like a fucking minx at him when you do.

“Was that— Was that good for you?” Eddie asks you with a nervous, doe-eyed chocolate button gaze. You’re unsure how he could make you feel so good and then worry that it still wasn’t enough.

“It was perfect, Eds,” you promise, then joke: “If you don’t believe me… believe the wet spot you made me leave on this fucking table.”

It makes both of you laugh like a pair of lovesick idiots.

Your hands rise to his jaws, fingers getting lost in his wild curls as you drag him to you again.

He keeps a pair of steady hands on your hips as you lick hungrily into his mouth, kissing him like you haven’t gotten tired of kissing him yet. And when you part, you leave one, two, three more pecks against his lips.

“So… This is what you came out here for, huh?” Eddie jokes with his signature stupid grin that you want to kiss all over again. “You didn’t even want the weed, you just wanted to use me. I’m wounded, sweetheart. Truly.”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Came out here to see you… This part was just a bonus.”

He happily accepts the kiss you give him, though he tenses against you when your hands travel from his jaw and to his chest, trickling down his torso like drops of rain until they rest on his belt.

“Something tells me you don’t mind either way,” you murmur against him when your palm settles against his hard cock trapped in his tight jeans.

He can hardly hear you, though, too trapped in his own head.

He can’t fuck you out here, not like this.

Maybe it’s too stereotypical for a virgin, but he wants his first time with you to be on a real bed and not some bench that threatens you with splinters. He wants to wine and dine you, and treat you right like he’s supposed to, not fuck you in the middle of nowhere like you’re a plaything he can do whatever he wants with.

But he doesn’t know how to tell you all this, so he parts from you with a wet click and shakes his head. “You don’t— You don’t have to—”

“I want to, Eds,” you assure him. “I promise.”

“I can’t… I mean, I guess, I’m not really…” he stammers out. He has no idea what to say to you, totally at a loss of how to turn you down. The way you clutch his covered dick, make his toes curl in his sneakers and his brain go all stupid, doesn’t exactly help either.

“What?” you tease with a light-hearted chuckle as you squeeze his rock-solid cock through the denim. “Not really hard?”

“No, it’s just…” he breathes out a laugh, or rather tries to.

He watches with wide and frightened eyes as you work at his belt buckle, struggling to unfasten it without his assistance. There’s a tug-of-war playing in his brain right now, because he wants you — he wants you so bad — but not like this.

Not when he hasn’t been completely honest with you.

It’s not fair to either of you.

Least of all when he has to turn you away without explaining why.

“I don’t think we— we really shouldn’t,” he tries to let you down easy, but to you it just sounds like he’s being coy, playing with you so you’ll beg to suck his cock. And you keep on going because you’re not totally above that. “No, really. I can’t— seriously, stop. We need to stop.”

The sudden firmness in his voice makes you still. Eddie’s never talked to you like that before. The stern, foreign words he spits at you tells you that he’s serious.

You jerk away from him like he’s burned you.

Embarrassment sets fire to your face.

“Sorry. I just— I thought that— I just wanted to return the favor,” you stammer out in an apology, frightened you’ve crossed a line with him.

No one’s ever turned down a blowjob from you before. Most times, that’s all guys want.

“No, yeah, I know,” Eddie nods understandingly when he sees how you’ve started to shrink into yourself. He steps back from you and tucks his belt back through the loop of his jeans “I just… I— I have more customers coming… And everything, so…”

“Right.”

“Yeah. And I don’t really, you know— I don’t want them to see…” he trails off with a shrug because that’s easier than saying, I don’t want them to see you sucking my dick. No one deserves to see you like that. That’s for my eyes only.

It would’ve been something short of a compliment had he said it out loud. You would’ve blushed with a shy, cheeky smile — “For your eyes only, huh?” you would’ve teased like you weren’t enlightened by the prospect of belonging to him and him only.

But because he doesn’t say that, you take on a whole other meaning to his words. I don’t want them to see me with the town whore, you can imagine him thinking. I might be the freak, but being associated with the slut would be a whole new low.

Maybe it’s irrational thinking, but it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to you. The fear has turned into a full-blown phobia.

You’ve made a boogeyman out of the clothes in your closet because you’re so frightened of him leaving you. And he doesn’t even fucking belong to you.

“Right,” you echo with a nod. “Okay.”

You find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze as you slip off the bench, sliding your panties back into place before pulling your skirt down again.

You’re so deep in your own head, wallowing in your woe, that when Eddie leans down to kiss you, you jerk away from on instinct. Like your body’s telling you not to play with fire, something that’s destined to burn you.

Because Eddie can’t ever belong to you. In some ways, you can’t really belong to him either, not when you’ve belonged to half of Hawkins.

But your wordless rejection sends a shock to his heart, a bolt of blue that pierces the beating organ. Your denial feels like heartbreak and you can see the anguish coat his features. He looks at you look a wounded puppy, glassy eyes going wide and thick brows frowning softly as he wonders what he did so wrong.

You kiss him anyway, if only to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong — that it’s all you and your stupid brain that won’t let you enjoy a good thing while you’ve got it. It’s the briefest little peck, a brush of your lips against his, and it has his mouth tingling anyway.

“I’ll call you later?” he says to you, though it comes out as more of a question than he intended it to.

You shrug with pursed lips, then try your best to smile. “Whatever you want.”

Eddie watches you walk away and feels like an idiot to let you go.

He can tell that he’s upset you. You’ve had too many shitty experiences with guys not to be weary of another, and he knows that.

But he also knows he’s a total fucking coward — he’s always ran away from things, never towards something. Because that shit? — That shit was fucking scary, even for a so-called devil-worshipping freak.

But he finds himself hurrying towards you anyway.

His raggedy sneakers practically float on air as something short of muscle memory carries him towards you before you can get too far away.

And when he reaches you, he takes you by the arm, spins you and pulls you towards him. You barely get the chance to blink before he presses his mouth against yours.

He cradles you by the neck, resting large palms on either side of it, as he slots his lips against yours. And he does that thing where he just rests his kiss there, just feels you.

Eddie notices when you relax against him. You sigh against his cupid’s bow, your hands fall to his waist, and you melt totally into him. Your lips untangle slowly and tingle when he parts from you. You know you’ll be feeling him there all night… there and everywhere else.

“I’m gonna call you later,” he tells you, voice confident and unwavering.

He hopes you understand what he really means by them — whatever you want, you’d said when you saw how unsure he was. And now he’s telling you what he wants, not to make some stupid phone call, but that he wants you.

He can tell you get the hint when you smile at him. It looks like the pinky-orange sunset that bathes you in warm-colored hues.

You nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #virgin!eddie munson x reader #published by bug

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elekinetic · 1 year

Text

mike,

hey asshole. maybe that's a shitty way to start a letter, sorry. i'm pretty on edge. obviously. getting stalked by a psycho maniac with powers will do that to you.

this is weird. i don't really know what to say. not exactly a letter i thought i'd ever be writing, but—despite it all—we're friends, so you deserve closure.

i don't think you and i ever really clicked. not the way i thought we might've when we met. and i get it, between will and el and everything that was happening with the mindflayer, i get why you didn't want some random girl coming in and messing everything up. i think we're the same in that way, with change. i don't like it. i can tell you don't either.

i don't know how to say this without sounding pathetic, but. hey. if you're reading this, i'm dead, so you if you think i'm lame then you're a total shithead.

i wanted you to like me. and that's so stupid because like, you're you. c'mon. but i wanted to be a part of what you had. i think it was because i was jealous of you. you had this like, perfect family with a perfect older sister and perfect friends and not in that like, superficial-high-school-way, like, actual, real friends who care about each other. and you just walked around like you didn't know how lucky you were. like, i know why now, i do. i get it. it was just so hard to watch you get everything i wanted and not even think twice about it, and then slam the door in my face every chance you got.

and calling me annoying was kind of a bitch move.

whatever.

i know this year has sucked for you too. i don't know everything about your relationship with el, and you and will are a web of shit i don't even want to try to untangle... but i know it's been hard. i'm not exactly in a position to be giving life advice (ha), but again. i'm dying, probably, so. listen up wheeler.

you have to talk to her. and shut up, i know what you're thinking. it's different. or maybe it's not, but it doesn't matter. i don't have time to fix my shit. you do, so you better fucking do it.

i know you love el. and i know i don't talk to her as much as i should, and she knows i'm sorry. (for what it's worth, i'm not gonna stop being sorry) but she deserves better than whatever bullshit is going on between the two of you right now. and you'll get through it, because you'll finally talk to her and actually say what you're thinking instead of assuming you already know how she'll react, because you don't. but someday you guys are gonna have another argument, and you're gonna fix it before it gets out of hand, do you hear me? she deserves honesty.

you have to trust her. you have to trust her. you think you're protecting her, and sometimes it works, but it's not fair. she's not someone who needs protecting or hiding or teaching. and listen to me, its not because she can do shit with her mind, okay? it's because she's her own person who is smart and capable and strong in like, a human way. you have to know that, you have to understand that.

just... understand that.

i haven't done the best job of showing it, but i do care about you. you're my friend, and i hope... i hope you're able to find happiness. like, real, lasting, forever-type shit. you deserve it. seriously.

okay. i'm running out of space and i still have like, seven letters to write. i don't know why i thought it would be a good idea to do separate notes for everyone. I should've just done one page that said "see you later, assholes." that would've been smarter. quick, sweet, to the point. i mean, i was never the writer of the group. maybe if i'd done that, you guys would just know what i needed to say. four easy words. maybe you guys would understand the shit that i can't write down.

anyway.

see you later, asshole.

— max

p.s. watch out for lucas. please.

