#god damn this town is insufferable

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

i've been following you for years now like the morning papers but with memes, and i'm really sorry to see you struggling. i sent you a bit of money over paypal i hope it helps

omfg it does????? i was panicking because i just started door dashing and on the last bit of gas in my car and you just bought the tank i needed 😭😭😭 i love u sm gas is so goddamn expensive in tampa. thank you for your kindness bb i will send vibes to you every night

#op #ask #anonymous #MY LOVE #god damn this town is insufferable #gas is FOUR FIFTY can you BELIEVE this shit #augusta was 3.25 when i left! #this place blows if my only support system wasnt here you wouldnt catch me dead in this hole

[ellemj]

Insufferable: 12 Days of Smut #2

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You and Bucky get separated from Sam and Sharon during a mission in Madripoor and are stranded in a motel room until you can get in touch with them again. How do two sworn enemies pass the time?

Warnings: profanity, teasing, fingering, possessive!Bucky, oral sex (male receiving), slight face fucking, female masturbation, unprotected sex, praise, some use of y/n, hate sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I feel like this one is better than yesterday's but idk. @littlemiss-yeehaw helped me make some executive dialogue decisions and helped keep Bucky as the hot little shit that we all know him to be.

         Power Broker is watching. You’ve read the spray-painted words on the wall a million times now as you stand in the dark alleyway, telling yourself over and over again that picking a fight with Bucky isn’t going to make your current situation any better. Even if it is his fault that you’re miles from where you should be, being chased by god knows how many bounty hunters, and so far from Sharon and Sam that your comms aren’t even working at this point. Fuck it, you’ll pick a fight.

         “Is this how you wanted to spend Christmas Eve?” You spit out the question with as much malice as you can, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back against the brick wall of some shuttered, probably illegal business. Bucky’s face contorts in annoyance as he lifts his right hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s getting so tired of you tonight. First, you stupidly thought it would be fine for you and Sharon to partner up and head out into Madripoor on your own. Sam and Bucky were quick to snuff out that idea, even though Sharon was fully on board with you. Nobody gives a shit if Sharon used to be the power broker here or if you have more kills under your belt than most other trained assassins on record. Madripoor is lawless, crawling with criminals who will never pay for their sins, and it’s no place for two attractive women to be running around alone. Even if you can both take care of yourselves, why invite conflict by walking around town without either Sam or Bucky as a deterrent? The fact that you didn’t want to walk around with the damn Winter Soldier right behind you was almost insulting. Did you question Bucky’s reputation? Do you not understand how notorious he is in a place like this?

         “With you? No.” Bucky answers with just as much malice as you threw at him.

         “Then you should’ve listened to me and let me and Sharon take the lead.” You scoff. Bucky shoots you an indignant look, but you stare right back at him with your own expression of disdain.

         “I don’t take orders from you.”

         “That’s exactly why we’re in the situation we’re in now.” You mumble the words out just loud enough that he can hear them. He stands a few feet away from you and you watch him as his pulls his phone from a pocket of his tactical pants and begins typing away on it. You imagine he’s texting Sam a message that says something like if you don’t find us in the next two minutes I’m going to kill this girl. What he’s actually doing is searching up the nearest place that rents rooms to lowlifes without asking any questions. He wants the two of you off the street as fast as possible so he can try to get in contact with Torres and find out how to get your comms working again. Until comms are working, you’re basically doing everything blind, and that won’t work for Bucky. Not when he has to worry about three other lives besides his own.

         The cloud of anger swirling around you isn’t quite thick enough to stop you from appreciating the way Bucky looks tonight. He’s dressed in his usual full tactical gear that he wears for most missions, with one unusual change: his vibranium arm is on full display. He picked a top that is conveniently missing the entire left sleeve. You understand why he chose it, knowing how his name and even his arm precedes him. One look at him tonight, at the colorful lights of Madripoor nightlife reflecting off of his dark metal arm, keeps even the most aggressive men here at bay. No one would dare mess with the Winter Soldier, especially not when he’s radiating as much anger as he is right now. Well, no one besides you.

         “I’m not going to keep waiting around here for you to come up with a new plan.” You announce, pushing away from the brick wall and tossing your hair over your shoulder. Bucky looks up from his phone, narrowing his eyes at you. “We know where Sam and Sharon were headed, we can just meet them there.” You start heading for the street at the end of the alley, but just as you brush past Bucky, he grabs your arm roughly and stops you.

         “No, we’re going to get somewhere safe and wait for Torres to fix comms before we do anything.” Bucky’s holding your arm tightly, keeping you just a couple of inches away from him as he looks down at you with a harsh gaze. You shake his grip off but don’t move away from him.

         “What makes you think you get to decide on the new plan?” You ask, leaning in a little closer as the question leaves your lips. You almost let out a laugh when Bucky’s eyes flit down to your where your lips are mere inches from his own. You’ve done this dance with him before. You’ve been in plenty of these tense situations with him, moments in the field where you’re so against each other that you can’t decide if you want to fight him or fuck him. Of course, you’ve always simply fought him in the past. Fucking him was never actually an option, but hell, it sure is satisfying when he does something that lets you know he thinks about it as much as you do.

         “I’ve already decided on the new plan. You can either go along with it or go out and get yourself killed. I’m starting to not really give a shit about what you do.” Bucky retorts. He looks down at his phone again, breaking the intense eye contact that you were sort of enjoying. “There’s a motel two blocks over. I say we go there and wait for Torres to figure out what the hell is wrong with comms.”

         As much as you want to continue defying Bucky, you know it’d be a hell of a trek from here to wherever Sam and Sharon are right now. There’s also no guarantee that they made it to their destination, they could’ve run into any kind of trouble in a city like this. They might be acting out their own backup plan, just like you and Bucky. Bucky turns around and starts heading for the street, not even looking back to see if you’re following. When you let out a soft sigh and he hears your small footsteps echoing off of the brick walls, he knows he’s won this fight. He doesn’t even try to hide the smug look that’s spreading across his face. Winning an argument with you is something he can be proud of, because it doesn’t happen very often.

---

         Christmas Eve in Madripoor. Has anything ever sounded sadder than that? Christmas Eve, surrounded by a community of people who have done enough horrendous things to rival the entire population of Guantanamo Bay. Bucky sinks into the only chair in the dingy little motel room, checking his phone once again to see if Torres has called him back yet. Still nothing. Nothing from Sam or Sharon either, though he didn’t expect anything from them since the area they were headed into is known to utilize various types of phone and device jammers, transmitting radio waves that block phones from connecting to cell towers.

         You study Bucky from your place on the foot of the bed. He’s leaned back in the small armchair, clearly attempting to get comfortable but failing because he’s way too big for such a little seat. He closes his eyes and lets his head rest back, giving you a chance to really look at him. He’s let his stubble grow out a little more than usual this month, neglecting to really shave it with all of the back-to-back missions you’ve both been sent out on. It suits him. Someone as cold and calloused as Bucky shouldn’t have a smooth baby face. Your eyes coast further down, focusing on where you can just barely see his pulse on the side of his neck. You wonder how many times you’ve made his pulse quicken with anger in this last week alone. Probably enough to give the guy high blood pressure. Your gaze is just settling on his broad shoulders when his eyes blink open and he catches you staring.

         “Are you going to sit there and stare at me until we get out of here?”

         “Maybe. It’s what you do to everyone else, why can’t I try it out?” You ask. There’s a reason Sam likes to call him the bionic staring machine.

         “Try it out?” Bucky laughs, lifting his head from the back of the chair now. “You stare all the time.”

         “I do not.” You’re almost offended at his accusation. You? Staring all the time? At him? No fucking way. Maybe sometimes, but you thought you were covert enough about it that he never noticed. You just can’t help it sometimes. You’re intrigued by him every bit as much as you hate him. He’s over a hundred years old, yet he looks like he’s only a few years older than you. His taste in music is that of an elderly man, while his taste in clothes is perfectly in style with the current era. You hate the way he’s constantly berating you and attempting to order you around in the field, but you like the way he looks at you when you give in and take an order once in a blue moon. So, sometimes, you stare.

         “You’ve been staring at my arm for half of the night.”

         “Because it’s the only thing I like about you.”

         “Right, the only thing.” Bucky repeats your words slowly, as if he’s tasting them. You maintain eye contact with him as he licks his bottom lip. Against your better judgement, your gaze darts down to his mouth, to his mouth that always seems to say things that drive you mad and turn you on simultaneously.  “You know, I thought you might be nicer around Christmastime.” A genuine laugh breezes past your lips at the absolutely insane thought he’s just shared with you.

         “It’s a little hard to be nice when we’re stuck on skull island on Christmas Eve, Bucky.”

         “Be honest, you wouldn’t have been any nicer if we were back home.” He tilts his head to the side as he analyzes your body language. You’re sitting on the foot of the bed with your legs dangling over the edge. Your weight is resting back on the palms of your hands and you seem perfectly at ease. Bucky’s finding it a little surprising that you haven’t gotten up and made a dramatic exit yet. He’s surprised that you’re still going along with his plan at all honestly. He has to wonder why you’re so oddly content sitting here bantering back and forth with him while Torres takes his sweet time figuring things out.

         “Wouldn’t you have been off to Sarah’s for Christmas if we were back home?” Bucky raises an eyebrow at your question. He didn’t know that you knew he was close with Sam’s family. Though, he probably should’ve assumed since you knew Sam long before he did. You’ve probably even met Sarah before.

         “Maybe. Spending Christmas in the tower doesn’t sound very memorable.”

         “It’s not.” You say softly, thinking back to the last three years. It’s not that you didn’t have anywhere to go for Christmas. In the past, Sam has invited you to go see Sarah and the kids the week of Christmas, even Clint extends an open invitation for you to spend every Christmas with his family. But something about being around happy families on the biggest holiday of the year makes you feel the same way you do when you’re third-wheeling Wanda and Vision. You like to be around the Christmas cheer and festivities but you feel like you don’t fully belong. You’ve spent the last three Christmases in the tower on your own and it’s not that bad. A little lonely and not your favorite time of year like it used to be, but still, not that bad. Bucky picks up on your slightly sullen tone and the way you seem a little more distant suddenly.

         “You’re welcome then.” Bucky says, a smug smile taking over his features. You shoot him a slightly confused look.

         “For what?”

         “For giving you a memorable Christmas.” He says it like he’s just given you an actual Christmas gift. You laugh lightly just as his phone is lighting up with a message.

         “You say that like I’d actually thank you for sabotaging our mission tonight and getting us stranded in the shittiest place on Earth.” Bucky’s smug smile remains plastered across his face, even as he glances down and reads the text from Torres.

         “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while longer. Sam and Sharon got through to Torres and said they’re holed up somewhere across town, just like we are. Fury doesn’t want anyone making any more moves tonight without working comms and surveillance.” Bucky’s words bring your bad mood right back to the surface in an instant. You fall back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, covering your face with your hands.

         “How long is a while longer?” You’re dying to know.

         “Could be a few hours, could be all night.” Bucky says nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world that the two of you are stuck here together. It’s infuriating. You push yourself off of the bed and start for the door, but Bucky’s quick to rise from his chair and cross the small motel room in a mere four steps, reaching you just as your fingertips are brushing the door handle. He plants his flesh palm firmly against the wooden door, effectively stopping you from being able to open it. Fuck his super soldier strength.

         “I’m not staying here all night. There are things we could be doing besides sitting here waiting around.” You say impatiently, wrapping your hand around the door handle but not pulling yet. With the way the two of you are standing, Bucky’s chest is brushing against your back and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why the hell he’s so close.

         “What else could we be doing out there? You walk out that door and into the street and every bounty hunter in the city will be on you within five minutes. I’ve been hunted here before, Y/n, it’s not a game you want to play.” The energy between the two of you is so tense, so electrified, you wonder how your hand hasn’t sparked against the metal door handle.

         “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t give a shit about what I do.” You throw his words from earlier right back in his face. As Bucky’s hand against the door curls into a fist, you stand there waiting for him to back off. If he really doesn’t give a shit, he’ll let you walk out of here right now. But of course, Bucky gives a shit. Bucky gives so much of a shit that the mere thought of you waltzing out into the city at this hour, opening yourself up to unlimited danger, has him ready to burn the whole place down. You swallow as your grip on the door handle tightens, listening to Bucky’s even breathing right behind you.

         He doesn’t even know what’s come over him when he finds himself moving impossibly closer to you, letting his chest fully press against your back now. He leans down a couple of inches until his lips are grazing over the shell of your left ear, with his right hand still braced against the door over your right shoulder. He’s trapping you there with his body.

         “You are so fucking insufferable.” He whispers the insult against your ear, but it somehow it doesn’t even feel like an insult. It almost feels like he’s just whispered a little sweet nothing in your ear. Your grip on the door handle falters and Bucky notices, so he keeps going. He’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay here, to stop you from walking out into Madripoor and getting yourself killed tonight. If this is what it takes, so be it. “You wanted me to stop you, didn’t you? You wanted me to force you to stay.”

         “N-no.” You lie, hating the way you stutter through the simplest two-letter word known to man. It’s so hard to think with him this close to you.