#ficlet #madwheeler #max mayfield #mike wheeler #byler if you squint #ella's writing prose

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daegall · 9 months

Text

Bewitched.

pairing: bf!mark x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship!AU, college!AU

warnings: mentions of cheating (a past relationship)

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: happy late mark day!!!!!! our watermelon boy deserves the whole world <3 wrote a little drabble a little too late, so I hope you'll forgive me for that (had a very busy first few weeks of school!!) anw, other than this, i think im gonna start of my spidermark fic!!! (if i get motivation lol) i hope you guys enjoy <3

networks/taglist: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @kflixnet @nct-writers @k-radio + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy @justalildumpling <3

🎧 :: Bewitched (Laufey)

The last time you dated someone was in your junior year of high school, before swearing off boys after the boy you had been with cheated on you. Plus, you needed the extra hours to get ready for all your AP exams and your final year of high school.

But now, you find yourself in your second year of college, and with another guy.

Mark Lee is unlike any guy you've ever met in your whole life. Who could be so human, yet so flawless? He was so raw and was never afraid to show himself to anyone, and god knows he was the one to make the first move. How could you ever, after being date-less for more than 2 years?

Nonetheless, you find your rhythm with him quickly, naturally, everything falling into place as if it's always supposed to be like this.

And here you are, walking in the lonely streets of the city, clock indicating you've been out long after the curfew you had given yourself in the beginning of the year.

Fuck that curfew, because you would trade anything for this moment, laughing at Mark's lame dad joke, bumping your shoulder with his.

It's been so long since you've felt so genuinely happy with someone, someone you could be yourself around and not be scared, someone who could match your energy just as easily.

Mark plays the guitar. He showed you on your second date, when he came back from a tutor session (he teaches kids, for fucks sake! He's perfect!) and was fully willing to play a few songs of your choice. That was the first time you felt fully comfortable with him, and felt okay to be yourself around him.

He likes watermelons. He adores watermelons, more than he should. On a random hang out to the local market, Mark unintentionally charmed up one of the store ladies, running his mouth on and on about how much he loves watermelons, eventually ending up in getting a free watermelon. You found the way he grinned and cradled the watermelon adorable.

Mark takes his time.

'It's better that way, kinda like fermentation, you know?'

You get what he meant just a little bit, but with every moment spent by his side, you completely understand. He takes time to write his songs, even when he gets a surge of inspiration in the middle of the night, staying up until 5 in the morning just for 1 verse.

Another thing he claims he wants to take his time on, is your relationship. He had asked to be your boyfriend about a month into your little situationship, and he does not rush into things.

It's a nice change of pace, you admit. The 2 other guys you had been with both definitely rushed into things very fast, and you felt way too overwhelmed by the speed. With Mark, you don't have to worry. He'll wait for you.

When you had asked him for the reason he would even try waiting, your heart seemed to be plucked from your chest, taken into the warm and (not so) safe hands of Mark Lee.

'The best things are worth waiting for. You're worth waiting for.'

And now here you are, and you want to savor each moment spent next to Mark, taking your time.

He's walking you back to your apartment, after a date to the movies. You barely even paid attention, you really were just there for the popcorn and soda, and maybe just a little cuddle with Mark.

"Thanks for tonight, Mark," You mumble with a smile as you two halt in front of your apartment lobby. He beams at you, grinning.

"Thank you too, Y/n, I really liked tonight,"

He looks absolutely dreamy right now. So cozy with his sweater and baggy jeans, the genuinely smile tugging at his lips, the sparkle in his eyes. You continue to observe him, not wanting to let go of the oddly intimate moment.

He seems to think the exact same thing, reaching out to take your hand in his, swinging it side to side as his gaze shifts from your eyes, to different parts of your face, and back to your eyes.

Mark's thumb stokes across the back of your palm, and it's like a spell, disabling you from taking a single step away from him. He's got you bewitches, and you don't mind one single bit.

Finally, be breaks the spell, tugging you closer to wrap his arms around your waist. Your own automatically circle around his shoulders, hands settling for the hairs on the back of his neck, playing with the strands, just like how he always asks you to do.

"Call me once you get to your room, okay?" He murmurs with a smile, tilting his head to the side. He's got an adoring look on his face, entranced.

"I promise, Mark." You respond, taking one hand back to hold your pinky up, urging him to do the same.

That's exactly what he does, taking his hand off your waist to wrap his pinky around yours gently. "Good."

With one more sway of your intertwined fingers, you pull away, slowly, as if to remember every little detail. "I better go to my room now then, huh?"

"You do that,"

After what seemed like hours, you peel away from each other, parting. There's no sadness, not a single bittersweet smile, because you know he'll be there for you, always. As you will be for him as well.

"Goodnight, Mark!"

He simply waves as he watches you walk away little by little, each step resonating through his ears, along with his heartbeat.

Mark Lee likes to take his time. He's always preached this. But now, as you walk away, it's like his clock quickens a tenfold, and you have a string to his heart, tugging on it.

Before he knows it, Mark's reaching out, jogging slightly, calling out your name. "Y/n!"

You feel confusion flood over you at the sudden call of your name, turning to reply, but you don't even get to. Mark has his arms around you, leaning into you, as his lips place against yours clumsily.

'Take your time,' you've always told yourself. And yet, you don't even waste a second to reciprocate the kiss, head tilting to the side with a sigh.

'Take your time,' Mark remembers saying over and over again. He's wanted to kiss you for months, he's taken his time, and it feels perfect. He knows its perfect as his lips part to deepen the kiss, he knows there's nothing better as his hand cradles your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist.

You know as well, as your knees grow weak, as your lips smile against one another, as he leans in for yet another kiss as you pull away, chuckling into his skin.

And when you pull away, Mark Lee looks even dreamier than before, if it was even possible. He's got a goofy smile on his lips, the lips that had just kissed yours, his eyes shining with nothing but absolute pure love for you.

"Goodnight," He mumbles.

"Goodnight," You echo back, smiling at him. "a-and, thank you,"

Mark chuckles, shaking his head, as he pulls away from you, stroking your cheek one more time. "Hey, can we make this a thing now? Can I get a goodnight kiss every time I walk you back after a date?"

"Go home, Mark! It's late!" You push him away playfully, shooing him away.

"Fine, fine!" He throws his hands up in a surrender. He has an awfully boyish smile on his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief. "We'll see tomorrow, after I take you home after our date, right?"

Mark Lee has you bewitched.

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filmbyjy · 11 months

Text

TWITTER SUCKS! > thirty-five! my other half

synopsis > who knew you could become famous overnight for paying $8 for a single blue checkmark? however, it does come with consequences…what happens when the actual BELIFT Lab comes knocking at your door. all because you simply impersonated your bias.

masterlist | previous | end

a/n: i am so sorry this took soooo long but i was procrastinating and i was mentally recuperating. blaming my studio project for this 😍 this is the final chapter of TWITTER SUCKS! it's also a little chaotic and honestly have a feeling i lost my writer's touch since i haven't wrote in a long time. however, thank you for joining me on this ride and sticking around till the end! I will be coming back with more writings and hopefully continuing with the series that I had before! of course, the new smau that will come out eventually ‘Collie Duty’ which I have no plans to release just yet😪 but it will be released maybe in the second half of 2023!

[placing this in case the read more messed up]

who knew after an incident that so happened to go viral. to the point where you were kidnapped and threatened to be sued by BELIFT, would actually get you to meet lee heeseung and be his girlfriend.

the past 7 months you could never have thought that. it had only been 7 months but it felt like a whole year when it happened. somehow it felt nostalgic looking back the tweets you had. it was hectic. complete 0.01% chance of this happening to anyone in the world. yet, somehow you were blessed to have gone through this.

you managed to steal heeseung’s heart. you made new friends but they’re actual idols (read: enhypen). you became famous. fought a company for a stupid reason which was that you were impersonating their idol. you even kicked a creepy staff out of BELIFT! which, you weren’t surprised. she’s a sasaeng at this point. maybe worse.

but oh my god, dating lee heeseung. it’s such a blessing-

“princess?” heeseung waves his hand in front of you. “are you having an inner monologue or something?” he snorts.

you rolled your eyes, “do you never have an inner monologue?”

“no? why would I?”

“lame. you ain’t in your main character era.”

“princess, I’m always the main character and you know it.” he smirks. you shoved him lightly.

“god, you’re starting to sound like sunghoon.”

“hmm, it’s as if I haven’t been living with him for the past 3 years.” he says with sarcasm.

“did you and sunoo have some sass off or something? why are you so sassy today?”

“sorry, I just don’t understand why some ENGENEs don’t appreciate the dancers’ hard work. I mean I get they’re girls but fucking hell, we’re just dancing to the choreo given to us.”

“well, do you want my honest opinion?”

“oh are you jealous too, princess?” he smirks a little.

“yeah, I am but i’m jealous of you. not the dancers. they’re hot. do you have their numbers by the w-”

“no. I don’t text the dancers so you can’t have their numbers.” he sulks.

“aww, is my little heeseung angy.” you cooed at heeseung. he huffs.

“angy isn’t even a word.”

“in my books it is and besides you’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“pfftt why would I be mad. I know it’s just a dance, you’ve practiced this for months. which makes it even better for the chemistry.”

“yeah but my part has you know…”

“what? her just literally trailing her hands on your arms? I mean it did get me jealous but at the end of the day, who are you kissing?” you smirked.

“you…” heeseung pouts.

“exactly.” you smiled. “i’m not worried about you cheating on me, heeseung. besides, I don’t think you could cheat on me because you love me too much.”

“you’re right.” heeseung grabs your hand and squeezes it. “I love you too much for that.”

“that’s my boy.” you proudly say.

meanwhile, on the other side of the wall.

“jayyyyy.” mae whines. jay smirks.

“what is this? my girlfriend is acting all whiny? it’s like you and (name) noona switched bodies.”

“urghh i’m sorry i’m having period cramps.” mae complains. jay’s eyes widened.

he gasps, “my queen is in pain? oh my god, let me go grab tons of period care things!” jay runs out of the room.

there was a scream across the hall.

“YAHHH NISHIMURA RIKI!!! DID YOU USE MY FACIAL WASH???” subin yells.

there were a couple of haste footsteps, which only meant…

“NOONA WAIT!” ni-ki yells out. let's all pray for ni-ki that he gets out alive safely.

"YAH YAH! break it up!" jungwon yells.

both you and heeseung could hear the commotion in the background but you could careless about what was going on because...

"it's you and me against this world, princess." heeseung purrs.

"are you trying to seduce with 'Bite Me' or something?" you deadpans.

"what? no-" heeseung sighs. "forget it. I was just being romantic."

you narrowed your eyes at heeseung, "anyways, i heard you guys are gonna start with world tours soon."

"ah, right. the 'fate' world tour. will you be watching it?"

"do you think i'm made of money? heeseung, i'm a broke college student."

"you have a job?"

"a mere cafe job. that's gonna take me months to save up. i could even barely afford to buy the ‘Dark Moon’ album.” you huffed.

“aww, princess. you have me, I could’ve gotten the albums for you for free and I could’ve thrown my photocards in there for extras.” he pinches your cheeks.

"now where is the fun in that? i like the surprise element of opening albums."

"and if you don't get any of my photocards?" heeseung folds his arms.

"then too bad. oh right, i saw jay looking sooo hot in that vampire photocard-"

heeseung shuts you up with a kiss. there were screams at the door and they were both from jake and sunghoon. you couldn't fully make out what they were saying. something about how mae and jay were busy being chummy, sunoo and subin pinching each others cheeks and then kissing each other.

you couldn't bother to focus on them. not when you have such a hot boy kissing you right on the lips. the same hot boy who was also your boyfriend.

and you couldn't ask for anything better than this.

you were happy.

series taglist[closed]: @lovers-szn @shiguresohmas @moonshoon @byunappetit @strvlveera @rikisly @4lythe @lalalalawon @beansworldsstuff @enhastolemyheart @jaehaki @shinsou-rii @jeanbob @sxftiell @renchai @nyfwyeonjun @invusblog @lhees01 @donghyckl @enhafika @dimplewonie @foxsunoo @run2-gyu @lvrjjun @curly-fr13s @bubblytaetae @raikea10 @ce1ight @luvlee1313 @rizzshimura @soobisrealgfnotfake @stantxtorurmissingout @l0tisflower @jseobsky @lovelickiez @liliansun @kyanmeai @nobodyshallenter @faeryhee @pkjay @mlink64 @luxurystark-jackson @aleombre @yenqa @heestrawberries @soaen @ckline35 @http-gyu @climbingmandevillas @stopeatread @y4wnjunz @aetherlol @whippedforbeomgyu @elisabeth-02

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chaifootsteps · 3 months

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man five years waiting for a letdown the finale is so underwhelming? Disappointing? I just feel empty. Like Scott pilgrim takes off also had 8 episodes but they somehow accomplished so much more in 8 episodes and the final fight was built up properly. Hazbin was just 8 episodes of nothing it just feels like their rushing to get to the songs and broadway talent which they’re nice but after awhile they feel interchangeable and comes out one ear and goes out the other. Idk if give it 6/10. Charlie is by far my least favorite character she’s doesn’t do anything and is babied all the time.

Vaggie is disappointing because she has a lot going for her but her reveal was so rushed and added nothing to her character. I feel like in the hands of a capable writer Vaggie and Charlie relationship could’ve been interesting if the delved into toxic co-dependency since they are way to dependent on eachother but it’s framed as health and cute Alastor is kinda lame but also interesting or at least the deal he’s trapped in and wants to be free from (hmm almost like him and another character that’s trapped in a shitty deal that also wants his freedom have a lot more in common)

Keith David carries Husk because husk is just there? Like he doesn’t add anything except being ship fodder

Angel is ok I guess like I just feel sorry that he’s someone’s rape fetish. He’s just a nice guy that likes sex jokes

Nifty is adorable but I was seething that she was the one to kill Adam this is almost as bad as GoT when Arya killed the night king. Just two separate characters they never crossed path or were part of each other storylines. I don’t care about sir pentious I still don’t but now knowing was just created to make fun of DC is poetic af since now he’s the most loved character in fandom

Adam was the worst villain like he wasn’t even a love to hate type villain he was pathetic

I honestly don’t even know why Cherri was in the finale when she just showed up one episode tried to get Angel to do drug and got pissy when he didn’t want too and ignored sir pentious but he has two dicks so now she’s all game. I hate her voice so much, just hire an Australian actor or better yet don’t recast Krystal because Krystal was great but too bad for her she wasn’t a Broadway actor, shoot better luck next time Krystal

I hope Krystal keeps finding better and better projects. She's too good for this show, and for Viv.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post #hazbin hotel critical

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canonmisogynyvictimstournament · 8 months

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PROPAGANDA

ATHENA CYKES (ACE ATTORNEY)

1.) Despite supposedly being the MAIN CHARACTER of the game she was introduced in, she somehow still always ends up playing second fiddle to Phoenix and Apollo, to the point where she isn't allowed to take the lead on even so much as a single case. Instead of the senior lawyers standing to the side in a mentorship role like they do for literally EVERY OTHER PLAYABLE CHARACTER, Phoenix and Apollo keep stepping in to outright take over for her. She literally does not make it through even a single case without needing some male character or other to swoop in and hold her hand every step of the way, not only Phoenix and Apollo but once even Blackquill, her rival prosecutor, as well.

Why? It has nothing whatsoever to do with her competence level. It's a video game; her competence is determined by the player's, just like everybody else. It seems like the writers just couldn't STAND the thought of her doing anything on her own, or thought that the players would walk out en masse if it wasn't the Phoenix and Apollo Show every second of gameplay. (And yeah, it DOES sometimes take me some time to warm up to new characters, but that was the case for Apollo too! At least give me the CHANCE to judge her on her own merits rather than assuming that I'll immediately write her off!) Like, why did you even WRITE this character if you think so little of her?

2.) WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN. She's introduced in the middle of a male characters "trilogy" (Apollo justice) so the story is never about her. She appears in aa5 only to NEVER headline her own case IN HER INTRODUCTORY GAME and always fail unless a man comes in and saves her. Her own story is sidelined for Apollos. Next game, she only really appears in one case that's a throwaway and still can't do shit on her own. Ugh. She deserved to be treated better, more competent, etc.

3.) my girl is an attorney and a practicing psychologist at age 18 (youngest defense lawyer in the series) & is often shown to be more competent than her male colleagues, and yet is constantly pushed out/sidelined/generally treated like an assistant character rather than a lawyer (the assistant position in these games is usually reserved for characters who don't have law degrees/are generally not educated enough to understand the courtroom proceedings to their full extent. athena is none of those things but she gets treated the same way by the game because. well. we know why.) Instead of being the main playable attorney in her debut game, the story is taken over by her male colleague (WHO ALREADY HAD A WHOLE GAME DEDICATED TO HIS BULLSHIT BTW) & her development is ignored in favor of his in both her debut game AND her second game. Even when her backstory IS explored it's done via a male family friend of hers, meaning even when her OWN story is being told it's not even about her it's about simon's lame ass. for extra context here in her debut game she is only the playable attorney in one case out of five, while the other (male) playable attorneys were playable in all or all-but-one of the cases in THEIR debut games. capcom hates women sooooo bad

CARMELITA MONTOYA FOX (SLY COOPER)

1.) Carmelita has always been portrayed as a sexy badass, but the fourth game in the series does her dirty. Throughout the game she’s given the “bitchy ex-girlfriend” treatment and is always regarded as an unreasonable nag. In addition, they put her in an impractical miniskirt (previous games had her in pants), and there is a minigame where she is forced to dress like a belly dancer to distract some guards (including prompting the player to have her shake her ass for extra coins) and when she complains about this, nobody listens to her, and is then reduced to the damsel in distress in the final act of the game, when previously she has always been a major help in taking down the final boss. While not the main reason a lot of Sly Cooper fans hate this game, it’s certainly a factor.

#polls #round 1 #week 2 #new

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megamindsecretlair · 10 months

Text

It's a Little Warm, Part 1

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!Reader / Plus Size Reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, unresolved tension! Mentions of private parts but really mild. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Soft Bucky. Part 1 of 5. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. Bucky was sweet enough to help with your bags. You also found yourself up in the wee hours of the morning with him.

Word Count: 4,221k

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics at cabins and wanted to try my spin. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But here we go! While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging and commenting to help support writers!

“Kinfolk!” Uncle Sam yelled and shoved past people in his quest to scoop you into his arms and spin you around. You yelped, not used to anyone swinging you around like a doll. You were short but far from petite and the sudden loss of your feet firmly planted to the ground made your stomach flip.

“Put me down!” You yelled. You slapped at his massive arms but that only made him chuckle. Mercifully, he stopped turning and set you on your feet. “Look at you!”

You rolled your eyes. “I just saw ya’ll last week!”

His chuckle was quick as he threw his head back. “You barely come out of the house, I got to comment on the special occasion.”

You twist your lips and roll your eyes. “I see being Captain Chocolate has made you even cornier,” you said.

Uncle Sam laughed and threw his arm over your shoulder. “Oh, see you got jokes. I see working for that newspaper ain’t help with them lame ass nicknames. I thought you had a better vocabulary than that?”

“Somehow I always forget it when I come around ya’ll,” you said. Uncle Sam only chuckled. “Where’s your bags?”

“Got it in the car for now,” you said.

Uncle Sam frowned. “Give me a minute, I’ll come help you,” he said.

“I’m perfectly capable of bringing up my own bags,” you said.

“That ain’t what I said. C’mon and say hi to Sarah. She’s glad there will be another woman this week,” he said. You follow Uncle Sam through the cabin, weaving through close friends of his and Aunt Sarah.

The cabin had an open plan for the living room and dining room. People milled around watching a football game and sitting on large, comfortable couches. The dining room was cottage chic as a few of the elderly people sat around it talking and fanning themselves. Kids nearly pushed you over as they ran through the cabin.

“Say ‘excuse me’ next time!” Uncle Sam called after them. A chorus of “excuse me’s” rang out as you waved them off. Finally, you made it through the sea of people into the kitchen where various aunties were passing around bowls and spoons and tinfoil.