         “Insufferable and a liar.” Bucky tsks, just as your hand is fully falling away from the door handle. He can’t help but smile at how easily this is working on you. If he’d known he only needed to be a little more authoritative and stand a little closer to you to make you listen to him, he would’ve tried it a long time ago. You watch, with goosebumps spreading across your skin beneath your tactical suit, as Bucky’s right hand skims down the flat surface of the door slowly. He continues on until his hand reaches the deadbolt just above the door handle. Click. The sound of the lock clicking sets off a chain reaction. A wave of confidence spreads through you like a wildfire and you turn around in the small space that Bucky has you trapped in. You thought he might step back once you were face to face, but no. He maintains his position, but now with his chest nearly touching yours and his breath fanning across your face. Though you feel confident and sure of yourself in this moment, when you look up at him like this you feel small. You feel like he could push you against the door and have his way with you if he wanted, and you couldn’t do a thing about it except enjoy it. The thought actually turns you on way more than it should, considering how independent and stubborn you are.

         “Insufferable and yet you’re trapping me in here. Who’s the liar?” You taunt, tilting your chin up and looking into his blue eyes. His normally cold, steely gaze has a different look now. There’s something bright behind his eyes, something exciting. Your eyes dart down to his mouth, lingering on his bottom lip a little longer than they should have, before you meet his gaze once more.

         “Don’t look at me like that unless you’re going to kiss me.” His tone is harsh but his eyes are daring. He wants you to kiss him. He’s daring you to do it. Unfortunately, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare. Even the stupidest of dares. So, you commit to it. You look at him the exact same way you just did, letting your eyes coast down his face and soak in the sight of his full lips. When you meet his gaze one last time, there’s only one little thought in his mind.

         That’s it, good girl.

         You have to raise up on your toes to reach his lips, because of course Bucky Barnes would stand there refusing to make it any easier for you. He wants to see you struggle to get what you want from him. After making his working life a living hell for months, he’s going to have you exactly how he wants you, or not at all. So, as you stand a little taller on your toes, Bucky acts like he couldn’t care less that you’re about to give him something he’s fucking dreamt about every night since he first started hating you. When your lips press against his, his bottom lip finds its place between the two of yours and he almost scoffs at how timid you’re being. It’s like you’re testing the waters, and he’s not having any of that. He’s quick to fist his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and walk you back one step so your ass hits the door. He breaks the kiss before it’s even been a second, giving you an annoyed look as he holds you in place between his body and the door.

         “Let’s try that again.” Bucky says the words right against your lips, as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and then slots his thigh between yours. As he bends his knee, his hands travel down your sides to grab onto your hips. He angles your hips down just slightly, as he brings his leg up an inch, and you look down right as your clothed cunt makes contact with his thigh. You inhale sharply at the unexpected move, but you don’t move at all. You stay right where he wants you, and he waits patiently for you to look up at him again. When you finally do, a switch inside of you flips and you know you’re about to sabotage tonight’s mission even more. You pull Bucky down to your mouth, kissing him with so much heat and intensity that his hands briefly loosen on your hips, like he wasn’t expecting this from you. After two seconds, his hands start sliding right back up your waist until you feel them both tangle in your hair, which he uses to pull you even harder against his mouth. You don’t think the kiss can get any more intense, until you feel his tongue dancing across your bottom lip. You part your lips without hesitation, letting him dominate the kiss in an instant.

         You taste so fucking good. So. Fucking. Good. So good that Bucky doesn’t notice the first time you grind your pussy against his thigh, he’s too focused on exploring every bit of your mouth with his tongue and savoring the taste of you. But the second time? Fuck. The second time you grind down on his thigh you moan into the kiss and Bucky has to stop. He pulls back while keeping one hand in the hair at the nape of your neck. The look on your face is pure lust. It’s longing. It’s making Bucky’s cock twitch in his pants and making it really hard to decide what to do with you first. God. That one kiss opened up the floodgates.

         “Let me hear that sound again.” Bucky encourages you while using his hold on your hips to guide you to grind down a third time. He watches between the two of you as you drag your cunt along his thigh. The moan that leaves your lips this time is too much. He’s had enough. He quickly pulls away from you, taking two steps back and running a hand through his hair. He eyes you as you stand with your back against the door, catching your breath and staring right back at him.

         “I want a memorable Christmas.” You speak so softly that Bucky has to rewind it in his head to really catch onto what you’ve just said. You want a memorable Christmas. You’re asking him to give you a memorable Christmas. He looks you over slowly, carefully, taking in every detail of the way you look right now. Your skin, though still covered by your tactical suit, heats up to an uncomfortable degree under his watchful gaze.

         “Say please.”

---

         He’s going to hate fuck you. There’s nothing else you could possibly call it, and honestly nothing else you’d want to call it. You’re standing in front of the bathroom sink, locking eyes with Bucky in the reflection of the mirror. You really thought he was going to take you to bed, but no. As soon as you gave in and said please like he wanted you to, he pulled you away from the motel room door and pushed you into the bathroom. He wants to take you from behind but he wants a clear view of how much you’re enjoying it the whole fucking time. If he’s about to fuck away the obscene amount of tension that’s been between the two of you for the last few months, he’s going to memorize every damn face you make, every sound that leaves your lips, and every inch of your body. He’s going to ruin you, so that every time you think about how much you hate him, you can’t help but think about how much you loved being fucked by him.

         You’re both quiet, except for heavy breaths and a few soft moans and groans, as Bucky starts taking off his clothes behind you. He juts his chin out slightly after dropping his shirt on the floor, gesturing for you to take your clothes off too. You follow his moves exactly, dropping your shirt on top of his. He takes a few seconds to admire the way your breasts sit so perfectly in your bra, but then he finds himself growing annoyed at even that little bit of fabric obstructing his view. He undoes it for you, with only one hand, while his free hand begins undoing his belt. Of course this fucking man can undo his belt with just one hand. After a few more agonizingly slow seconds of the two of you undressing, you’re both completely naked. Bucky takes a deep breath in, and when he breathes it back out it warms the back of your neck.

         Just like earlier, Bucky nudges your legs to spread a little wider, using his knee. Your body obeys his silent command like it’s routine for you. He loves the way you respond to him so willingly. He’s never had you like this, not even a little bit, and it’s giving him such a high. It’s the first time he’s ever had you listening to him without a single word of rebuttal, without any stubbornness or refusal. He should’ve fucked you so long ago.

         Bucky’s vibranium index finger traces over your spine, from the very top to the bottom, sending a chill all throughout your body. It only cools you off for a second, before he uses that same hand to push you forward until you’re slightly bent over the sink. His flesh hand dances across your ass, deftly dipping between your legs and making contact with your wet folds. He drags two fingertips back and forth there, collecting your wetness before focusing his touch on your clit. As soon as he applies pressure, your back arches and your ass presses back against him. That’s when you feel his hard cock, standing fully erect, nearly between your ass cheeks. He’s big. So big that for a second you fear there’s no way he’ll fit inside of you, but something tells you that you were made for his cock. It’ll fit. He’ll make it fit.

         “You can’t stand to be around me, but you’re nearly dripping for me.” Bucky says lowly, rubbing slow circles against your clit. A string of moans slips past your lips and he smiles as he watches your eyes close in the mirror. “That’s it, you like that, don’t you?”

         “You talk too much.” You snap, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze in the mirror. His smile darkens and he pulls his hand away from your clit. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. Suddenly, his ring and middle fingers plunge so deep inside of you that you see stars. He curls them, dragging his fingertips against the walls of your pussy over and over. He didn’t start out slow by any stretch of the imagination, no. He begins fucking those two fingers in and out of you at such a perfect pace that your legs begin feeling weak far too soon. You grip the edge of the bathroom sink so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

         “You don’t even have to answer me, baby. I can tell you like it.” Bucky punctuates his words with another hard thrust of his fingers, and then curls them again, in a way that makes that familiar knot in your lower stomach tighten more and more with each passing second. You try to drown out his voice, focusing instead on how fucking skilled he is with his hand. Bucky’s mesmerized as he watches you draw closer and closer to your orgasm. He almost wants to let you have it. He considers finger fucking you straight through it, and then giving you another on his cock, but he isn’t going to be that nice to you. If he only gets one orgasm here tonight, then so do you.

         The whine that leaves your lips when Bucky pulls his fingers out of you should embarrass you. You should absolutely hate how needy you are for him, but you feel his cock twitch against your ass when he hears the sound and you love it.

         “You like that, don’t you?” You tease. You love using his words against him. You do it often in arguments and he hates it. His jaw clenches, but he says nothing in response. Instead, he wraps his flesh hand around his cock and gives it a few quick strokes before lining it up with your entrance. He looks down between the two of you, letting his eyes roam down your arched back, straight to where his cock is poised and ready to slide in. He knows he’s big. He knows his cock is above average, both in thickness and in length. He knows the nice thing to do would be to warm you up a little more, build up to using three fingers on you before finally fucking you slowly until you adjust to his size. But the two of you aren’t ever nice to each other.

         So, Bucky begins pushing the head of cock inside you, letting his head fall back and his fingertips leave bruises on your hips and waist as he holds you firmly in place. He’s only an inch in and you’re already feeling the sting. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had. He hasn’t even let you get a look at his cock yet, but as he forces it into you, you’re thankful he didn’t let you see it first. You might’ve chickened out. Bucky isn’t even halfway in before you’re moaning and trying to pull off a little, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp.

         “Stop fucking moving.” He seethes, his head snapping forward so he can look at you in the mirror again. “You’re going to take all of it.”

         Everything was a blur when he finally bottomed out inside you. He didn’t even pause once he was fully inside you, he immediately began dragging his cock back out and then pushing it in again. After the third thrust, you started to feel pleasure.

Bucky alternates between watching the way you’re falling apart for him in the mirror and looking down to watch his cock repeatedly disappear into the most perfect cunt he’s ever fucked. He truly can’t decide which view he likes more. The first time you moan his name sends him into a tailspin. He has no control over the way he fists your hair in his right hand and yanks you back against his chest, keeping your back arched and your face perfectly visible in the mirror. He fucks his cock into you so relentlessly, repeatedly hitting just the right spot inside of you, that you’re sure your previous thought was right. You were made for his cock. There isn’t a doubt in your mind.

When you start pushing your ass back against him, meeting each of his thrusts, Bucky bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. When he started this, he had every intention of finishing inside of you. He wanted to do it without anything between the two of you, he wanted to cum inside of you so deeply that you’d feel his spend dripping out of you for the rest of the mission. But suddenly all he wants to do is cum in your mouth. He wants you to know what he tastes like. He wants to see what you look like on your knees for him. The harder he fucks you, the more he thinks about it, until he’s positive he won’t be able to finish this any other way.

So, not even a moment later, Bucky is pulling his cock out of you and pushing your shoulder downward. You instantly understand that he wants you on your knees, and you oblige him without giving it a second thought. When your mouth opens without even a second of a pause, Bucky slides his length past your lips. His head falls back and a sinful groan graces your ears as he revels in the feeling of your tongue gliding along his shaft.

“Good girl.” He groans. Good girl. Fuck. The praise has you snaking your own hand between your legs, chasing your own release as Bucky uses your mouth like he owns it. In his mind right now, he does own it. After a few seconds, he looks down at you once again and notices what you’re doing with your hand. You moan around his cock as you rub circles over your clit and the vibration from the sound sends Bucky right to the edge. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You look up at him, your eyes giving him clear permission to let go. You want him to cum in your mouth. Another groan is ripped from his chest, and you hear your name fall from his lips just as you taste his cum. Your own orgasm comes crashing down right as he’s finishing in your mouth, and he watches you closely as you carry yourself through it.

Bucky wraps his hand around the base of his cock and pulls it out of your mouth slowly, the two of you maintaining eye contact like it would be a sin to look away. Seeing your mouth full of his cum gives him an unfamiliar feeling deep in his chest. He feels possessive. He wants you to know that you belong to him now.

As you swallow everything that he gave you, there’s only one way to describe how you’re feeling. While you still hate this man with every fiber of your being, you feel like you belong to him now. Your body isn’t your own anymore.

You belong to the man you hate most, and you kind of like it.

TAG LIST (if your user is crossed through, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you):

@gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @fandomsfeminismandme

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #mcu #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

[harmonictechnicality]

*wrote this for @vecnuthy's birthday, so here you go babe! i baked you a word cake 🥰🎂* *ao3 link here*

Nobody gets cool shit on their birthday after the age of sixteen - Steve stands by this statement firmly. That year, he got his permit. And by yuppie parent default-mode, he also received his first car.

He almost, almost had a quarter-life crisis on his twenty-fifth birthday. Steve was seconds away from buying a motorcycle. Robin was very dramatic about this decision, kept threatening to order his gravestone if he followed through on an impulse purchase. 

This, however, would’ve nullified his Adults Get Lame Birthday Gifts theory entirely. So Steve apologized to the salesperson, and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. Robin canceled the order on his gravestone as well, thank god.

Gifts have continued to be lackluster every year since then. And his 30th birthday is no exception to this rule.

A gift card from his parents. A pair of athletic socks from Dustin. And a t-shirt from Robin. Essentially, the starter pack of Welcome to Adulthood. 

Except for one minor detail:

The shirt from Robin is exceptionally soft. Bamboo fibers or something, he wasn’t really listening to her description. Even the color is soft. Muted red, almost pink. Everything about it is soft. Airy. 

Touchable.