They smiled at you and you were passed around like the last piece of pie as everyone got in their hugs and kisses and well wishes. The last person to hug you was Aunt Sarah. She hugged you just as hard as Uncle Sam did.

“Damn, ya’ll would’ve thought I died or something,” you said.

Sarah laughed. “Oh my god! I’m just so happy it’s not just me staying here this week. Sam gets his puppy, I should get one too,” Sarah said and laughed, pushing her braids behind her ears.

Before you could ask what she meant, a booming grandfatherly voice called out for Sam. He told them that he’d be right back and headed out of the open side door towards the backyard. Smoke rose into the air as a full barbeque station was being managed by an elderly man with a cap and New Balance shoes on. You shook your head. Every time.

You opened your mouth to ask what Sarah meant by the puppy comment but movement to your left caught your eye. A man entered the kitchen in a soft burgundy shirt and jeans and large dusty boots. He scanned the room before spotting Sarah and broke into a wide grin.

He was simply gorgeous. It was the type of smile that could stop traffic. Perhaps even cure cancer if he grinned hard enough. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he approached.

“You must be Sam’s niece,” he said and extended his hand.

“Uh yes, nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you said and took his hand. His hand was rough and calloused and slid across your soft palm, making your hand tingle.

He smirked and shook his head. “Ugh, Mr. Barnes makes me sound old. I’m not that old. Bucky is fine,” he said.

“You are that old, you old dinosaur,” Uncle Sam said, materializing right next to you. He clapped you on the back, making you jump. “He’s so old, Moses asked him to lead the choir,” Uncle Sam said and laughed.

The group laughed and Bucky rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have any gray hairs,” Bucky said.

“Ay man, you take that back. That’s hurtful,” Uncle Sam said and smoothed down his faded haircut.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky Barnes. It had been wild hearing about the man from Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah, but seeing him in person was an entirely different experience.

Aunt Sarah leaned her hip against the counter and looked between the two men. “See, Sam gets his puppy and I get another human being to talk to. Once you get these two started, they keep going on and on,” she said.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head. “Bucky’s staying with us for the week too. It’s rare they come home at the same time these days. So we’re gonna make a thing out of it,” Aunt Sarah explained the unspoken question lingering in the air.

“Ah, gotcha.”

“Hey, we bring the sunshine and the good vibes. All day, baby. Now, pass over the keys,” Uncle Sam said and held his hand out.

You shook your head. “I can get it, it’s not a big deal.”

The cook for the festivities called for Uncle Sam again. He groaned and nodded towards Bucky. “Wrestle the keys from her so we can help with her bags and take it upstairs. She’s stubborn.”

“Stubborn doesn’t work on us, doll,” Bucky said and turned that mega-watt smile on you. You sighed and fought to keep all kinds of dirty thoughts out of your mind. Could super soldiers read minds?

“Hey, hey, hey! None of that. Paws off!” Uncle Sam said.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. Your cheeks instantly flamed and you were grateful for your darker skin. It hid the obvious signs of a blush. You turned to Aunt Sarah for help who laughed and shook her head. She gave you a pitying look as if to say she wouldn’t be any help. She looked Bucky up and down and winked at you.

“You’re not really my uncle, you know,” you said.

“I’m your uncle in the ways that matter. Don’t make me bring a hose in here. It’s hard enough keeping the aunties off of him.”

The cook called out for Uncle Sam again. He gave them a warning glare before you turned back to Bucky who held out his metal hand. It had intricate designs etched into it and seemed really, really advanced. You half wondered if it was from that famous Wakanda. You’d just about die to have a chance to go there one day.

“I can get it myself. You don’t have to bother,” you said. You backed away, bumping into random partygoers talking in the kitchen. The press of bodies seemed to double as you backed away towards the front door. You knew you should have brought your things inside earlier. But you were already running late and just wanted to unwind from the long drive.

Bucky stalked forward, patient as a hunter, with his arm still outstretched. His grin turned into a patient smirk.

“Right, being stubborn doesn’t work on you,” you said.

His answering smirk was enough to melt your panties. You looked away from him. If he couldn’t read your mind, he could at least read your facial expressions. And none of your thoughts were holy.

You dug into the back pocket of your shorts and slapped your keys into his hand. “Thanks, doll,” he said.

You had, hand to god, actual shivers run down your spine. His voice had the right amount of gravel in it to skate over your nerve endings. And you weren't even standing that close to him.

Bucky held out his hand for you to lead the way and you took the opportunity to calm your racing heart and nerves. He was a solid wall of heat at your back as you maneuvered your way to the front door. Your sandals slapped against the hardwood floor but even with his boots, he was silent. You felt like a bull in a china shop.

You gave yourself a pep talk. Somehow, someway, you were supposed to survive an entire week with that. You supposed it was true. You should never meet your idols. You might get the overwhelming urge to climb them like a tree.

Okay, thoughts like that weren’t going to help. You supposed you could limit your contact as much as possible. Hide out in the room or down by the lake. Anything. As long as it meant you weren’t right next to the man.

You led Bucky outside and towards the makeshift parking lot. A dizzying array of nearly every make and model crowded the rented cabin’s lawn and rocky driveway. You had to park a little ways away and walk down to the cabin. Making it to your beat up Honda, you waved to it.

Bucky smirked and popped the trunk. You had two suitcases, plus your laptop bag. You moved to grab one and Bucky tsked at you. He tsked at you as if you were a child!

“You don’t like people doing things for you, do you?” Bucky asked with a smirk. He bent down to retrieve your bags. He didn’t even grunt at the weight. This was your poor attempt to pack light. But since you were a big girl, your clothes didn’t roll up all cute and tiny. You had to adjust and shove things until they fit enough for the suitcase to close.

“I’m not used to it. Makes me feel weird,” you said.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. Makes me feel useless. I feel like I should help,” you said. He got the second suitcase down and slipped your laptop bag over his shoulders. You closed the trunk.

“So you were going to haul all of this to the cabin tonight by yourself?”

“Yes?” You hadn’t meant to make it a question, but he asked as if he were scolding you. You fought an eye roll and bit the inside of your cheek. He was being nice. But it still grated. As far as the City of Nawlins was concerned, you were a full growed adult.

“It gets pretty dark out here. It could’ve gotten dangerous. A random car could hit you or a wild animal could trip you up,” he said.

“You always so fatalistic?”

“I’ve had reason to be,” he said.

Right. Doofus. “I am so-”

“Don’t be,” he said with a smirk. “Once you fight scaly purple monster-aliens, it’s hard not to see danger everywhere. Just because you can do things by yourself doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help. Okay?”

You nodded slowly, feeling like a proper idiot. Of course the man was fatalistic. You didn’t know everything about him. Most of it came from Antman’s book or Uncle Sam’s stories, and it wasn’t the whole story. Still, it was enough to know that Bucky had more than enough reason to be wary of potential danger.

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him. He carried your bags into the house and up the stairs. He nodded towards a door a few paces down the hallway. You opened it to find a spacious room, decorated with a nautical theme. You smiled at the blue and white scheme, the anchor pictures on the wall, and the goofy full sized bed.

Bucky gently set your bags on the floor and your laptop bag on the small desk. As he leaned over, his shirt rode up a bit revealing creamy skin and subtle muscles.

“What’s that, doll?” Bucky asked as he straightened.

“What?” You asked, a little too loud. You looked at him and he put his hands on his waist as he surveyed the room.

“I thought you said something,” he said. Did he have to draw attention to his tiny ass waist? Seriously. This man couldn’t be real. It was like he stepped out of a smut book. He was the definition of sexy as sin. Everything he did was seductive.

“Figured you’d get the better room,” he muttered with a sigh. But you got the sense that he was teasing. You looked around and noticed the huge window. You went to it and peeked out over the backyard. Uncle Sam was leading the group dance along to a Tupac song.

You turned with a smile to tell Bucky but you noticed his eyes dart up to your face. Was he…?

No way. You shook your head. “Where’s your room?” You asked.

“Right across the hall. Just holler if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.”

Your mind wandered to how he would look asleep. His dark hair tousled and floofy. You bet he slept without a shirt on. He seemed the type. Plus he was like a furnace. He probably got hot. Which meant…

“Uh right. That must suck. I sleep like a little brick,” you said. Your cheeks burned again.

“I haven’t slept that well since before the war,” he said and shrugged. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I probably just need some water. It’s a little warm in here. I mean outside. I mean today,” you said with a laugh. You looked at the floor and closed your eyes. Yup. Operation Avoid Bucky At All Costs commenced now.

“Well come on. We better get downstairs before Sam steals all the ribs like last time. I thought food lasted longer at cookouts?” Bucky asked.

You laughed. “Rule number one of cookouts: make your to-go plate before your real plate,” you said.

He backed out of the room with a grin. You followed and closed your bedroom door behind you.

“You’ll have to explain that one,” he said.

You explained the intricacies of cook out etiquette as you headed down the stairs and on the way outside. Bucky listened and didn’t interrupt no matter how many side stories and funny anecdotes you told. Once outside, Uncle Sam waved from the dance area.

Uncle Sam moved and shimmied his way through dances, making everyone around him laugh. He wore long, navy shorts and a light blue shirt. You shook your head as he tried to twerk and made everyone nearly fall out with laughter.

You stood side by side with Bucky as you watched. You kept all of your focus on Uncle Sam. You absolutely did not notice how heavenly Bucky smelled or how he blocked the sun for you.

Aunt Sarah called your name and you looked behind you. She sat at a table and waved. She pointed to a plate she made for you. Your stomach chose then to grumble. You waved back to acknowledge her.

“I better…”

“I’ll catch you around,” he said with a small smile. He headed off into the swarm of people with ease saying hi and clapping people on the back.

You took a deep breath. Maybe food was exactly what you needed. If you were too busy stuffing your face, you didn’t have time to think about Bucky Barnes.

You were burning up. For such an open room, the southern heat was eating you alive. You had already kicked off most of your pjs, leaving nothing but an oversized T-shirt and your panties. In a minute, you were going to take that off too, but you desperately needed some water.