Okay - that’s not an observation Steve makes upon receiving it. But it’s one that Eddie Munson will never let him forget. 

The first time it happens is a week after Steve’s birthday. The two of them hit up a bar on the outskirts of town. A place Eddie frequents a lot, occasionally dragging Steve along as his Token 9 to 5 Friend.

“Welcome to the Dirty Thirty Club, man!” Eddie crows, already diving into Steve’s atmosphere for a hug. 

“Thanks! Good to see you, Munson.” Steve chokes out, returning the massive hug with a single pat on Eddie's back.

The guy always gives the most suffocating hugs, fucking cages Steve into his arms and steals the breath of out his lungs with one squeeze. Steve has to inhale through his nose, smells the soapy steam rolling off Eddie’s skin.

Shower. Eddie just showered before meeting him here. It’s so fucking clear by the way he feels damp, smells clean.

Steve hates that he notices that. Wishes he didn’t care about Eddie’s hygiene schedule. But the scent of shower gel is addictive, breathing it in fast. Big gulps of fresh air. Lungs extending like they can capture Eddie's atmosphere and keep it there.

Okay, seriously. Steve thought his Eddie Munson Crush had been buried with the rest of his trauma back in 1993.

“Dude. This shirt is so soft, holy shit.” Eddie is rubbing his hand all over the back of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pushing into the fabric.

“Uh yeah. Sure is.”

Eddie must’ve blazed up back at his place, it’s the only reasonable explanation as to why they’re hugging for this long. Gotta be some strong shit too - strong enough to make him sound completely blissed out over a damn shirt.

He’s is humming now, both hands petting Steve’s shoulders, one on each side. Pinching the material, twisting it till it curls around his index finger.

“Gotta get me one of these bad boys.” Eddie chuckles, turns it into a playful growling sound. “Could touch this all day.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve does an awkward wiggle out of the embrace. He looks down at his shoes, cheeks growing warmer as he continues to take Eddie’s words entirely out of context. 

Look, the sensible part of his brain knows that Eddie is talking about the shirt. That’s it. But the insufferably needy and more prominent part of his brain wants Eddie to be talking about himself in general.

That he could touch Steve all day long - shirt or no shirt.

Right. Steve needs a splash of water on his face. Could use a splash of water on his goddamn imagination too. Dilute the delusion for christ’s sake.

It happens again about four months later. Lucas invites the whole crew over to throw a surprise party for Max’s promotion at work.

Of course, Eddie is running late - he didn’t fail senior year twice solely from his shitty GPA. But showing up late to a surprise party? That’s a new level of risky. Not everything has to be a thrill-worthy adventure. Ugh.

“Max should be getting off work right about now.” Lucas explains, peering around the living room. “So everyone should head to your designated hiding spots.”

Nobody budges, just carrying on with their conversation.

“Alright, asshats - you heard Sinclair!” Steve snaps at each of them, glares for good measure. “Find a hiding spot or get the fuck out.” He gives a quick nod to Lucas, who still looks severely stressed, eyes ready to bust out of his skull any minute.

The coach-esque threat does the job. Everyone, ducks into place, voices descending into whispers. Whispers descending into shushes as the minutes draw closer to Max’s arrival. Steve is folded up behind the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. 

There’s a small creak coming from the front door. A few people yell 'surprise.' Steve peaks to the side to see Lucas shaking his head at them.

“No, nobody move.” He instructs, voice caught between a yell and whisper. “I was just letting Eddie inside.”

Instinct takes over. Steve twists around the corner of the couch, needing to see for himself that Eddie is here. That he really came.

Clearly, he didn’t move fast enough. Although he could’ve sworn he moved so embarrassingly fast that the vertebras in his back sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies (post-milk). 

But no one is there. No Eddie. No Lucas. No one.

“What the-” Something grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling at his collar. A few people start aggressively shushing him.

“Chill out, Stevie.” Eddie is right there, meeting Steve’s face with a lopsided smirk. He’s close, way too close. Still holding the collar of Steve’s shirt with one hand, stretching it out. Keeping them close.

“Just trying to check the tag,” He releases Steve just an inch or so. His voice is so hushed, the quietest Steve has ever fucking heard it. “Wanted to see where I might be able to purchase such a godly article of clothing.”

“Ever heard of a thing called boundaries?” Steve hisses, swatting a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

They haven’t talked much since that night, barely any interaction for four months. But watching Eddie lean in, angling his head lower to study the tag on Steve’s shirt, hot breath on his neck…

It resets the clock. Flips the hourglass on Steve’s feelings for him.

He’s infatuated all over again, and all it took was Eddie invading his personal space. Just like he always does.

“You’ll have to ask Robin.” Steve whispers. Tries not to flinch when Eddie smooths Steve’s shirt collar back into place. “She’s the one that bought it for me.”

“Damn. Buckley has good taste.”

“Sure does.”

No distance is created. Neither of them move away. Eddie’s eyes continue to sketch over every stitch in Steve’s shirt, every hemline. He seems hyper fixated on it, too fixated to notice Steve’s pink-ish cheeks, thank god. 

If it weren’t for the shirt, Steve would assume Eddie is checking him out, looking him up and down with a heavy gaze. Dark pupils, casted darker by the dim lighting.

“Can I?” Eddie raises a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He pauses, lifts an eyebrow at the end of his question.

Steve’s jaw is too tight to answer or counter back with a joke about how Eddie never asks permission before popping personal bubbles. All he can do is nod a little too eagerly.

Eddie reaches into Steve’s sleeve, rubs the material from the inside. A small grin forms on his face. He looks so pleased, purely amused. That’s enough to untangle Steve’s muscles, relaxing under Eddie’s light touch. 

But that’s the other thing. He’s barely touching Steve. Every now and then, his knuckles roll over Steve’s skin. Really, that’s it, that’s all he’s doing. And god, Steve craves more.

Eventually, Eddie switches it up, pinching the material between the pads of his fingers. He scoots closer to Steve’s side to do so. 

Time feels paused. Time feels rapid. It’s going nowhere and already slipping through his grasp. All Steve can think about is placing his hand underneath Eddie’s chin, bringing his lips up to his own. Kissing him till the clock stops ticking. Till the sand stops running.

“Softest shirt ever.” Eddie gives the material a slight tug. Smiles wider.

Steve gulps. “If you say so.”

“I mean, seriously - it must be made from the glow off an angel’s halo or something, cause damn.”

“You’re a trip, Munson.” 

Steve has to keep telling himself that Eddie is obsessed with touching his clothes - he’s not thinking about taking them off of Steve. No matter how much he wants that to be the reality of the situation. 

It’s not.

They stay like this till the doorknob clicks, turns. Steve almost forgot that he was at a party, surrounded by other people. 

Immediately, all of his senses flip back into Extrovert Autopilot. Everyone jumps out, yells a combination of surprise and congratulations (because they failed to coordinate that apparently).

He stays in this zone for the rest of the party. Talkative and breezy. Charming the pants off Max’s coworkers with silly little anecdotes about her as a kid. 

Steve is damn good at hosting. It’s probably in his white-collar bloodline or some shit. Still, anytime Eddie walks by, he glitches up. Temporarily out of sync.

He doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Eddie ducks out early, waving broadly before slipping through the front door.

Time does that weird thing again. Feels paused and rapid all at once as he watches the door shut behind Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Lucas nudges him.

“Yeah.” The gentle gesture returns time back to normal. Brings Steve back into this moment.

“Doing just fine.”

It’s all he thinks about for weeks. Anytime there’s a lull at work or a commercial break on television, Steve drifts. Pictures Eddie is in his shirt, the one he’s so obsessed with.

At first, it’s just that. Basic. Eddie standing in front of him, wearing that muted red, almost pink, shirt. Sometimes smiling, sometimes expectant. Either way, it’s always enough to make Steve’s neck feel flushed, creeping up to his cheeks.

Gradually, it evolves into something more complex. A fantasy, almost dreamlike. He imagines Eddie running his hands all over himself, his torso, his chest. The thin material of the shirt moving and shifting under his palms. His head tipping back, lips plush and red from where he’s gritting down, biting hard. Holding back sounds.

Those images get Steve in trouble. Panting on conference calls and boners at his work desk. 

He’s alone in his apartment when it grows, branches off into darker urges. Desires. Steve glances down at the floor, can’t help but wonder what Eddie might look like down there, staring up at him. Wearing Steve’s clothes. Begging Steve to take them off. Rip them, ruin them.

“That fucking does it.” Steve scolds himself, scolds his dick too. He’s calling Eddie Munson right now - before he has time to overthink it.

His hand is trembling as he picks up the house phone, dials out the number he didn’t even know he had memorized. The trembling thing is kinda embarrassing, but it's still better than sticking it down his pants and jerking off while the Cooking Network plays reruns in the background.

Every ring feels drawn out. Stretching time like taffy. 

Eddie picks up on the fourth taffy-length ring. “Eddie here.”

“Hey, man.” His voice comes out all strained, bone-dry.

“Shit. That really you, Harrington?” 

Apparently his voice comes out unrecognizable too.

“The one and only.”

Eddie snorts loudly into the phone speaker. “Doubt that very much - seems like a common enough name.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, smartass.” Steve rubs his neck, scratching his skin. Working his way to extracting the words out of his throat. “So um… you busy tonight?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers.

“Cool. Me neither.”

There’s silence after that. Well, almost silence. Just a slight hissing sound from the phone line can be heard. Not enough sound to make things less awkward though.

Steve has no good reason to be so antsy, so wired with anxiety. They’ve been friends since metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan back in ‘86. So being outwardly weird around Eddie? It’s too damn fishy. 

“Is that it?” Eddie says. “Did you just want to bond over our empty schedules?” 

Of fucking course, Eddie would call Steve out on his weird bullshit. Doesn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass. 

Bad time to think about Eddie’s ass.

“Come over.” Steve blurts out. Needs to say something before a parade of ass-centric images start back up in his mind. “I ordered way too much takeout and there's a stack of movie rentals that I need to binge to minimize those late fees, so yeah… come over.”

No response, even the background hissing from the speaker cuts out. Maybe the phone line went dead. Or maybe Eddie hung up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abruptly ended a conversation, perpetually flouncing to whatever is new and shiny. Always distracted. 

“What kind of takeout?” He finally responds.

“The Greek place with the kickass tzatziki sauce.” Steve smirks, already knows the answer before Eddie can utter another word. 

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Eddie arrives in less than an hour, actually. Knocks on Steve’s door exactly 51 minutes after Steve gets off the phone with him. It’s slightly disturbing that Steve suddenly turns into a math whiz when he’s fawning over someone.

Someone that fawns over his clothes more than him, but who gives a shit about logistics?

“Fucking starving.” Eddie says, slamming the door behind him. 

Steve smiles, motions his head toward the kitchen. “Help yourself, dude.”

The plan is so stupid. Half-baked at best: get Eddie out of his shirt (and jacket), and into Steve’s shirt instead. That’s it. That’s all Steve’s got so far.

But it’s better than nothing. So what the hell? It’s worth a shot.

He waits until Eddie has stuffed his face with a decent amount of spanakopita, fully reclining on Steve’s couch. Looks incredibly comfy, too comfy to move.

Good.

Steve grabs the strawberry sorbet from his freezer, the one Robin forced him to buy after going vegan last spring. He scoops a bowl for himself and a bowl for Eddie. Exhales the last bit of his self-respect before returning to the living room with the most boring dessert option ever.

“Here you go.” Steve says.

Eddie scrunches his nose at it. “The fuck is this?”

“Sorbet.”

“Why am I not surprised that the former rich kid prefers sorbet over ice cream?”

Steve sputters, takes the bowl back before it further offends Eddie somehow. “That’s not… I didn’t… it’s actually-”

“Deep breath, Stevie. I’m just teasing you.” Eddie yanks the bowl back, shovels a brain-freezing amount into his mouth. “Far too easy, by the way. Give me a bit of a challenge next time. Makes it more fun… for one of us, at least.”

“Fun. Sure.”

“The one of us being me.”

“Got that.”

Steve decides to take Eddie’s ‘challenge’ remark as the perfect cue to set his stupid plan into action.

Steve pretends to shift around on the couch cushion, getting situated. Does this until he ‘accidentally’ fumbles the sorbet. Spills it all over Eddie’s clothes, his distressed black shirt, his dark gray sweatpants. All of it. Makes a much bigger mess than he intended to.

Eddie jumps up. “Goddamnit, Harrington!”

“I am so sorry!” No he’s not. If anything, his apology is more smug than sincere.

“This shit is sticky as hell.” 

“Really sorry, man.” Steve hands Eddie a few stray napkins, like that’s going to make a difference.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one of the most juvenile tactic that Steve has ever pulled. Truly, it tops the overused movie theater-yawn tactic.

“Here - let me get you a change of clothes.” Steve offers, already heading to his bedroom. He’s walking and talking and fucking fidgeting. Suddenly paranoid that Eddie can see right through him, see all his desperation on display. Splattered everywhere like strawberry sorbet.

He turns back around for a split second. “I’ll throw those in the wash. Have them dry and ready to wear again by the time you head out.”

“Oh…” Eddie keeps patting down his clothes with a sopping napkin, barely listening. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His acting performance is fucking dismal. Over the top. Porno-level obvious. Must be karma for all of those times he gave Robin and Eddie shit about being in an improv club. Makes a mental note to never mock their nerdy hobbies for the rest of his life.

“Well, it must be my lucky night.” Eddie calls out from the bathroom door, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume.

“What makes you say that?”

“Bestowing the holy grail of shirts upon me? Allowing me even one hour in downy-soft paradise?” Eddie is using that tone, the one that’s boozy and savory. Borderline mean. Equally hot and annoying. “Possibly the greatest of olive branches you could’ve offered up.”

“Christ, you’re dramatic.” Which is so hypocritical after the stunt he just pulled.

The bathroom door swings open and nothing could’ve prepared Steve for how good Eddie looks in his clothes. The shirt is snug through the sleeves, loose through his chest. Makes Steve realize how differently built they are. The waistband on the athletic shorts is sitting low on his hips, maybe a size too big. If they were any bigger, they’d slip right off. Landing all tousled around his bare feet…

Okay, Steve has got to snap the fuck out of it. He rubs aggressively at his eyes. Needs soap or military-strength detergent to fucking cleanse whatever is going on with him lately. 

“We could watch something.” Steve says, even though that’s exactly what he’s already doing.

Watching.

Eddie shrugs. Leans against the wall. “We could.”

“Or… I don’t know.” Steve can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s arms. His pale skin looks even lighter against the reddish tones. The waves and curls of black ink look even darker. Just a splash of color has turned him into a landscape of extremes. 

“You don’t?” 

“Um…” Steve flops, flounders. Scrambling for an idea. A coherent thought. Anything. “Cards. We could play cards.”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkles, then quickly straightens back out. Nodding politely. “Sure, we can do that. If that’s what you want to do.”

Steve mumbles something about grabbing a card deck from the storage closet, although he’s pretty sure it’s unintelligible. Makes a quick escape, jogs at the weirdest tempo known to mankind. 

Flirting with a longtime friend is throwing him for a loop. Many loops actually. Theme park amount of loops. All of his usual ease and charm are being denied access. Not tall enough to ride this ride.

The closet is packed with junk, so finding a deck of cards is obnoxiously difficult. He’s tossing coats into piles and shoving shoes into corners. Between his nerves and his determination, Steve is working up a goddamn sweat.

“Need a hand in here?” Eddie’s voice startles him. Steve jolts backwards, straight into a shelf of puzzles. Tons of pieces go flying, some landing in Steve’s hair. Redecorating the fucking closet with tiny bits of colored cardboard.

Fantastic.

Eddie backs away, arms crossing into his chest. “Jesus, man. You’re freaking me out.” 

“Sorry.” Steve says. Shakes the puzzle pieces out of his hair.

“Is it the shirt?” The question sounds genuine. No jokes, no sarcasm. “Does it look that bad on me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t know how to respond. The shirt looks amazing, that’s not the problem at all. It’s just… “Um, actually-”

“Look, I know I’m not a pastel heartthrob.” Eddie gestures directly to Steve before waving his arms around. He starts pacing in the tiny closet, just ranting away. “And let’s fucking face it. I’m not getting any younger, so I doubt I can pull off this slim-cut style the way I used to… but come on. It can’t be that repulsive, right?”

“Eddie.” Steve frowns. 

“Shit, that bad?” Eddie smacks a hand to the top of his hand. Grabs a fistful of his hair and looks down at the shirt, still rambling. “We’re using first names now? What’s next? Gonna bust out my full legal name? My birth certificate? Then we’ll really mean business.”

Okay, yikes. And Steve thought he was the stressed one. This is going south very, very fast. He needs to curb the self-destruction that’s happening in front of him. Just… reach out. 

“Hey.” And Steve does. Literally. He places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sucks in some courage. He waits until Eddie makes eye contact, breathes at a less neurotic speed. Then he exhales all the courage. Turns it into honesty instead. “You look… you look good.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“No, I mean it. It’s different. But in a good way.” Steve skims his nails against the fabric, drawing shapes into Eddie’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“You do?”

Steve nods. Bites down on his lip, flicks his eyes to Eddie’s mouth. “Like it on you.”

The energy between them is thick, clinging to Steve’s skin. It’s new except it’s not. Steve has felt it before. At the bar, the party, that random Thursday in 1993. He recognizes the flex and curl in his stomach as Eddie takes one step forward, then two. The feeling is familiar and strange combined. Knotted tight.

Eddie raises an eyebrow before taking another step. Like the day behind the couch. Quiet permission, one he doesn’t ask for often. Only when it means something.

Steve lets the hand on Eddie’s shoulder fall slowly. Catching the material at the bottom, tugging it forward. Prays to fucking god that’s all the permission Eddie needs.

“You were right.” Steve lets his hand drift back up, landing in the center of Eddie’s chest. Wrinkling and smoothing the fabric underneath. “It really is soft.”

Eddie’s breath hitches up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice drops lower, richer. “Could touch this all day.”

Eddie thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drifting into the small space between them. He places both hands on Steve's cheeks and kisses him firmly. Steve presses in deeper, breathes out through his nose so that he doesn’t have to break away. 

It’s so good, kissing like they’re teenagers behind the bleachers. So swept away in the heat and hunger that they’d be late for class. Showing up to study hall with blotchy skin and achy lips. They keep kissing just like that. Feeling, exploring. Lingering in all the areas that seem to make the other person hum or gasp.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers. His hands push up into Steve’s hair, combing it back, pulling in down with an edge. Hard enough to make Steve tilt his head, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah?” Steve replies. Barely a question, too lost in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his neck. 

Eddie rubs his mouth over the edge of Steve’s jaw. “You’re so…” 

The sentence stops right there, never gets finished either. He nuzzles over the wet spots of skin covering Steve’s neck. Marks them all up with a gentle nip, not enough to leave bruises. Just enough to make Steve shiver.

Steve is making so many breathy noises, which should be humiliating. Pathetic for someone who’s had fucking loads of first kisses, even more makeout sessions.

But none of that really matters, his age or experience or slutty track record. Nothing counts when being kissed like this. Nothing can stop Steve from taking this moment, eating up all of the sounds and sensations. 

Fuck, he wants all of it. Wants Eddie closer somehow, on top of him, beneath him, surrounding him.

He can’t stop tugging at Eddie’s shirt, well… his shirt. No doubt that it’s stretching out, close to ripping it. Keeps pulling it anyways - dragging Eddie into him till Steve’s back is pressed up against the wall.

“Come here.” Steve curls a finger under Eddie’s chin, brings his face back up to him. Not nearly done kissing him stupid, square on the lips. His mouth is warmer now, a few degrees hotter from sucking Steve’s neck. Licks into Steve’s mouth, gets him to whine at how good it feels. 

The washing machine timer goes off, buzzing throughout the whole apartment. But Steve can’t let this end, he can’t.

Except for the buzzing won’t let up. Continuously interrupting all the delicious noises that Eddie makes whenever Steve bites over his bottom lip, gets it nice and puffy between his teeth. 

“Should we...?” Eddie smushes his nose into Steve’s before motioning to the door. 

“Yeah probably,” Steve unclaws his hand from Eddie’s waist. Kisses him once more before sliding out of reach.

As he walks down the hallway, heading into he laundry room, he hears it. Eddie’s voice, still inside the closet. Chanting the same phrase over and over again:

‘Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Holy fucking shit!’

Steve cracks a smile. Kind of hard to believe his heart is chanting the same damn phrase. So full of adrenaline, fucking crumbling under this wave of raw emotion.

Really, he never thought he’d find himself in this situation. Holding Eddie’s clean clothes in one hand, thumbing over his kiss-bitten lips with his other hand. Impatiently craving to get back to where they left off, hopefully on the couch or bed or floor this time.

“Hurry it up, will ya?” Eddie whistles behind him.

“What’s the rush?” Steve tosses the clothes into the dryer, doesn’t turn around because his self-restraint will be fucked if he does. 

“My lips are getting cold.”

“That’s the best line you got?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie says. “You sucked out all of my brain cells with your mouth. Can’t expect me to be Swayze-level smooth after something like that.”

No way he’s allowed to be so damn cute comparing himself to Patrick Swayze. As if they're even in the same league. Endearing, really.

“You can head back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve pushes a few buttons on the dryer. The timer starts, another reset on the clock.

Feelings that flip the hourglass once again. 

He really fucking hopes it never runs out this time. 

Eddie is perched on the floor, flipping through the channels on the tv. He's squinting at the harsh light because for some insane reason, he always insists on watching the tv in total darkness.

Even that’s cute now. Annoyingly cute.

Steve joins him on the floor, instantly slouching into Eddie’s arms because he can do that now. Completely allowed to be sweet and gross and smitten. 

“Guess my theory was wrong after all.”

“Hm?” Eddie replies, still mindlessly channel-surfing.

Steve gives Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek (because he can do that now too), and looks at the shirt. Muted red, almost pink. Soft and touchable. “Apparently, you do get cool birthday gifts as an adult.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

This thing between him and Eddie. It feels longer than running sand or ticking timers. Longer than their years of friendship. Maybe not timeless…

“I’ll tell you later, Eddie.”

But pretty damn close.

#steddie #steddie fic #Steve has a really soft shirt and Eddie can't stop touching it #that's it. that's the plot lol.

[fastcardotmp3]

rockstar!robin, manager!steve, music journalist!eddie AU for funsies

On my first day shadowing her for this article, Robin Buckley tells me that her greatest fear in the world is not the massive crowds that flood arenas at every stop on her ongoing international tour, not the looming anxiety that her blooming success may be fleeting, not even a joke about how she worries this piece will make her look. No. On the day I meet Robin Buckley, she tells me the scariest thing on the planet is rabies. "By the time the symptoms set in, you're already dead," she says, walking with long strides towards her dressing room in the endless backstage of the Indianapolis Fieldhouse. "And I don't know about you, but death by raccoon is not how I want to go out."

I ask her if that's because it's not rock-and-roll enough, if such a mundane last stand doesn't match up with where she sees her life going these days, but the first thing out of her mouth in response is laughter.

She tells me maybe with a toss of her hands, asks me if I'm a music journalist or a shrink, and gets immediately pulled into a conversation about whether she's done rehearsing with her favorite guitar so it can be prepped stage left.

I try to stick around, try and get the inside scoop on how Robin Buckley prepares for a show, but I'm usurped by her fucking guard dog of a manager who fjsakdlfjaslkdfja FUCKING jesus CHRISTfsj

Eddie slams his hands down on his laptop keyboard and strains his neck back to look at the ceiling which is, quite frankly, an idiotic decision for a guy who gets motion sick on vehicles the size of, say, your average tour bus.

Don't get him wrong, he loves a good tour bus, loves the press van, loves the sweaty mess of a thing filled with people competing for clicks and desperate for the best quotes and--

Yeah, okay, maybe he doesn't love it, but if he's ever going to get enough notoriety in this business to write the sort of rock n' roll histories he grew up swallowing hole in the back room of his uncle's trailer, he has to go on a few shitty assignments.

Shitty assignments for alternative rock, one-hit wonders and their fucking hyper-protective managers who carry around lists of topics they're not allowed to bring up around Miss Buckley as if the girl herself isn't a goddamn open book.

How can the guy put a moratorium on her fucking home life if she herself sits down with the lowly press at lunch and twirls out story after story about her hippie parents teaching her how to roll a blunt when she was twelve years old?

How is Eddie supposed to write this damn article let alone his magnum opus if the advent of the internet has made managers and publicists everywhere so goddamn paranoid that Eddie has to use an anecdote about rabies as his hook?

Who is Steve Goddamn Harrington to tell Eddie how to do his job?

It's not that Eddie even wants to tear his little star apart; Eddie actually likes her contrary to the tension headache overtaking him on the ride between Indy and Columbus, but how is he supposed to prove why to readers if he's not allowed to say anything?

On his first day on this tour, Eddie had been forced to sit on this very bus and get a lecture from Steve Harrington, who has apparently been leading Robin's team from the small town get-go, and who is apparently God or whatever, and the thing is the guy's a prick.

He's downright insufferable, assumes the worst in people and expects their best behavior nonetheless, and Eddie can't stand his guts.

Except.

Except on day one of this tour, Steve Harrington gave them a terse lecture befitting a high school principal on the bus and then turned around and talked to the driver about his family for ten minutes before hopping out and going back to work.

And except, when they were in Chicago, he was screaming in some guy's face backstage and Eddie thought he'd discovered the real Steve, only to find out from a crew member later on that the guy in question was getting fired for trying (and failing) to hide a camera in Robin's dressing room.

And except, most of the time Steve Harrington is stern and bitchy and protective but the first time Eddie saw him talking to Robin before a show the two of them were laughing. Bright in ways that can't be faked.

Joyful.

Eddie looks back down at his computer and curses the man who is making this job so much more fucking difficult than it needs to be. Robin Buckley is a good story, without need for any embellishment.

Her start is interesting, where she comes from is interesting, her sound is even interesting despite its overnight popularity and worst of all Eddie likes her.

She's kind and open and smart as a whip-- apparently speaks four languages and is working on a fifth. She's got this sharp edge to her where she doesn't take an ounce of shit this industry throws at her and Eddie doesn't have to stretch to understand why her fans adore her.