You got out of bed, fumbling around in the dark. You stubbed your toe on the corner of a dresser and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from yowling. You danced in place until the sharp pain subsided.

You had no idea what time it was but after the party, cleaning up, and trading stories around the kitchen table, everyone peeled off for bed around two or three in the morning. The sun wasn’t yet up so you only managed to get an hour or so of sleep.

Your tongue was dry and thick. You moved it around, trying to get your spit going. That last tequila shot definitely did you in. You sighed heavily as you padded down the hallway and the stairs.

The silence was near deafening as you crossed the wide open space. The cabin was dark but there was enough ambient light from the open curtains letting in moon light. You could see enough to cross the living room towards the kitchen.

You opened the fridge door and bent over to look for leftover water bottles. You danced a bit as you tried to focus long enough to find a bottle. The fridge blew cold air that washed over your flushed skin. You scratched absently at your bonnet.

Finally finding some water, you uncapped it and stood up to down nearly half the bottle. You turned around and screamed, jumping back into the fridge door. Bucky sat at the kitchen table. The light from the fridge gave him an otherworldly appearance.

Bucky stood up instantly and crossed the small space towards you. He held out his hands to steady you. “You okay? I’m sorry,” he said.

You slapped him away and scrambled for the nearest light switch. “You scared me half to death!”

Miraculously, you drank too much for the water to slosh out of the bottle so none of it spilled. You clutched the cool bottle to your racing heart. Your hands shook and you took deep breaths to calm down.

Bucky had the good nerve to wince before closing the fridge door. “I’m truly sorry,” he said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked.

Bucky chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t trying to scare you. A random voice in the night would’ve scared you more,” he said.

You flopped into the nearest kitchen chair. You were too hot and too shaken up to care that you wore a bonnet around Bucky. There was no need to avoid him now. You were about as sexy as a paper clip.

He dropped back into his seat. Now that you were calming down, you noticed that true to your daydreams, his hair was pleasantly tousled. He didn’t wear a shirt but he did have dog tags hanging from his neck. His metal arm gleamed in the low light.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” You asked.

He smirked. “Not really,” he said.

“Nightmares? Want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener,” you said.

He absently rubbed a spot on the wooden table. “Wasn’t a nightmare this time. Actually had a dream. For the first time in a long time.”

You looked at him as he held a smirk, but there was no humor in it. You sat patiently, giving him the space to talk about it or not. It didn’t seem like he was inclined, so you sipped your water and listened to the subtle animal sounds from outside.

“It wasn’t anything fancy. Quite boring actually. I dreamt I was back in Wakanda. It was peaceful there,” he said softly.

A million questions danced in your head. But you nodded and smiled at him to continue. “There was a small lake where I used to sit for hours and just be. I didn’t get a lot of chances to do that in my life. Being here just made me miss it, I guess,” he said.

“I get that. Dream freaked you out enough to come sit in the dark by your lonesome?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “I can’t always trust what’s in my head. Sometimes I need to ground myself and I’m still getting used to how soft beds are these days,” he said.

“Oh, they make them firmer. Like sleeping on an ironing board,” you said.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve slept on worse,” he said.

“Ugh, no thank you. Give me the softest bed you can find. I wanna disappear into an infinite void of clouds and pillows and blankets,” you said.

Bucky grinned and looked at you. “Don’t you have to be this tall to even climb into the bed?” He held up his hand to exaggerate how short you were. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Next to you, everyone’s short,” you said.

“And yet you’re still the shortest,” he said and laughed. You leaned up and slapped his regular arm.

“You’ve been hanging around Uncle Sam too long,” you said.

Before you could pull back, Bucky grabbed your wrist and prevented you from moving back. He rubbed lazy circles as he looked at you.

“Why do you call him Uncle?”

Your heart rate sped up for different reasons. His touch was feather soft and sent all kinds of crazy signals to your belly.

“I grew up around their family for years. But when Sam joined the Air Force, I called him Uncle Sam as a joke. Kind of stuck. He already saw himself as my older brother so we kept it. Sarah felt left out so I called her Auntie,” you explained.

Bucky hummed and nodded. He glanced down at the circles he was making on your wrist.

“Where’s your family?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Deadbeat, emotionally abusive parents. I ditched them a long time ago and I don’t talk to them.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“S’okay. Good riddance. Sam and Sarah and the boys are all I need. If you’re gonna keep coming around, I guess that includes you too,” you said.

Bucky chuckled and finally released your wrist. “You should probably try to get some sleep. Apparently, Sam has plans scheduled for the whole week,” Bucky said softly.

“Sam loves his plans. You gonna get some rest?” You asked.

“I’ll try,” he said.

You nodded. You stood up and moved to walk past him. But you stopped and bit your lip. You reached up and stroked his cheek.

“I hope you get some sleep,” you said. You didn’t quite want the spell to break yet. It was early morning and the house was quiet. In the moments you spent down here, your body had cooled. However, standing so close to him while his clean soapy scent enveloped you, your body heated up for entirely different reasons.

You slid your fingers under his chin and made him look up at you. His lips parted as he looked from between your eyes to your lips. He sighed as he trailed his fingers along your thighs. You made a squeak as the cold metal of his arm touched your heated skin.

He skirted his fingers up and beneath the hem of your shirt, but he didn’t press further. He drew more lazy circles into your skin.

Fuck it. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed again, against your lips, and tugged you closer until you were straddling his thick thigh. You braced one hand on his other thigh and the other around his metal shoulder.

He devoured you in a strong kiss, teeth clashing against each other. His tongue swiped against your lower lip before you opened for him. His tongue dived inside and slid against your own.

His metal arm wrapped around you to keep you steady. His hand was better than a brace as it kept you from slipping off of him. His other hand came up to stroke your jaw before wrapping around your neck.

Not even you could keep the needy moan from escaping your lips. His lips moved over yours with expert care. Your hands came up to feather into his hair and trail down to the nape of his neck where you lightly scratched him.

A shudder moved through him that you felt all the way to your pussy. You shamelessly grinded on his leg. There was nothing but his sweatpants and your panties keeping you from skin on skin contact but you were sure he could feel how damp you were already. You’d be embarrassed except your thoughts were consumed with him. With touching him and feeling your nipples rub against his bare chest.

As soon as the kiss started, Bucky pulled away from you. Your harsh breaths mingled with his as you both panted. He plucked your hands from around his neck and held them in between you like a silent prayer. He got a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at your hands.

He leaned down and kissed your fingers before leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Almost as if he were staring straight into Uncle Sam’s room.

“You should go back upstairs,” he panted.

You wanted to be angry. He didn’t get to just dismiss you. You practically threw yourself at him and that realization was enough to dump ice water in your veins. How embarrassing.

You got up slowly and nodded. Without saying another word, you left the kitchen. Cool air hit the sweat along your face and neck and you shivered from the lack of heat. His heat. But you were a grown woman. You would be okay.

You trudged all the way to your room and closed the door before falling face first into bed with a soft groan.

What, the actual fuck just happened?

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

There is now a follow up! It's a Little Cold

#marvel #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky fan fiction #Bucky x Black!reader #bucky x plus size reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky x you #The Secret Bucky Files #Megaminds Secret Files #It's a Little Warm Series #x Black reader #Bucky x Fem!reader

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bebx · 6 months

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Honestly, I don't get how people can think that Sylki won't be endgame. Are they forgetting that it's Disney? Or that the writer is a Sylki shipper? Let's be realistic. I agree that it would make zero sense, but this argument is lame, because we know Marvel doesn't care and they're capable of doing that. I wouldn't be surprised if they rushed it and pulled "actually Sylvie has been in love with him the entire time, but she's been hiding it, trying to push him away, because she thinks she doesn't deserve love. But she got over it now." Not to be rude, but I feel like everyone who believes that Sylki won't happen is delusional. I really want Lokius to happen, not Sylki, but even the idea of Sylki not happening is too good to be true. I feel like those leaks are true.

the leaks, which came from several people who claimed to have seen the entire season (and they all said the same thing), were correct about Marvel’s revealing that Mobius has 2 sons in episode five. I know it’s just a “rumor” and there’s no way to know if they really did see the entire season, but tbh I expect Marvel to pull the Sylki endgame in the finale (like how those leaks also said they would do that, getting Loki and Sylvie back together in the last episode).

if I had to guess, I’d say it’d go exactly the way you said, that Sylvie was always in love with Loki all along, but didn’t think she deserved to be loved, hence why she tried to push him away.

I would love to be wrong, but I guess we’re all finding out soon.

also I wouldn’t call anybody delusional for thinking Sylki won’t be endgame or that Lokius will be canon, unless it’s in a joking manner where I’m also making fun of myself. but in all seriousness, I don’t think anybody is ever “delusional” for having opinions about which direction the show will go based on what was actually showed so far in the series. because if this weren’t Disney, I’d say Lokius would absolutely go canon, after all those hints and everything they gave us so far. Sylki parting ways as friends and Lokius going canon as a couple are very highly unlikely, but it’s not entirely impossible either.

as for the writer, if you mean Eric Martin, dude’s a troll (and I say this with respect lol nothing against him, I’m sure he’s a good person with good sense of humor), he’s always liked both Sylki and Lokius posts because he knows fans monitor his likes and I fully believe he’s doing it on purpose just to (playfully) mess with the audience. so I wouldn’t take whatever he liked on social media as a “confirmation” of anything, not even his personal opinion about which ship he thinks is “better”.

*and even if he does personally ship Sylki, it’d still be unfair imo to assume he only made Sylki endgame solely because he personally liked the ship. if he’s a professional writer, I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he had other reasons behind his writing choices that had nothing to do with his personal feelings, since after all, the characters belong to Marvel, not him. so his personal preferences shouldn’t be the only factor in deciding which direction things should go. (to be clear, what I mean is: it’s perfectly okay — and it is a good thing — to write a story based on how you, the writer, personally prefer, but I don’t think he’d make Sylki endgame just because he liked it without any other reasons involved when it’s still Marvel’s show and he was hired by Marvel, not his show, if that makes sense.)