God, he wants to write a good piece about this fascinating kid from Hawkins, Indiana, and he wants to write about the manager who she constantly reminds them she owes all her success to because how did that happen.

Eddie wants to be a fly on the wall when those two talk about ice cream, the weather, anything and he wants this article to be the one that gets him that goddamn book deal. Get Jonathan the high profile photog gig he deserves and Nancy the co-writing credit they've been dreaming of since college.

But there's still the guard dog in the way.

There's still Steve Harrington.

On the first day manager and good, Midwestern boy Steve Harrington introduces us to the star of the show, he tells us, "a toe out of line and I'll have your credentials stripped so far down the only paper that'll hire you has a whole page dedicated to Bible verses."

And as a good, Midwestern boy myself? I believe him.

Eddie thinks there's a story here, and he thinks he's the one savvy enough with loopholes to find it.

He's got three more hours 'til Columbus to figure out how.

#dot fic #dot post #steddie #stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things au #steddie au #have your saturday night ramble I had a thought threw it up and now it is yours peace and love <3 #i've never written quite such an AU au but i had fun with this!

[ariesbilly]

Modern au harringrove would be so annoying like first of all dating billy would raise Steve’s status back up to its former glory and give him a much needed confidence boost that makes him insufferable

So then you have the two top dogs of the school dating, at every party together up each others asses (both literally and metaphorically), egging each other on like only they can to drink and fight and party.

They’re both insanely jealous so god help anyone who tries flirting with them or so much as stares for too long. And they’re protective too so double goes for anyone trying to start shit, which is rare cuz everyone KNOWS to back off. Usually problems come at basketball games when the other teams try shit talking. Never ends well. Only thing keeping billy from being kicked off the team is he plays so damn well and gets them a lot of points.

They’re always together in dates, always driving around town when there’s shit else to do. Always on each other. Can’t keep their hands off (neil simply does not exist in this scenario he’s gone 😌)

Walk down the halls of Hawkins high with their hands in each others back pockets, wear each others clothes/jewelry to school, rule the whole damn place. Their senior prom is the first time Hawkins high designates two kings as class royalty. The yearbook photo is contested by many the pta but the harringtons name outweighs everything so ✌🏻

#harringrove

[alternativefriend]

A witch and his ghost - BSD Fantasy AU

"God damn it!" Chuuya exclaims.

 His pointed hat had slipped over his view again.

 Wind whistles. Quiet. Not a word.

Chuuya lets out a gasp.

"Fuck!"

He falls, butt first on to the cobbled path.

"Sorry Chuuya-san! I didn't notice you there!" A sweet voice calls out. And that sweet voice belonged to one Atsushi Nakajima. The town's very own were-tiger. "It's fine, kid." Chuuya grumbles back. "I wasn't looking where I was going either."

Atsushi reaches out a hand to the young man on the floor. "Need help up?" "Nah, I've got it."

And with that, Chuuya springs back on to his feet.

Atsushi just stares for a bit. Then..

"Ah! Sorry, I've got to get going now Chuuya-san! Kunikida's going to get really annoyed if I don't hurry up!" Atsushi darts away.

"Have a good day!"

Chuuya lets out a sigh. 'Insufferable as ever.. yet.. not as bad as that damned mackerel.' Chuuya makes a start down the cobbled path in front of him.

"Come on boy! Let's go!" Chuuya mumbles. Out of the shadows, waltzes a sleek black cat.  It lets out a chirp before hopping on to the shoulder of its master. "Tsk. Where were you?" Chuuya questions the cat. It gives its master a nonchalant glance before licking its paw.

The man simply ignores the cat on his shoulder.

It is a common occurrence between the two.

A sort of silent discussion through mere expressions.

.

.

.

"Fascinating.."

Chuuya lets out an ungodly scream before whipping round and punching whoever just spoke, his feline companion holding on for dear life.

"Ouch.. Chibi-san really can't keep to himself, can he?"

That voice.. Chuuya would recognise it anyway. He's had seventy years with that mackerel after all.

"For god sake.. what do you want Dazai?" Chuuya grumbles. "Hmm, you!" Dazai says with a grin. "Oh fuck off." Chuuya responds. His cat lets out a grumble before Chuuya strokes him. Dazai's eyes light up with excitement. "Can I-" "No." Chuuya quickly cuts him off. "But-!" "No." Dazai's shoulders droop & he sighs. "It was worth a shot." Dazai mumbles.

"..."

"..."

"Fine." Dazai's eyes light up again & he circles around Chuuya quickly. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Dazai says before he starts to pet the cat. The cat purrs & leans into Dazai's touch.

Chuuya looks away as Dazai looks up. He tilts his head. "Jealous much?" *Dazai questions, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Chuuya huffs. "As if."

Dazai stares at him for a moment. "Chuuya?" Chuuya turns. "What-" He's cut off as he feels lips press themselves against his own. Soft lips that taste of sake..

His hat is pulled down over his eyes. Chuuya groans before he fixes his hat & by the time his eyes are uncovered, Dazai's gone. Chuuya looks at the sky. 

"Every time.."

#chuuya bsd #nakahara chuuya #dazai bsd #dazai osamu #soukoku #fantasy #witch #ghost #dazai's supposed to be a ghost but it doesn't really get mentioned :D #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #bsd atsushi #atsushi's there #barely tho

[awingedinsect]

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 8

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: cursing, talks of injury, talks of homelessness, there’s a general 18+ content warning for this entire series and it does get a tiny bit interesting at the end here. Yearning Vessel gets his own warning.

“I got you a present.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

The little girl smiled, raking up a fistful of sand.

“It’s a surprise, silly.” She said. The breeze was blowing her hair, and Vessel smiled as she pulled it out of her sweet little eyes. “For your birthday.”

He remembers the smell of the ocean, the sound of the grey waves crashing on the shore. He remembers sitting there for hours with her, watching the tide come in as the sun made its journey behind the clouds.

He chuckled. “Aw heck, you didn’t have to do that.” There was a big smile creeping up on his face. “…Do I get a hint?”

“Well, mom paid for it, but I picked it out.” She said, yanking up a few pieces of grass poking through the grout. “and no.” She made a zipper across her mouth, beaming up at him with specks of sand scattered on her pink cheeks. “My lips are sealed!”

“Hey, Vessel.”

Vessel looks up from the pan he’s scrubbing, turning on the faucet to rid it of the suds. The water soaks into the cuffs of his hoodie.

“Hm?”

IV stands beside him casually, shrugging the leather jacket he performed in over his good shoulder.

“I’m heading into town. Anything I can get for you?”

Vessel sets the pan down on the drying rack, hands spidering a little desperately over the pile of dirty dishes in search of his next target. “Oh, no thanks,” he says, blinking at the guitarist’s reflection in the window then immediately looking down when his is in the pane too. He still looks tired, eyes bloodshot and hollow. Almost like he’d been nearly sacrificed and since possessed by an anonymous deity.

“You uh, driving?” He asks, glancing over at the man’s broken arm. An unprecedented wave of guilt comes over him, and he swipes his nose on his shoulder with a sniff. The sunlight is pouring in through the dusty window and it makes eye contact feel doubly impossible. But IV just shrugs, stuffing his hand in his jean pocket and shuffling a ring of keys.

“Aye, I’m the only one up here with a license. But I don’t mind, going to the grocery is pretty much a special interest at this point. You sure I can’t get you anything? Swing by your house for some clothes?”

It amuses Vessel that there’s an unspoken understanding that he’s staying. It would be sweet, if there wasn’t also the underlying idea that he doesn’t actually have a choice. But then again, he doesn’t have anywhere else that he should be, much less a house. He wonders if they can tell. If the inability to pay another night's rent at that damn motel is as plain as the bandage on his face. God, he wants his keyboard.

Out of anything in the world, he’d take those keys under his fingers.

“I’m fine, honestly. I can take a cab to the motel lat-“

“You’re staying in a motel?”

A horrendous blush creeps up his neck, and he dumps a plate on the rack hard enough to make him wince. “I’m… temporarily a bit displaced?”

There’s not a whole lot to read on IV’s face. He just absorbs information, then says some contemplated thing in return. But out of pity or surprise, there’s something closer to concern in his eyes.

“…You got a job, mate?”

There’s a silence longer than III’s fucking legs, and maybe twice as insufferable as the man himself. Even now Vessel can hear him in the next room, quietly muttering over his collection of herbs and spell-making equipment in an attempt to guard against whatever “bullshit the cat dragged in.” II is watching the tv, sipping a soda and giggling at whatever's on the discovery channel.

Vessel’s big eyes finally gather the strength to look up in the window, mouth twitching as he meets IV’s own.

“…I sing.”

And that’s what he does.

That’s how that day passes, and the next, and the next… at first, he’s nervous. Just settles on the edge of the couch to watch the three of them take positions, falling into the flow of practice as easy as a stream into the sea. II looks about as at home behind his drum set as a tree in the woods. Vessel has never seen so much cohesion between a person and their instrument, and it fills his gut with an almost jealousy, seeing something so flawless performed with such ease.

IV forgoes his guitar, obviously. But he still brings a lot to the performance by presence and a few vocals alone. II wasn’t kidding when he said the man could scream. The sound scratches Vessel's ears so gorgeously, he could legitimately start crying.

And then there’s III.

He stands front and center, that same flowery jacket on his shoulders. He looks concentrated. In tune. And yet there’s an ease that rolls off of him so fabulously it can’t help but feel like a subtle challenge.

Vessel watches his fingers move over the strings, rings glinting in the grey-ish light of the foggy forest.

And he feels… something.

He watches them play for an hour before II begs him to join. There’s something in those blue eyes that is undeniable, no matter how out of place he feels. And soon there is a mic stand in front of him, adjusted about three levels higher than he found it.

“Bring Me to Life.” III mutters. And without a piano, the first sounds are nothing but a few chords plucked by his nimble fingers.

The challenge is no longer subtle.

Vessel rocks on his heels, fingers splaying delicately down the side of the mic stand before gripping it low and still for his mouth to caress.

“How can you see into my eyes…”

A very quiet “oh hooo” of impending excitement comes from somewhere behind the drum set, and Vessel smiles.

“…like open doors?”

IV’s screams of “I can’t wake up” ring in all of their ears for several days, so intense it’d be funny if not so impressive. They played for hours that day, only pausing to brew a few cups of III’s jasmine rose tea. II was right; it tasted like ass. And yet in that room, sweaty from pouring his soul into a mic and surrounded by those three, passionate freaks of the industry, he realized he was almost happy. His smile, for the first time in years, wasn’t something he willed onto his face. And if he could hang on forever to the feeling of discovering a smile instead of creating it he would.

II tells him goodnight without any prompting. Just smiles at him, and says it as easy as breathing, before heading off into one of three doors lining the hallway.

IV likes him too. He gets a few changes of clothes and a brand new toothbrush from him, and even shares an intelligent conversation about guitars once Vessel mentions that he likes to play, too. Most of his feeling is in his eyes, he’s realized. They have a way of sparkling and harboring what might be big smiles in another case when he’s intrigued or at peace. The only person who gets him to really smile, is II; When the drummer is curled up in a tiny ball on the couch with his cup of “tea” or going absolutely manic on the drums, closing his eyes and getting carried off in the rhythm.

Even III smiles then.

But not once has he ever smiled at Vessel.

Vessel goes to sleep one night, thinking about it.

What would it feel like to have III’s approval? It’s clear at this point that he’ll never make the guy happy. He resents him too much for that. And yet, he did save his life. Shouldn’t that be good enough?

Vessel doesn’t like him very much, he’s decided. Especially when after belting his heart out at the man’s command he doesn’t even get a “well done”, or a “thank you” when Vessel made a mug of that nasty fucking tea and brought it to him after practice. He just nods his head and half-way looks at him; because at the end of the day, Vessel isn’t worth his attention.

And it makes his face red as a beet.

The moon is pouring in through the window. It’s been a week since it was full, and lighting up the forest outside with him in it. The cuts on his belly seem to be healing well, and he’s planning to take the bandage off his head tomorrow and see what the hell that’s all about.

Why won’t III approve of him?

He turns over on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“You really are amazing.” II’s voice echoes in his head from earlier in the day, when he was cutting up some apples in the kitchen. “We’re all lucky bastards to have a singer like you messing around with us. Talk to III, we’ve got a gig coming up next week and I don’t know if we’d be half as good without ya!”

His eyes flutter as the darkness becomes staticy, rimmed on the left by faint moonlight and quiet as a grave with the whole house asleep. He thinks about II’s words. Is he in a band? If not, what’s he been doing up here all this time?

He’s not sure he can look at another crowd. Another waiting, patient collection of faces staring at his own until he does something impressive. Until the night goes on and terrible things have a chance to happen.

He shudders hard and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Can he sing for people?

For me.

A voice speaks somewhere between his mind and his eyelids.

Sing for me.

“I can scream loud enough, for you.” His mouth wraps around the words, muttering them softly with hardly a sound. His tongue darts out on his lip.

He really does love singing with bass.

His hand slips under his hoodie, spreading delicately over the bandages decorating him. His fingers are cold against his hot skin, searing between the pieces of himself and what III taped to him. It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.

His fingers travel down, grazing softly over the faintest of trails till they touch the band of III’s sweatpants.

God, he’s annoyed. He’s a good singer. Why isn’t he good enough for everyone? Why doesn’t that prick of a bassist say thank you when he makes him tea?

“I can scream loud enough...”

His fingertips push past the elastic, the slightest of tremors in his big hands for no reason he feels like guessing. He didn’t realize until right now how aroused he is by nothing in particular. It’s simply been too long, he thinks. Too long since he created release for all the sounds in his mind.

“…for you.”

For me.

“…Yes.”

After only a few minutes his eyes shoot wide open, full of pleading and hate as he cups a hand over his mouth and bites down hard enough to muffle a scream.

#vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token art #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token iii

[michaellikesdilfs]

I hate Derek Goffard

He makes me insufferably upset. OH MY FUCKING GOD. DEREK PLEASE DIE. i hope theres a date given for when derek died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone. everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man. where the fuck is Derek if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt. HES SUCH A PATHETIC MANWHORE UGHHH he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta/torture p*rn fanfics/the hunger games and wanted the irl version just to be edgy ill go ham.

I want to set his motorcycle on fire with him on it so bad. ill punch derek and his sad frail ‘alpha male’ twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final motorcycle he kept on him at all times and I’ll eat it in front of his corpse. I'm going to pulverize him into dust and then snort him. 

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point. 

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING DEREK GOD DAMN FOOL MOTERCYCLE HUMPING SAND EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING DEREK STOP DEREK I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP HOBBIES WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT. THIS BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME EVEN IF NOT IN THE ROOM. GET AWAY FROM ME 

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said Derek waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

This man has never showered I just know he has penis cheese. He is such a spoiled blond boy I hate him I hate him I hate him he seems like the type to leave all those ‘fragile men reviews’ on the Barbie movie GOD I HATE THAT MANSPLAINING BASTARD.  I’m currently curled up in a ball sobbing why does he look like taht stop it Someone make it stop there’s blood everywhere I hate Derek he’s probably the type to think periods are liberal propaganda I hate him I hate him I’m going feral why am I shaking why. IF I GET ONE “didn’t ask” COMMENT IM GOING TO CONSUME MY LIMBS. IM CURRENTLY CHEWING ON MY DRYWALL OUT OF PURE RAGE I just know he watches mlp and has a crush on twilight sparkle and Kins rainbow dash

“I Kin Rainbow dash and Applejack bc I’m awesome and I’m kind and I’m brave and I’m Loyal and… 🤓🤓” -Derek

(this is all a joke btw it’s ok if u like Derek I just have this BURNING hatred for this fictional character. This is mainly a parody post of the JURGEN LITNER rant LMAOO)

#derek goffard #tpof #btd #im going insane #derek tpof #derek the price of flesh

[warmaidensrevenge]

Edward Munson you fool

Pairing: Friend!Eddie x friend!plus size reader

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

A/N: so this was a request I just had to do. Thanks @salenorona23 for it. Hope you like it. As always feedback and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you in advance. This was inspired by the little clip of Chrissy and Eddie being "cute". It hurt more than I care to admit. So here goes nothing.

Warnings: sexual implications, language, arguing, self harm, mentions of blood and not proof read and no word count.

Summary: Eddie's relationship with Chrissy is not all it's cracked up to be. His best friend tries to get him to see the truth but he refuses. Instead he is cruel and pushes her away.

💔🎵😡

It was almost unbearable seeing them together. How incredibly different they were. But hey opposites attract and what not. It's bullshit. The whole thing was asinine. Eddie should not be with her. But he was. Damnit! Chrissy Cunningham of all people. She stole your best friend's heart. That stupid wench.

No she really wasn't a wench. She was actually very sweet. It was nauseating. You had been Eddie's best friend for like forever. He was the only person in this God forsaken town who got you. The real you. The only person who saw past the thick exterior straight to your heart. He saw something in you that you never even saw in yourself. A girl who was beautiful on the inside just as well on the outside.

The moment he laid those big chocolate brown eyes on you he had your heart. Did he know that? Well no. Did he ever give you a hint that he liked you more than just a friend? Nope. Were you too much of a coward to actually admit your feelings for him? Damn right you were. But there was something there. You just knew it. But that something came out as loving friendship. Which you had to settle for.

Eddie had started seeing Chrissy after their encounter in the woods. You could imagine how that went. Him being his eccentric self. Showing her he wasn't scary at all. It was stupid to say the least. Well because you knew that. And a handful of others knew that. So why all of a sudden was Chrissy so into him now? She had never glanced his way before. Maybe she saw in him what you always did. He was funny and theatrical, he was very smart even though he chose not to embrace it. He was kind and caring. He was beautiful and just overall an amazing creature.

How anyone could ever get the wrong idea about him was pathetic and just plain WRONG! So when it came to his new relationship he was happy. So you had to be happy for him. He spent so much time with Chrissy he had almost completely cut you out of his life. Which really broke your heart. Yes you loved him but you were willing to shove that love to the deepest part of you. Just so you could remain friends. Because well, Eddie Munson was important to you and you thought that you were important to him. By his actions though, it was clear to you that you were just an after thought.

That's when the bullying got worse. Normally you had Eddie there to be your knight in shining whatever to keep the dillholes at bay. But since he wasn't around much you got it ten-fold. You guest it was because of the years spent being his number 1 girl. Now becoming dead last. What made matters worse was when your cat died.

Eddie had gifted Mortisha to you on your 14th birthday. It was a stray all black cat that his uncle said he couldn't keep. He knew you would love her and take care of her so he brought her to you. And man did you love that cat. Burying her was one of the hardest things you had to do. But to do it without your best friend only made the pain insufferable.

Thank God Eddie wasn't your only friend though. You had Nancy, Robin, and the handsome Steve Harrington. You guys have been friends ever since freshman year. You were the one who actually introduced them to Eddie. Which might have been the best idea you had ever had. Nancy helped Eddie with his school work when you couldn't. Robin got him to stop smoking. Which you tried like hell to do. And Steve, well Steve was a tag along. Attached at Robin's hip. It was good though because Eddie enjoyed the male companionship. But it was Steve who told him about Chrissy wanting to buy some mind altering substance. Which Eddie was happy to oblige. Something about corrupting a cheerleader engulfed his mind. Something you would later regret.

So as the relationship between Eddie and Chrissy progressed you spent most of your free time with Steve and Robin. They were pretty freaking awesome. You liked how the bickered and play fought. It reminded you of your relationship with Eddie. You missed him a lot and Steve could tell. He decided to take you under his wing and try and find you someone to date. He took you to parties and what not. But for some reason he was the only one to drive you home. Your relationship with Steve was entirely platonic. And that was okay for you and him. Yes he was beautiful but, he was no Eddie. He knew you had feelings for him but he kept that to himself.

...

Eddie did notice that he saw less and less of you when he started seeing Chrissy. And he really did miss you. But Chrissy easily got his attention with her lips. He had fun with her. Alot of "Fun" but they didn't have anything in common. He thought it was weird at first but he grew to accept it. He always pictured himself with someone like you. So pretty and sweet. But a total hard ass when the time called for it. Someone who liked the same things he did. Who listened to the same music like you did. Someone with your laugh and your smile. Someone who wanted the best for him like you did. Like how you challenged him in ways that were exciting. Hell if he had to choose someone it would have been you. But here he was with the head cheerleader. Beauty and the beast. He of course was the beauty.

...

3 months into the relationship you were sitting in your normal spot at the hellfire table when Eddie decided to bless you guys with his presence.

" Hey there sweet cheeks. Long time no see. Hey did you get your hair cut?" He said giving you his signature grin.

" Edward." You gave him a thin lip smile.

" Oh shit what did I do?" He pouted.

You rolled your eyes and continued to read the Newsweekly you had bought early that morning. You were reading this bullshit about D&D. You scoffed and slammed the magazine on the table. Eddie was eating pretzels and jumped when you did that.

" What is it pretty girl?"

" Nothing just a bunch of hogwash about cults and D&D."

" WHAT?!" Eddie picked up the magazine and went on this huge rant.

Making an ass of himself. He was always so cute doing that. You smiled as he got up on the table and went on about tossing balls in laundry baskets. You laughed when he made a face at Carver. He was always doing shit like this. When he was finally done he sat back down and grinned at you.

"Don't ever change Munson." You grinned

" Don't plan on it sweet cheeks." He winked at you.

You felt your cheeks flush and you looked away so that he wouldn't catch that. But he did. He noticed everything about you. How you wore your hair on campaign days, how when you had to sneeze you would always rub your nose with your finger tips before. How you would always stopped him from buying you food because you weren't hungry then steal his fries. He would always got extra just for you. How even though you were a big girl you were always cold. Even on a hot ass summer day. Eddie was your own personal blanket and he loved it. He loved how soft you were. Just how darn cute you were. But he had a girlfriend and he couldn't see you that way.

But when you left the table suddenly he was sad. He really did fucking miss you. Missed the talks and the snuggles. He missed how awful you sang to his records. Missed your overwhelming need to feed him. You were his best friend and most loyal friend. Well until later that night.

...

When Eddie hopped off the table you saw Jason Carver leave the cafeteria. When the doors were almost shut you saw Chrissy hanging on him. That wasn't suspicious at all. You had gotten an ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach. You looked at Eddie and he smiled making your heart sink. That beautiful boy with the heart of gold would never know how much you loved him.

Feeling overwhelmed by your misery you got up and left. You didn't say a word because you could feel the tears approaching and you didn't want anyone worrying about you. Especially not Eddie. You hid a lot from him lately. You didn't want to but he was too preoccupied. And you didn't want to ruin his new found happiness.

See the bullying had gotten so bad that you had started to self harm again. You had been so good when Eddie entered your life. But now it was too much. It started just a week after Eddie started seeing Chrissy. Someone put gum in your hair. That you had to cut it. Your hair meant everything to you. You were growing it for your mom who had lost all her hair from chemo therapy.

The next time someone stole your clothes during P.E and replaced them with much smaller ones. You had just gotten out of the shower when you noticed your clothes were gone. So when you went back to grab your P.E uniform it was gone too. You were so embarrassed. Everyone was laughing at you and you went in the closet and cried. You dug your nails deep into your forearm breaking skin. The pain made you feel better. It calmed you down enough to call your pops to bring you clothes and went home for the day.

And the next time someone groped you. Touching between your thick thighs. Then they claimed they smelled fish. You went home in tears and showered for so long that the cold water didn't bother you. You really didn't smell like fish but by God you were going to make sure you scrubbed long and hard. Once you were satisfied and sore you got out and faced yourself in the mirror. You hated what you saw. You pulled open the medicine cabinet and took out one of your dad's single bladed razors. You made a 2 inch incision in your inner thigh. Once you felt better you cleaned yourself up and got ready for bed. You regret it as soon as you laid down. You should have called Eddie like you promised. He made you swear to call him whenever you felt like this. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You didn't want to ruin his day by it.

So when you walked out of the cafeteria you found yourself in the parking lot. You heard constant mooing and pig noises when you walked through the hallway that you just needed the fresh air. You saw Chrissy flirting with Jason. And when you snuck closer they got in his car and started to kiss. Your hands shook out of anger. You strolled right up to the car and banged on the window. That's when you saw Jason's pants unbuttoned and Chrissy's underwear in the back seat. She looked at you with such fright. She got out of the car and came to you.

" Y/n please! It's not what it looks like!"

" Really! So you just weren't hopping on Carver's dick? Real classy. Last time I checked you were in a relationship. You know the one with my best friend."

" Best friend?! Please you don't even talk anymore."

" Seriously?! You are so fucking dense! I kept my distance because of you! Because he was happy with you! You are such a piece of shit for doing this to him! But you and him. You're done."

" No! Don't tell him! It-it meant nothing. I-I love him. I love Eddie." She cried.

" Save your tears for someone who gives a fuck sweetheart!" You yelled before you stormed off.

You were in such a rage you had no idea what to do. You had to tell him. Fuck! Why did it have to be you that saw that? Why did she do that? How could she do that? How could she do that to poor Eddie? He was a god damn good person. He didn't deserve that. No one did.

...

You were outside of his trailer pacing back and forth. You were chewing your nails trying to build up the courage to do this. You didn't want to break his heart. But you had to. It was the right thing to do. It was your duty as his best friend to be honest with him. You were never afraid to tell others what was going on in your head. Even with Eddie you could be brutally honest with him. But this information had you questioning your ability to be straight forward.

"C'mon girl. For Eddie sake.'

You were just about to walk up the steps when he came out. He jumped back scared

" JESUS H CHRIST Y/N! WHAT THE HELL?!"

You put your hands up to show you meant no harm. You backed away as he jumped off the top step to the ground. You smiled when he grinned at you.

" What's going on pretty girl? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine evening?"

" Oh umm I wanted to see you. Umm haha. I uhh missed you, you loser."

Eddie leaned back a little and narrowed his eyes. But his suspicion went away quickly.

" I miss you too sweet cheeks. Come here."

He came and pulled you into a bear hug. God he missed you in his arms and the way you smelled.

You breathed him in and wanted to cry. Why did it always feel like home in his arms? No. Stop that. You have to do this.

" Eddie?"

" Yeah?"

" I umm I have something to tell you."

" Is it really important because I planned on hanging out with Chrissy right now."

"YES!"

" Whoa there what's going on?" He said pulling away a bit.