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moldybonessmell · 23 days

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The Umbrella Academy season 3 review post

I finally finished season 3 of tua even tho I've watched first two seasons first day they came out and oh boy do I have things to talk about-

To begin with, the things I like about new season:

- The way we finally dug into Allison's trauma and how she starts going psychotic is actually a good plot line especially the accent on how she just like any other Umbrella Academy people indulges in self-distructive behavior, she's really just like them

- Diego getting a kid as someone with the biggest daddy issues out there is a realistic plotline because having a kid (even if Stanley's not actually his) heals him in this regard tho he and Lila would get a kid anyway eventually but they really should've been more sad about Stanley thanosing out of the existence you know

- Five being the founder of The Temps Commission makes so much sense as he's the one with the power to travel time of course he's more powerful than it seemed

- Good music scenes. Music is what season 1 was incredible for and what I love about the show. In season 2 there weren't many scenes that caught my attention but in s3 it's definetely better. We got Klaus's death montage with "Crystallised" by The xx and celebration scene with "Another one bites the dust" by Queen + Luther on moon and "Friday I'm in Love" by The Cure these were really nice.

- The Oblivion Hotel is such a cool location and concept (a place for everyone) I like the change of place of action a lot, but the way it's a portal is kinda overused imo

- Lila and Five are still the best characters and carried the season

- Fei is such a cool chara with a distict character design (which most of Sparrow Academy lack tbh)

Now things I don't like:

- Ben being just a placeholder character is such a bummer because instead of getting angst and drama we got a mostly one-dimentional anti-hero who has a completely different personality from Ben. We got a tiny bit of his character when he admitted he just wants to be involved with everyone but it's really minimal.

I can't believe Klaus says "He's an asshole and he's dead to me" like WHAT DO YOU MEAN fuck no Klaus would not say that shit and he would not just give up on him. Yeah Luther says stuff like "I'm glad to see you even if you're different" or whatever but it's Klaus who've spent the most time with Ben.

The way literally any other actor could have played Sparrow Ben and nothing would change is lame af I hope in next season we will see more changes

- Same goes to my dear Grace who's just a placeholder for black hole worshipper like what do you mean we just got one phrase from Diego and that's it??? This whole bit with fake god and stuff really threw me off it didn't go anywhere

- The Sparrow Academy being one-dimentional characters in general like I get producers probably didn't have enough episodes to actually develop characters but holy shit are they boring.

Even if you want to make them just antagonists we had such cool villains in two previous seasons they were original and interesting (aka The powerless podcast-fan male manipulator Peabody and The Cunty Handler)

Also the way the fisrt Sparrows who died were the most annoying and cliche assholes makes them just filler charas

- How show tried to make us feel compassion to Reginald Hargreeves holy shit do I hate this guy- After Klaus realised his father was basically killing him over and over in his childhood instead of Klaus getting mad or upset and having a breakdown we got nothing.

He even came back to new timeline Reginald who's "nicer" for this asshole just to hurt him AGAIN

- Klaus mostly being a comic relief in this season is so fucked I love this character and in previous seasons we had a great look at his life and experiences but now he's just kinda there being high and that's it

"mm I guess he died a few times it's probably enough" - plot writers

no character development whatsoever is just upsetting.

And the amount of unnecessary traumatising aka Reginald training him was really not it, even if it's supposed to be a joke.

- Reginald being a two-faced ass like holy shit is this terrifying. Pogo was the one who gave Sparrows pills and now Klaus helped him to stop taking them and this asshole is taking advantage of naive and vulnerable Klaus.

It is in fact a good plot twist but bro I really did prefer Reginald being a cartoonish villian instead of actual pure evil like how does he have shitty motivation but still does just so much shit.

- The Umbrella Academy family having no improvement in their relationship. They still don't care Klaus relapsed, they still don't care about Viktor. All they care about is their own misery which is really in character but with three seasons out of the way and only one more left I would expect at least something you know.

- Viktor is still left out. Like bro the only compassion he had is only when he transitioned but this is it?? Bro's still waiting till someone comes and cares about him but not only this doesn't happen, he even gets rediculed by Sparrow Ben for that and called emo are you actually kidding me what's with all the hurt with no comfort???

It feels a lot like when you're mentally ill and your family kinda "walks on eggshells" to not trigger you but it's in quotes because they don't actually care. They act nice just because they think you're psycho and you would make less problems if they pretend. And this is very sad, Viktor is such a tragic character.

Okay that's it for now. If you have any thoughts please share in comments!

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua s3 #tua s3 spoilers #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #the sparrow academy #viktor hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

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foundfamilynonsense · 1 year

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I’ve seen a few posts calling raine’s possession unnecessary and like. No. Quick rebuttal of that bc I can’t help myself.

Why was Raine possessed? Or, more accurately, why were they in the final battle with Luz, Eda, and King? That finale against Belos was the three main characters and then…. Raine. And people are right to question it bc it did feel a little strange! Raine was a minor character. They were a lesser character than all the kids who just spent the final episode “rescuing” puppet people with glyph magic (I say “rescuing” bc they didn’t even bring people back with light glyphs they just took them down from the shelves and then got interrupted).

Well it was for plot reasons, obviously. Bc everything is for plot reasons. I feel like sometimes people say “this part felt off” without asking “what would have made it better”

So I’m assuming, when the writers came up with this plot, they started with a few main things. 1. This was and Luz, Eda, King episode. They were separated. Now they spend the whole episode together. 2. Belos possesses the titan. 3. Luz defeats him with new titan powers.

So. Belos possessing the titan is the breaking point of the episode. It’s where the real conflict starts. So… it should probably be more tense then Belos just walking up and possessing him with shifty music.

So someone fights belos and loses! Ok so who.

Well that’s the big questions: who’s left?

Which character still has some plot and development to finish up? Not Hunter, he got his arcs wrapped up in a nice bow the last two episodes. What would he say to Belos that had not been said in the first episode?

Not any of the other kids. To have them fight Belos (without hunter, bc hunter can’t be there) would just be weird. None of them have personal beef or any unfinished business. You’d be opening a book that had been so nicely shut. Again, they had plenty of arcs in the last two episodes.

Sooooo…. Lilith? She and Eda are good. They’ve been good since the end of season one.

Raine and Eda is the only untied thread. Raine and Eda have been growing back together for almost a whole season now. They need to reunite. And if they didn’t reunite before the final battle, they’d have to do it during Luz’s narration and that would be a lame payoff for so much buildup.

So Raine got the job of fighting Belos. It’s not like they don’t fit the bill. They fought Belos, personally, more than most of the main characters. Outside of the main two groups of owl family and kids, they’re the biggest character. And when the final battle started, it would have been weird if they waited in the hall while the main characters did the work. And being too injured to fight would have harped on their reunion with Eda.

It was literally the best way to do it. The only way to keep Raine out of the final fight and being possessed would have been to wake them up early and have them reunite with Eda in the second episode. And… where did they have the time? That would have been way weirder. “Things take a turn for the worst! Oh, and Raine and Eda get together ❤️” much better to do a quick hug and reunite while adrenaline is high and the audience is feeling good.

#toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #Raine whispers #I’m rambling

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popstart · 7 months

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This is such a gweather win but at what cost. LIKE.... i can see the episode playing out like gwen being gaslit into thinking that this is A Good Idea (its not)

Heather convincing gwen to vote for leshawna because it would look really lame of her if she didnt. it would hint more to the audience that gwen actually cares A Whole Lot about her appearances and how people perceive her (since a lot of people think thats a super thrown on attribute for her to have in all stars) and it would paint gwen as less of a saint

i have a big problem with the way gwen is portrayed to the audience. The writers want her to look like this misunderstood girl so shes painted as this dick in canon but theres nothing about her thats like... even bad until s3 (s2 too with the whole breaking up with trent) but even then gwen was NOT in the wrong for that shit idc.

I think the meanest thing i can recall her doing is calling lindsay an idiot in episode one, when EVERYONE is caught off guard with the state of what wawanakwa is like. Her being in a bad mood is literally the normalest shit that happens in this show im sorry. this show cannot convince me gwen is a bad person, unless it did this. WHICH WOULD BE MILES MORE INTERESTING THAN HOW SHE IS IN CANON. gwen is so fucking BORING DUDE I HATE IT. let this girl be fucked up and insane and EVIL.

If they made gwen stab one of her friends in the back because of her own insecurity it would tackle like the two biggest gripes about the way she is in canon. It would set up her being this insecure freak more (there was also the episode geoff got eliminated. her disliking that geoff wouldnt like her according to her own insecurity but that was also tacked on as fuck) AND it would make her do something actually note worthily bad because of it. she could be actually painted as this underdog in the finale, especially if there were even less people on her side because of that. like seriously. why would half of the people that are on owens team be on owens team besides just being forced on there to make gwen seem like more of a loser. i dont remember owen interacting with majority of them and a lot of them dont seem like the party type. courtney comes to mind but also ezekiel (i guess hes sexist and thats the reasoning i forgot about that) and fuckin idk tyler and harold. AND EVEN THEN....... they didnt know about the party thing. lindsay switched teams when she heard about the party thing. idk maybe im just misremembering about the lack of interactions between characters.

and parallel to the way gwen didnt even vote trent out when he was framed for cheating, leshawna could have seen that heather framed gwen as well. (i think it suits leshawnas character miles better to be forgiving idk. like tda can push this agenda that leshawna is secretly awful but that shit is so unreal to me) gwen could be thinking all day next episode about how bad she feels about voting for leshawna, for letting her insecurities get the better of her, but Gwen and leshawna could make up and be bffs again in the finale. would it be too much to have this thing between both gwent and gweshawna in the same episode? idk maybe. im here to spitball not to be an actual writer (if i were to be an actual writer i would fix gwent from being terribly and awfully executed throughout literally the entire season. pacing issues eaughh.)

this isnt even mentioning how bullshit leshawnas actual canonical elimination is but its talked to death so im not talking about it because i dont really care enough i cant lie.

i hate the writing in tdi so much sometimes actually though. I think if they went this route it would actually be executed shittily bc thats just how it goes in td episodes. like it would be the certifiably worst episode in the entire series barring maybe sundae muddy sundae LOL. au where total drama is good and im not obsessed with the shittiest fucking show on the planet that i actively hate but cant get enough of

#total drama island #total drama #td gwen #td heather #td leshawna

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lmanburg · 2 months

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happy (late) valentine's day @elveneclipse! this is a highly experimental mashup of candy cards + a small fanfic. i hope you enjoy! (@mcyt-valentines)

basic summary: DSMP candy cards/fanfic. Wilbur needs to send out valentines cards to a distant relative. He pulls tommy along for the job. eight candy cards w/ a word count: 930.