"EddieIsawChrissyandJasongoingatitinhiscarandandimsorry" it just came out so fast.

" Okay. Umm what the hell did you just say? Calm down pretty girl. What was that?"

You took a deep breath. " Eddie, I saw Chrissy and Jason going at it in his car. Eddie, I-I I'm so sorry."

Eddie dropped his arms and took a few steps back. "What do you mean "going at it"?"

" They were having sex." You said stepping closer to him but you stopped when he took another step back.

" You're lying." He chuckled but you could tell he was serious.

" Eddie, why would I lie?" You were actually hurt that he would think that.

" I-I don't know maybe you... I don't know.. you like me or something."

" I.."

Eddie gave you a look you had never seen before.

" Shit y/n that's it isn't it? You like me and you created this stupid fucking lie so that you could break us up."

" Wait. What?!"

" Yeah c'mon y/n that's a new low. Even for you. What did you think would happen? That I would leave Chrissy and what? Be with you?"

" Hold on. What the hell is wrong with me?" You. Were. Pissed.

" C'mon. Do you really think I w-would be with with someone like.. like well you know."

Now it was your turn to step back and go on the defense. " No Edward. Enlighten me."

"Man fuck y/n! You know I hate when you call me that."

" I don't give a shit! What the hell did you mean?!

" You know a girl like you."

Girl like me?

You scoffed. Oh now he's done it. " Right poor fat y/n huh. So big no one could love...you're a real shit friend you know. No I didn't tell you that because I like you. I told you that because I'm your best fucking friend and you deserve so much better that that poor excuse of a human being."

"That's not-"

" No fuck you Eddie! What the hell is wrong with you?! You were supposed to be my friend. But I get now. You are just like everyone else. No matter how hard you try to be different or how much you try to hide it you really are a fucking asshole. "

" Me?! You're the asshole here. You just come out of nowhere lying to me."

" I DID NOT LIE EDWARD! I NEVER LIE TO YOU!"

" So you're tell me you don't like me and Chrissy did have sex with Carver?"

"NO. I mean yes."

" Well what is it?!"

Your breath was shallow and your heart was racing. " I do love you okay! I have loved you for a very long time. But that is not the reason I told you this okay. You know what. Believe me or don't. I don't give a fuck anymore. I was just trying to be a good friend. Something you have most definitely been lacking lately"

" What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

" Seriously?! Have you been so blind to not notice the hell I've endured the past few months?"

" How in the hell am I supposed to know what's going on with you if you don't even talk to me?!"

" That's because you haven't been around for me to talk to. You're always with her. And I have to admit that yes I was jealous. But that's because she took my best friend away from me. I needed you and you weren't there. You weren't there when I buried Mortisha and you weren't there when I had to cut off my hair because someone put gum in it. Now my mom can't use it. You weren't there when someone touched me without my permission. I...I know I shouldn't depend on you to save me all the time. But you promised you would be there. Always. And -and you weren't. And-and I hate you....So you know what.... We're done. Friendship terminated."

You got in your car and peeled out of that trailer park not looking back at him. You finally let the tears come. You couldn't believe you just did that. Why in the fuck would you say that? You could never hate him.

...

Eddie didn't go to Chrissy's that night. He had no idea what the hell was going on. Why hadn't you told him? He would have been there in a heart beat regardless of who he was with. Did you really think he would abandon you like that? And who in their right mind would touch you without asking? He was going to find out and beat the living shit out of them. He really didn't believe you when you said that shit about Chrissy. So he made a decision to keep seeing her.

Eddie hadn't seen you all week. Even if he did how could he have apologized without sounding like such a fucking tool. It was Saturday afternoon and he was watching Chrissy at practice. His mind kept going to you and your face that night. How absolutely hurt you were when he said a girl like you. He honestly didn't mean it that way. He actually didn't know what he meant to say. He was just so damn mad. But he really didn't think you were fat or anything like that. You were truly one of the best looking girls in all of Hawkins if not the best.

You meant more to him than you would ever know. But how could he show you that? He was with someone. He wasn't a cheater and he cared about Chrissy's feelings. But he did love you. He really did. He just didn't know how much.

The sound of crying broke his thought process. He shook his thoughts away and saw Chrissy holding her arm on the ground. He ran to her.

" What happened?"

" I'm so sorry Chrissy. We were there. We were right there."

Someone said but Eddie wasn't looking at who said it. He picked up Chrissy and ran to his van. He drove erratically to the hospital and got her in.

...

That Saturday you were hanging out with Steve and Robin. You had been staying with Robin all week. Not wanting to go home just in case the devil showed himself. You had spilled your guts to them about what was going on with Eddie. They both tried to get you to reconsider the friendship but you had to be strong. You meant what you said and that was it. Period.

After a pretty good morning you had to go home and grab some clothes. Steve offered to drive you. So you let him. You guys were joking around and singing to Madonna. Eddie would have killed you if he knew. But you know whatever. Steve turned down the music.

" Hey I got you something."

"Oh yeah? It's not my birthday is it?" You teased.

" No no. I just saw it and I thought of you."

"Awww...ok what is it?"

" I uhh I think it's in the back."

You turned to look for your gift but didn't see it. You hadn't noticed Steve swerving a little as he tried to look. When you sat back down you saw a glimpse of a deer.

" STEVE LOOK O-"

He swerved and the car and it flipped. You closed your eyes and your body flung in the air. When the car finally stopped rolling you were outside of it. You tried to sit up but it was too painful.

"STEVE!...STEVE!....STEVE ANSWER ME!"

"Y/n! WHERE ARE YOU?"

" Oh thank God! STEVE ARE YOU HURT?!"

" NO. IM OKAY. I'M JUST STUCK."

" FUCK!" You grunted as you forced yourself to get up.

You finally got to your feet and stumbled over to the driver's side. All the glass was broken and Steve's belt wouldn't come off. You found a piece of glass large enough to cut the belt. You handed it to him and fell back onto the ground. You were feeling so dizzy and sleepy.

Steve cut himself free and climbed out of the window. He came and kneel next to you. He saw a large chuck of glass embedded in your side. You looked pale. He took off his shirt and pressed it around the glass. But it was quickly soaking up blood. You were bleeding too much and too fast.

Good thing the road was slightly busy when a good samaritan stopped to help you get to the hospital. You weren't thinking straight at all. You closed your eyes when Steve lifted you carrying you to some random car. The last thing you remembered was picturing Eddie's big brown eyes.

...

Eddie was sitting in the E.Rs waiting room. He had just broke up with Chrissy when she confessed what she did. She seemed to be really sorry about it. And Eddie had such a kind heart that he appreciated her for telling him the truth. He agreed to be friends but he really didn't think that was gonna happen. He was sitting there for a while thinking how to finally tell you he was sorry. That's when he saw Steve carrying you in. All he really saw was Steve with his shirt off. He was so fucking mad. Did Steve try and do something to you? Everything told him that Steve hurt you and he lost it. Her ran after Steve but he nor Steve wasn't allowed to go back with you.

Eddie pushed Steve up against the wall and held onto his neck. " WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HER?"

" AHH! EDDIE...STOP!"

" WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

A security guard came and pulled Eddie off of him.

" Hey hey. It's okay he's my friend." Steve said making the security guard let go of Eddie.

Eddie went to charge again but Steve backed away and held out his hands. " Stop it! We got in a car accident....and she was thrown from the car man... she uhh she's in really bad shape. She lost a lot of blood."

Eddie felt like his whole world stopped. The air from his lungs disappeared hearing those words. That's when he saw it. The blood all over Steve.

" Is that?" Eddie pointed.

" Yes now sit down before you pass out." Steve lead him to a chair.

"How...how are you okay?"

" I had my seat belt on man."

Eddie turned to him. "She wasn't wearing a seatbelt?"

" Yeah. She was looking for a gift I got her."

" What?"

" Yeah I got her and well you matching friendship bracelets. But uhh I don't know where they are now." Steve sighed.

"God Harrington. She's gonna be fine right?"

" I hope so. It's all my fault Eddie. I'm so sorry."

"It was an accident. She's gonna be fine. She has to be. I gotta tell her I love her man."

...

Days went by and Eddie stayed there the whole time. You weren't out for a long time. Eddie had donated blood because he was a universal donor. He had hoped it would help you. But he was missing too much school without a valid excuse. Which was bullshit. You were a valid reason for him. So he decided that he was gonna repeat his senior year for the fourth time. He knew you would be pissed but he had to be by your side. He was there every single day. And he was there every night.

When you woke up a week later you were actually happy to see him. For a few moments you felt important to him. But that went away quickly. Eddie went to to get you some snacks when he ran into Steve.

" Hey man. What are you don't here?"

" Uhh y/n called. She said she's going home today and she wanted me to take her home."

Eddie was confused. Why didn't you ask him to take you home?

" I uhh I'll take her. You don't know how to keep four wheels on the ground." He chuckled.

" Uhh alright let's go tell her." Steve patted him on his back and they went to the room.

You were getting dressed and the guys turned around to give you your privacy.

" So umm y/n Eddie said he would take you home."

"What? No!....I umm mean I really would like for you to take me home Steve. Sorry Eddie."

Eddie turned around and you didn't look at him. He looked over to Steve and he shrugged. Eddie took one last look at you and left.

" Why didn't you want him to take you home y/n?"

" Look Steve don't get me wrong. I still love Eddie. But I can't even look at him without my heart breaking. I could have died and I have this new look on life. I'm not wasting my time on someone who thinks I'm a liar and doesn't feel the same way."

" Y/n c'mon. You know Eddie cares about you and he loves you. He's been here every single day. He's your best friend. You guys can get through this. You guys can get through anything."

" Not this. He was so mean to me. You weren't there. You didn't hear him. And he doesn't love me."

" I don't need to know what he said. I know he cares. You are important to him. That's just fact."

" Steve please just take me home. I want to sleep in my bed tonight."

" Alright, let's go l/n. Don't worry I'll keep both eyes on the road this time."

"You better. Or make sure you actually kill me this time."

" Shut up!"

" Bite me Harrington."

...

You woke up the next morning tired as hell. You went to your parents room and gave your mom a kiss. It was early and your dad was already gone.

" You hungry mom?"

" Yes sweetheart. Can you make me some eggs?"

" You got it."

You went to the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. You groaned. You really didn't want to see anyone today. The knocking was giving you a headache.

" Alright don't get your panties in a knot. I'm coming." You said out loud.

You opened the door and saw Eddie. He was smiling holding up a bouquet of flowers.

" What are you doing here Munson? Should you be with your girlfriend?"

Eddie nervously laughed. " I uhh. We broke up. Seems like you weren't lying after all."

You crossed your arms. " I told you I would never lie to you."

" Right. Right. Look y/n I'm sorry. I should've believed you."

" Yeah you got that right."

" Chrissy told me everything. And we agreed to be friends"

You scoffed.

" I told her that it's a good thing to end it. Because well pretty girl. I told her I love you."

" Right as a friend. Cool Munson good for you. Bye now."

"No y/n wait."

You stopped from closing the door and he stepped closer.

" y/n, look I really do love you. You are the first girl to ever treat me right. The first one to care and appreciate me. And even though I have been in love a few times. I have never been this in love with someone. See pretty girl with you it's different. With you it feels right. And I didn't think you felt the same so I had to let you go. But, I can't do that any more. You mean the absolute world to me. You are my sun, my moon, my stars. There is just something about you that makes my heart tingle when you're near. Your voice calms me. Something about you makes me fall in love all over again....it's you sweet cheeks. It's always been you...So what do you say pretty girl?... Be with me... Like we were always meant to be."

Eddie fucking Munson just crushed your heart all over again. How could he stand there and tell you such things.

" A girl like me Edward. That's what you said remember... Kick rocks Munson."

You slammed the door in his face. And he just stood there so dumbfounded. " That was not what I meant y/n."

" Yeah well it still hurt." You said through the door.

Eddie grinded his teeth and shook his fist.

" you listen here sweet cheeks. You will forgive me and you will be my girlfriend because I'm yours forever. I will show you."

" Good luck." You said with a smile

...

#fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x female original character #eddie munson x you #stranger things #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie x reader #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #plus size reader #eddie x chrissy

[ediewentmissing]

The sky seeping through your yellow curtains was ablaze with the fiery yellows, reds, and pinks of the setting sun. The pale, crescent moon was just starting to rise on the other side of the sky, and the crickets were humming outside gently, indicating that it was the end of yet another god-awful day.

Your bedroom was peaceful. The light on your bedside table was coating the walls in an orange-y tinge, making the flames on the candles scattered around your room seem less harsh and the band posters stuck to the walls illuminate. The box TV in the corner of your room was on, televising the latest hits on MTV, playing distantly in the background. The ceiling was low because your room happened to be in the attic of your house, and it made the uncleaned windows look much bigger, giving you the ideal view of the lake and woods outside, and the wallflower plants in your front yard.

Your best woolen socks were fitted snugly on your feet which were tucked under the blankets of your bed along with the rest of the lower half of your body. You twirled the phone cord around your finger, holding it up to your ear, smiling.

"I've got terrible news." You say sarcastically. A chuckle comes from the other end of the line.

"Sugarcoat it for me?"

"I'm not Willy Wonka."