“Why are we writing these stupid things again? Corbin Trove sound like a fake name, is this tax fraud? Are you making me commit a crime again Wil?”

Wilbur glanced up from where he was finishing pasting photos onto card-stock. Tommy was sitting on the counter to the left of him, legs swinging while he fiddled with the lighter display. He looked tremendously bored. Outside the heavy winds battered against the gas-station doors, though the inside was blessedly warm. Management can’t skimp out on the temperature system when your building acts as a desert shelter.

“For Valentine's day. For my distant cousin. On my Mom’s side.”

“I thought your Mom was a fridge.”

“No. She died. I only ever saw her on the fridge. That’s where the joke came from.”

“Oh.”

He finally glued down the last photo of Tommy to the card, a younger one, from L’manburg. He looked cute.

“Why do you want to send them cards if they’re distant?”

“So I can update them. Let him know I’m alive. I was going to do that for all my relatives but turns out I only have one.” He held out four red cards for Tommy to take. “Here. These are yours.”

“Why do I have to be involved?” Tommy whined.

“You’re my brother, aren’t you? You should be involved then.” Tommy stared back at Wilbur with an unreadable face. Blank, suspicious. Wilbur had forced himself to get used to those.

Tommy snatched them out of Wilbur’s hands with a sour face and dug out a colored pencil from his cargo shorts. “Fine, I’ll do 'em. But I won't make em good. Or nice. Or proper. Or-”

“Stop stalling. Just sign the cards bud.”

He thinks this is easy, doesn't he. He can write just about anything and make it sound good, even now. I’m not like that Wilbur. I’m scared. Chaotic. What if you don’t like me. He wants me to write to you. I don’t know how. He wants this to start the new normal but he abandoned me even though he didn't really leave me because I can visit but that means leaving. I can’t leave where I’m living you’ve got to understand that it’s apart of my fuckedness. The fuckery in me brains. Can’t leave home can’t hate people can’t be nice can’t be good. You don’t want to hear from me I‘ve got nothing good to show or say or do or be or-

“Tommy,” Wilbur said softly. He rested his hand on Tommy’s shoulder concerned at the far-away look in his eyes. Tommy did that too often. Wilbur had hoped when he left he’d have found someone else who could show him how to de-fuck himself. He guessed he’d been wrong.

Tommy jerked and stared at Wilbur with large eyes. “Hm?”

“Whatever you put in will be fine. Don’t think about it too hard, just sign them.”

“Okay.” Tommy said. He hopped off the counter and knelt on his knees signing his cards on the dirty linoleum floor. Wilbur sighed.

“Why are we sending them pictures of our faces? Seems a bit self-centered Wilba!” Tommy accentuated the ending syllable of his name, which is how Wilbur knew he was feeling better. At least marginally.

“It’s so they know what we look like. And I don’t know, maybe.”

Silence. Wilbur fiddled with the ends of his own cards, laminated, with type-writer lettering instead of handwriting. Wilbur didn’t like feeling pens in his hands anymore.

“Wouldn’t this have worked better as a Christmas card?”

“Well I missed Christmas, Tommy. So.”

Tommy didn’t respond, just went back to writing and kicking his feet in the air. Wilbur knew his cardigan would get dirty with sand and general car-floor grime. He wondered if dry-cleaning would be worth it.

“Okay, I’m done!” Tommy crowed. “Let's compare. I bet mine’s way cooler than your lame ugly valentines day card.”

Wilbur chuckled softly as he inspected the sets side-by-side. “I’m sure they are.”

Tommy cringed. “Wow, these suck Wilbur.”

“What! I think these are perfectly fine.”

“They’ve got no personality! No heart.It’s just your name over and over again.”

“I think the dick monument has plenty of personality.”

“That’s not what I meaannnn Wilbaaa,” Tommy dragged out his syllables into a whine as he fell and leaned his whole torso onto the counter. “You’ve not told them why you want to write to them! What else is the point of sending these if you haven’t given them a reason?”

“I didn’t think I needed one.” Wilbur answered plainly. Tommy puffed out his cheeks and laid his limbs dangling over either side of the counter.

“Well now mine look dumb. Gimmie ‘em back.” He said, reaching for his stack.

“Nuh-uh,” Wilbur said, dangling them out of reach of Tommy’s grabby hands. “They’re cute, he’ll love them.”

“But they look stupid next to yours with no message on themmmm” Tommy whined further.

“If I promise to add something to mine will you let me send them anyways?”

Tommy glared at Wilbur upside down, face slightly red from the blood rush and cheeks still puffed in indignation. Times like this Wilbur forgot Tommy had aged beyond the little twelve year old he’d found behind a laboratory trash can. God, could Tommy drink now in the states?

“Okay. Fine. But only if you promise.”

Wilbur smiled indulgently, holding out a single pinky finger. “I promise.”

Later that night, true to his word, he had added something with his typewriter over the plastic lining. It had meant sending them out the next day when they would arrive a little late, but it had been worth it. At least, Wilbur hoped it had.

[A/N: THATS IT. THAT'S THE WHOLE THING SORRY IT'S SO SHORT. I hope you like it! If this isn't what you were looking for I 100% understand this was very experimental. I'll be happy to work on a replacement gift for you!! Happy Valentines Day :D ]

#longpost #cwilbur #ctommy #dsmp fanfic #crimeboys #mcyt valentines

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xsoulxsilencex · 2 months

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Okay, this post was sitting in my drafts for a while and at first, I wanted to wait til the arc (and season) is over so I could talk about it properly, along with some other things. But I guess now is the perfect timing. Well, what's the topic?

It's the way the (eng) fandom sees Yuhi. Because damn, this guy seems like the most hated character of the show rn when I look around the internet.

I remember during season 1, people would be meh about him because he wasn't as cool/strong/smart as Yuamu and Yudias. He was the "weak one" of the trio, "too childish/silly compared to his twin sister" with a lame looking deck aka uninteresting and people waited for the writers "to do something with him" so he would be up with the other two.

Then season 2 comes and Yuhi gets more focus. He's a bit smarter, his dueling improved too. People who were meh about him at first suddenly started to like him better. But with this change, other people would come to hate him.

The major reason I see people hating on Yuhi now is for him "taking away" screentime/focus/relevance of Yuamu and sometimes Yudias too. And I wonder: Why do you hate the character and not the writers for that? Ngl, I like Yuhi a lot but I totally understand people wishing that Yuamu got the same treatment as him or was at least a bit more involved. I mean it does suck to see how barely she matters when even other girls like Asaka and Yuna do more/get more focused episodes than the freaking main girl. Doesn't help either how Yuamu is just absent on the season 3 poster. Some assume she could be the next big bad but if not.. where is she? Would the writers really just "write her out" for a while? If that was the case, it would just mean that more people would get pissed at Yuhi. Because then, there is just one Ohdo twin so he will get more attention than before.

There's now the arc final duel against Yuga and yeah, it's Yuhi dueling him and not Yudias. I can understand being annoyed or disappointed about this decision but again, instead of just hating Yuhi for this, why not be pissed how the writers don't let Yudias duel Yuga? Like what is stopping them to let Yudias face him? Tbh, I still think there's this little chance of when Monster Reborn gets activated in ep 101, something happens with Yuhi so Yudias has to take over for him. Similar to how Luke took over for Yuga once. It's maybe not much but better than having him not involved at all?

Ngl, while I'm curious how season 2 will end and season 3 will play out with the new antags, I'm not looking forward to see one of my favorite characters keep getting hated for things he's not responsible for because the writers can't manage to give other characters some attention and relevance too. Like I really want to see more people questioning the writers (because they didn't just screw up when it comes to Yuamu just existing or Yudias getting barely proper protagonist time, there are more problems and Idk how some people can't admit that but still say the writing is great) than just go "I hate Yuhi so much" and act like he's the sole source of evil when he's not.

#yugioh go rush #ygo go rush #ohdo yuhi

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pinheadbella · 4 months

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My Thoughts on TDI Reboot Season 2 (now that I’ve watched the whole thing) (spoilers below)

Short answer: It got progressively worse once merge hit. It started off with some interesting plots and relationships. But then it chose to focus on one of those ships, have the show and the strategies revolve around it, and not end their story until the very last second. When I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. The writers kept choosing to prioritize characters that had WAY TOO MUCH SCREENTIME ALREADY. And that caused me to root for their downfall not because they were running the game and needed to be defeated cause they’re evil or whatever. But because I was getting sick of seeing/hearing them and didn’t want them to win. The season did end on a good-ish note and I do like the winner. But the ending would’ve been better if the winner had more of an impact on the plot/strategy.

Long answer hooo boy uh

Let’s go from what I have the least thoughts on to what I have the most thoughts on

Chase I’m 100% okay with the placement of. I didn’t want him to stay for long. But I also didn’t want him to be the first boot in case he had any funny left in him. As horrible of a person as he is, I preferred his slapstick and douchbaggery over Scary Girl’s dark humor. Speaking of-

-Scary Girl I wished wasn’t bluffing when she said she would make everyone pay. I thought for sure she was going to come back. ESPECIALLY in the final four challenge. I thought she was gonna reappear as a helper hired by Chris to make things scarier. Or that she would hijack the challenge and make things more deadly than Chris planned. If there is a season three, I hope she gets some kinda revenge.

Millie served her purpose and I liked the story that was told with her. She didn’t commit to practicing/training and she paid for it. She lost the trust of her team and her friends. She was forgiven by Damien, the specific person she wronged, and got out before the story could devolve into something similar to Gwen and Courtney in All Stars. My one wish is that Priya would’ve thought about her bestie more once she was gone.

Nichelle I was surprisingly alright with. Compared to everyone else at least. Good for her for training and being good at stunts now. The “in your face Hollywood” bits did get annoying. I had a hunch she wouldn’t last long. She was all challenge beast no social gamer. And I was kinda right? Her quitting in the team phase meant that she wasn’t whining/being a hypocrite for long. She somehow became my love to hate character of this season. You go girl!

I’m still so confused how Zee got out over Caleb. Like, I can get why Damien would vote Zee. He exposed not just his underwear secret but his Wizard Squire secret. But what about everyone else? Zee’s as non-threatening as Wayne and as sweet as season 1 Priya. Why get the chill nice guy out before CALEB THE BUFF “ALEJANDRO” (in quotes because he was mistaken as being such)

Emma is the most underused character this season. Out of all the team phase boots, hers was the most upsetting. I wanted her to last long without Chase. I wanted her to make new friends. I wanted some kind of acknowledgment of her friendship with Bowie. But what we got was…her trying in a challenge and failing because apparently not knowing how people answer random questions proves she’s not a good person??? She had so much potential and she was booted in such a lame way…

Bowie’s arc I liked a lot even if it was a bit flawed. I knew he wasn’t gonna go too far. And I knew he’d be in hot water from the start since he was the villain that made it the furthest. I think the cheating arc was great development for him. He’s known for being competitive and doing what it takes to win. But then he finds out Raj doesn’t like cheating. And he feels guilty by the end because he made his bf upset. I’m glad Bowie is shown to have a heart while still wanting to play the game. The problem I have is how suddenly the cheating arc ended. And how Bowie of all the cheaters paid the most for it. That early merge screwed him over. And everyone believing Julia about Bowie being the cheating mastermind…little did I know that was a red flag for a finalist’s plot armor.

Ripper and Axel, I wished there was more substance with you two. How they got together was cute and silly. I like how they bond over artsy things and stopped being as mean to people. But holy shit. Why did they have to be the comic relief couple? You can’t do this to me. You can’t just casually hint that Ripper has a bad family life in season 1 and not bring that back up to make Axel fall for him harder. You can’t just take a kickass survival girl and turn her into a sappy, swooning mess. You had good characters and then you turned them into THAT. If we get a season 3 please put them on separate teams and have them develop AS PEOPLE NOT AS GAGS

Damien wins the award for the BIGGEST ROBBERY OF THE SHOW. Literally. Of his idol. And he couldn’t have even gotten out in a more dignified way. He was gone for half the challenge after we only get a speck of a rivalry between him and Julia. And then his idol is stolen OFFSCREEN. And then he’s flown off kicking and screaming. If that was supposed to be funny, it’s not. Every time this dude tries to be a hero, everything blows up in his face. Which sucks. Because that means this season he spent more time being afraid and less time being the cool dork I loved back in season one. Episode 6 was his best episode. He won because he tried and he showed off his love for LARPing. That’s the Damien I was waiting for. If anyone deserves a run back in another season, it’s Damien.

MK is the character this season that I can confidently say improved and ended on a high note. Last season I actually didn’t like her. She got away with badmouthing Nichelle in ep 3 and only got out in ep 6 because of toilet humor. As much as I like snarky characters like Noah, I also like when they get comeuppance for their snark. And MK didn’t get much of that. But in season 2? Oh this girl fucking SHINED WITH HER GLOWUP. She let bygones be bygones with Julia. They teamed up and became the best evil duo ever. The way they quip and scheme and enable each others’ horrible actions I ATE THAT UP. But let’s focus back on just MK. She was the one who took charge in the cheating schemes. And she finally got karma through the funniest beat down ever. A boxing bear that gave her drain bamage. And after that, she got more moments to shine on her own. She tried carrying her team in the baking challenge and failed. She struggled with the giant coin only to hit the ground running with her gamer moves. And her last hurrah was her hijacking a car and hugging her bestie (they’re more than besties your honor). As sad as I was that she didn’t get to the finale, I was happy with what I got. It’s not everyday a character I don’t like becomes one I adore.

Wayne and Raj I’m the most conflicted on. But I think the best way to describe them is with a comparison Bowie made: “like puppies: not the smartest, but adorable!” Negative out of the way first: they were not nearly as strategic as I hoped they’d be. First ep gave me hope when they were talking about their teammates’ stats/highlights from the challenge. And then you cut to their last elim together and they decided who to vote with a FUCKING COINFLIP. Boys. Please. You should know that keeping strong players in weakens your chance at the cup. Benching the MVPs of the opposition is the way to go. Not to mention the only time they won was because Julia had baking skills. I wanted Raj to win so bad. He was the smarter bro who had more of an impact on the cheating plot. But if he had to get booted for being the more threatening bro…somehow 5th is the worst placement. He could’ve lasted to the final four, make it seem like there’ll be a friendship finale, and then Julia ruins it with the immunity idol. He could’ve been 7th to give Wayne more time on his own. And Wayne on his own is…oh my god he’s so dumb. Raj needs to spell things out for him. He took so long to realize that Julia was using him. And he won with his dumb luck. I should be mad that he won when he didn’t do anything substantial for the plot, but…I can’t stay mad at these hockey puppies. They’re sweethearts. They believe in playing fair and friendship and gay love. They were the light at the end of the drama tunnel. And Raj’s elimination made me tear up. Both because I was sad his run was over and because I was happy he ended with the sweetest final words ever. And Wayne using the money to buy a bus for the Snow Owls? Hoot hoot!

And now for the big ones. The ones I had the most problems with. The ones I was the most disappointed in. Julia. Caleb. Priya. Oh my god what did they do to you three? The pieces were all there. You all were great at the start. Julia coming back and being the main villain all the way through? That could be neat. If anyone could do it I can see it being her. Probably gonna blow up in her face though. Wait she’s working with MK? Oh this’ll be fun. Caleb coming back and planning to get far by allying with season one’s winner? That’s gonna blow up in his face for sure isn’t it? Wait, he actually likes her? Aw that’s so sweet. Priya coming back to win because her parents still aren’t satisfied? She has to realize how horrible her parents are and have that be her main story right?? Holy shit they got worse with each episode. Their plot armor was more sturdy than the confessional. How the fuck did the other contestants let them GET SO FAR LIKE HELLO I thought for sure Julia was gonna take the fall and leave MK staggering. Julia lied several times and got away with it. And this was after she willingly told the opposing team that she got out their challenge beast with a fake contract. How did Axel and Damien and Zee trust her about the lie about Bowie masterminding the intern disguise cheating? How did Caleb and Priya just take her advice with love when she’s one of the most heartless contestants on the island? In fact, Julia getting MK out by making MK look worse for making up horrible things about her bestie? Honestly, you could’ve reversed the roles and it would’ve made sense. Julia lied so much that her finally losing to her lies about her closest ally would’ve been insanely bittersweet justice. I wanted to root for Julia. I love villains. I love manipulative villains who have little to no room in their heart for anything other than themselves. I love characters I love to hate. And yet somehow her immunity running last season seems less bullshit than all the lying and backstabbing she did this season. But this butchering is two-fold. I liked her when she was cheating and scheming with MK. I liked when she was doing good in challenges. What I didn’t like was when Caleb and Priya were there to let her get away with the shit she pulled in the second half of merge. Yknow. Caleb: the guy who wanted to redeem himself. And Priya: the girl who literally trained since she was born for this specific show. I swear, I want to like them as a couple. I genuinely think they were sweet and had chemistry at first. When they looked for the idol in ep 6, that opened my eyes. They had similar upbringings with demanding parents. They liked each other for each other. There was hope that they would end well. But AAAAGGH. THEY KEPT FUMBLING. AND ARGUING. AND BEING DOORMATS FOR JULIA TO STEP ON. AND COPING AND SEETHING. I couldn’t stand either of them anymore. They were the heroes and I was rooting for both their downfalls. Why did they have to be the puppets that Julia made dance ALL THE TIME as soon as they were the only couple left? Why did the show have to revolve around Prileb relationship drama? They could’ve swapped Priya and Damien’s placements. Have some Prileb drama and end it once they get better. Have Julia have an actual rival who can see through her. But noooooo. I’m supposed to be shocked or happy or feeling SOMETHING when Julia pulled out the idol and got out Priya and placed 4th. But I felt nothing. I saw it coming from a mile away ever since Damien didn’t get his marshmallow. I was too tired of Priya’s on again off again relationship with Caleb to even feel relief that she didn’t get to the finale again. Even in the finale as a helper, I couldn’t stand her. She wasn’t the spunky cheerleader she was for Millie. She was so pushy and driven by vengeance that she couldn’t even give Caleb any little victories in the race. How am I supposed to be happy that they stayed together in the end if it turned Priya into a worse version of herself?

So, what do I think of this season as a whole? I loved and hated it so much that it evens out to be a mid season. Which is a shame. The team phase gave me hope that this season would be the best. But with the constantly weird and bad directions the plot went, it’s hard for me to be satisfied with what we got as a whole…

…But to end on a good note, I think my dissatisfaction with this season stems from how amazing this reboot cast is. How much potential each of them have for funny jokes and serious character growth. How much I wanted each of them to develop and shine and mesh together. I guess that’s what making fan content is for, huh? If the show can’t give these characters the proper treatment they deserve, then we can draw and write and headcannon all we want. And that’s not to take away from the show. It’s to express how much we love it and want it to thrive.

Well, it was a bumpy road to get here. But I’m here. I love Total Drama. Flaws and all. And I can’t wait for this love to manifest into more art. So whoever you are reading this, thank you for putting up with this novel of a review <3

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