Eddie's breathy laugh gives you shivers. It's so satisfying. Every time he laughs, it's as if a river of dopamine was making its way through your veins, all the way to your face, where it leaves a warm-hearted smile.

"So what is it? What's the terrible news?" He asks.

"You left your history textbook at my place last night." Eddie groans, faining sadness.

"Oh, what a shame. Whatever will I do? I guess I have to come over to your place again to go fetch it." You both know damn well that Eddie doesn't give two shits whether he has his history textbook or not, or any textbooks for that matter. And you also both know that he most certainly left it there on purpose so he could go see you again.

"I guess you will," You uncoil the phone cord from your finger, leaning back against the bed frame behind you, "I talked to Gareth today."

"You did? Where is he? Why wasn't he at school?" Eddie had been wondering about it all day. High school is brutal enough as it is, and it's ten (thousand) times worse when your best friend isn't there.

"Yeah. I called him. He knew you were going to be worried since you're such a big teddy bear an' all."

"Excuse me," He scoffs, "I'm not a teddy bear. I'm a big, scary monste-"

"Sure you are." He can practically hear your eye roll through the phone, "Gareth's jus' sick is all. He told me to remind you to 'Do your homework'."

"Oh, well tell Gareth I'm sorry because my textbook is in Y/N's bedroom." You can hear the rattling of tin from his end of the line. Just like his laugh, it's like a comfort noise at this point.

"I'm not telling him that."

"No? Why not?" He giggles. A hissing sound from a beer can being opened comes from his end, and then a light swallow of the liquor shortly after.

"You know he'll get the wrong idea. And God knows how insufferable school would be. It would be all the boys would talk about."

If Gareth, or any of the boys, were to find out, it probably wouldn't just stay in their friend circle either. It would get out to the whole school in a matter of hours. It wouldn't surprise you if it ended up on the headline of the school paper, because nobody expects the town misfit to ever be in a relationship that lasts longer than a "Hideout hookup".

"Pity." He sounded unphased, almost like he wouldn't care if your connection with one another went public, which gave you a lump in your throat. It's not that you didn't want people to know about you both. It was that Eddie would get tormented over it for ages, probably even after he finishes high school. You were the most wanted girl in Hawkins, drawn with Nancy, of course. So if it's revealed that the freak somehow managed to achieve everyone's dream of dating you, it would wreak havoc and nothing short of it.

He's disgusting!

Why does she like him?

A satanic worshipper? What's got into her?

He must've paid her or something.

You could just hear the comments that would be said.

"Uh-Uhm," You stutter, and Eddie picks up the change in your tone as you try to switch your mind's thoughts, "So, need help with the campaign for next week?" Eddie brushes off the question, seemingly concerned.

"Hey, you okay?" His worry makes your heart melt.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine, Eds. Just tired, I guess."

"I call bull. C'mon, Y/N. Did I say something?"

"No, no. You didn't do anything." You were quick to make sure he wouldn't feel guilty. Whenever he did something wrong, he beat himself up for it for what felt like an eternity. Sometimes he'd shut off and close off any and all interactions with you just so he wouldn't disappoint you again.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

No, you weren't. You knew you'd have to bring it up with him at some point. You really did want to share your relationship with him aboveboard, but the risks that came with it were much too high and much too unavoidable. Eddie was bullied on a day-to-day basis, and adding to the affliction would be selfish of you.

Despite all of this, Eddie still wanted to be open to everyone. It made you worried.

"Actually..." You say, your smile fading just a bit more, "Eddie, we should talk."

Eddie immediately thought that you were going to break up with him over the phone. Was he being too affectionate? Not affectionate enough? Did he do something bad? Did you not like him anymore? He closed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

"I love you, you know that." You say, and he sighs deeply, opening his eyes again. Those words always put him at ease; 'I love you." He loved it more and more each time you said it. I was like Jesus himself was cleansing his ears.

"But I don't want people... want anyone else, to know about us." The phone was silent for a while. He was comprehending what you just said. Eddie had been looking forward - really looking forward - to introducing you to Wayne formally, telling his friends about you, and probably even swooning about you to the drunks at the Hideout.

"Why not?" The downcast in his voice stinged you.

"Y'know how bad things will be if people know? How much you'll get pushed around, an-and... And how much people will hate you?" Eddie saw the problem now. Crystal clear. You cared about him.

"Y/N, sweetheart. I don't care-"

"-But you should, Eddie!" He was startled by your sudden interjection, "Your life will be even more dejected than it is now! C'mon. Jason's goons will be after you. And the partygoers. And those stupid cashiers that hit on me at the store-" Your voice cracks and Eddie stops you.

"-But I don't. I don't care." His sincerity makes you want to cry to a greater extent. You don't get it. How could he not care? If everyone wanted you dead, you would care. You would care a lot.

Eddie could tell you were confused, "Wanna know why I don't care?" He asks rhetorically, "Because it's you. You are who I'd go through it all for. I don't care if- if Tommy wants to drive a- a stake through my guts or if Keith wants to stuff my carcass into the back of his shitty, old car. I don't care, Y/N, because I'll have you. You make everything bearable. And to be honest, I probably wouldn't even notice how mad everyone would be at me for dating you because you're all I can see and think about."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #saintbutasadistgeneral #@your-mom18-05

[amxthystiine]

Oh god this is gonna be a long one 💀

Now, at long last we get to the meat of our tale, as we cut to our unlucky bespectacled brunette scrambling down the street to school, his heart racing as he darts through the gates right before they closed.

"Phew, that was another close call... Man, Lucy would MURDER me if I was late!"

Thomas Pascall muttured to himself, laughing and shuddering at the thought of one of his closest two friends at the moment - Lucy Franklin, an blonde, usually glasses-wearing amber-eyed formal & intelligent girl with a penchant for sweaters & vests.

She's a very strict stickler for rules and order, being quite cold and blunt, but when it truly counts she wouldn't hesitate to come to her friend's aid and stand up against injustices, or at least, that what she likes to call them.

While she does warms up to you quite quickly once you get to really know her, something about her just seemed...familiar to Tom, in a way that resonated with him. He couldn't explain it, but he felt like he knew her for years.

The same applied for his other closest friend - Emery Bower, another girl with dark brown hair and eyes who just can't be seen without either her crystal necklace, a denim jacket or her black hat with a sprig of lavender attached to it by a pinkish-lavender ribbon.

While on the surface she seemed to be the generic bratty grumpy teenager who you'd expect to yell "IT'S NOT A PHASE, MUM!" she's a truly passionate person in every way of the word, whether it be her ranting about teachers that couldn't fucking do their job or encouraging and hyping up a friend when they're down

There was just somethin about the fire that would light in her eyes when she was excited about something that you couldn't resist adoring, and yet, that twinkle in her eyes felt familiar as well, somehow.

Oh, and speaking of which-

"RAAGH!"

"HOLYSHI-"

"PFFFFTTT SHHAHAHAHA! YOUR DAMN FACE WHEN I GOT YOU LIKE THAT TOM!! I GOT YOU SOOOOO GOOD!"

"Oh come ON EMERY GIVE IT A REST WOULDJA?!"

-That's right, Emery can get a bit petty and mischievous at times. Dammit, OF COURSE she'd try to scare me when I was almost late to school there!

I sigh to myself, walking and chatting with Emery as she animatedly gesticulated her way through the wildest stories she'd hear around town.

Just another regular school day, I thought to myself as I finger-gunned, smiling cheesily at Lucy who facepalmed herself in embarrassment, flushing slightly as she walked over to me and Emery, walking together to our classes as I heard a voice in my subconscious-

"Man, when are you gonna confess to one of em?! I can tell you love em as best friends, but at this fuckin' point I think you want to be something more! Especially with Lucy~"

The teasing voice brang a specific smug clock-eyed face to mind as I heard it ring inside my head, and thus I grumbled my reply under my breath -

"Oh c'mon K, you know I only love them platonically and nothin' more. I'm not damn ready for the commitment of a partner yet..."

That voice, or the bane of my existence as I liked to think of it, is the voice of an insufferable time god that I've done a deal with to gain this time bending scythe in the first place, and now he's stuck in my head, constantly throwing snarky comments at me. Oh, uhm, right, I didn't mention that this was a part of an average school day for me.... Oh well!

I honestly feel as if there's a lot I'm not remembering, and that this guy was the crux of it all, but thinking about said lost memories just felt painful and wrong to me, so I personally just don't like to think about it much.

I do feel as if I'm forgetting something big, though.

As that last thought ran through my mind I sighed again, my head throbbing with pain. I then felt a comforting hand on my shoulder, turning around to find Lucy, a smile that lit up my life on her face. Man, I'll give the madman one thing - he wasn't reaaally too off the mark when it came to my feelings on Lucy. Maybe.

Eventually, we reached our tutor group, or homeroom, or whatever the hell you call it!!

Exhausted and still wheezing after the mad dash to school, I zoned out of the teacher's notices for the day as I gazed around the room, taking note of the others around the room.

A tall, green-&-curly haired boy in a camo shirt, black ripped jeans, green shoes and denim jacket was snoring at the back, clothes a mess as the leaf crown he always wore on his head drifted up and down with him.

Terry Woods, local intimidating guy who doesn't hesitate to use that fact about him to his advantage. Every time, consistently, the guy'd seem like he got next to no sleep when he came to school, his insomnia (or at least, that's what I'm assuming it is-) always getting worse and then better within the month. He has a younger twin, Nova, but I rarely meet her in the halls. She's a sweet girl though, if I recall.

Speaking of Terry, I think something's going on between Emery and Terry, but I'm not really sure what...they never seem to last 5 minutes without glaring at each other or being at each other's sides, and at this point I can't tell whether they want to be in a relationship or they hate each other's guts. Like, one second they're smiling fondly at the other, as if remembering something pleasant about the other person, and the next they're glaring daggers like they're mortal enemies.

Hey look, they're doing it now!

Next to him was the madman daredevil, Richard Robins. His dark blue hair and constantly pulled up hood of his blue hoodie alongside his purple-crystal attached eyepatch over his right eye makes him seem like the menacing, mysterious quiet kid at the back of the class, the impression of which he puts up pretty well, but when it's break or lunch, the only part of that description that really sticks is menace, cause if you thought Emery's jokes were bad, this fucker takes her extraness when it came to pranks and stunts and kicked it up to 11.

Heck, I've heard that the guy has a lighter on him at all hands in his hoodie pocket, ready to burn his hand covered in rubbing alcohol or something to freak out anyone around him.

I do feel a sense of familiarity about him too, but not as strong as Emery and Lucy though. Maybe we met at a concert or a meetup once? Feel like it may be a bit more important than that, but it definitely wasn't for long.

Behind both of them was the local conspiracy theorist as we liked to nickname him, the wannabe detective Martin Menthe, an amber-eyed boy who was rarely seen out of his wizard D&D cosplay outfit - and while it was weird as fuck in my opinion, I ain't denying the fact that his staff, wig and hat was made really well.

Him and some other girl, I think it was Lav(?)

"She wanted to be a prosecutor, right?"

I muttered to myself, getting a reply of -

"Yeah, you're not misremembering someone's name for once ya doofus!"

She and Martin are getting mentored by a person actually in the law workfield, which is extremely lucky, actually, considering the absolute chaos this damn city is at night. This guy is usually aggressively scribbling on something, as he was now, on a notepad while glaring at both Rick and Terry in front of him, who seem to be making a few paper airplanes together.

So, where does the "conspiracy theorist" nickname come from? Well, every now and then Martin will end up dragging a full ass blackboard into school during lunch, the board being covered in red threads and pictures and newspaper articles as he gestures wildly at the entire board, excitedly rambling with a passion that rivaled Emery's about how this accident was linked to one 3 years ago or whatever. Like, his logic is all sound and the guy's terrifyingly good at deductions and profiling, but he never really has any evidence on his red-thread boards, so I find them hard to believe. To be honest, most of the school only crowds around Martin not for whatever theory he's gonna pull out of his ass this time but for comedic content n shit as they probably make parody vids of the guy and post em online for everyone to see.

I've also usually seen him running about at night, always finding where all the fights were (somehow) and scurrying like a little rat as he tries to gather what I assume is evidence for his theories.

Or at least, that's what I think people here'd do. Either way Martin doesn't ever bothered by stuff like that, and honestly? Godspeed man. I will say though, he always hits a peak of his delirium at school around this time of the month anyways, so maybe someone should start watching his caffeine intake??? I dunno man, I'm just concerned for him, because with willpower, determination and confidence like Martin's comes the wildest of incidents, and let's just say it's not Terry or Rick or any other jock round here who gets the most hospital trips round this school.

On the desk to the left of him was Orion, a curious, polite & quite mysterious black-and-white haired amnesiac with decorum to rival royalty. Y'know, I could've sworn I've heard at least Martin ramble at least once about how Orion and Victoria were long lost royalty. Pfft, imagine that! I will say though, how we first saw him at school in full armor, sheathed sword in hand with a diadem on top probably did help his theory, but hey, we already have one cosplaying maniac on the premises so a second one wouldn't be too surprising. He probably got lost on his way back from a convention.

And while usually he is quite nice and caring to others, I still quite often see him with the three I've mentioned before. I will say, I've heard that they're roommates, but still, that doesn't really mean you have to be around them for so often out of said room- like, if you see a hoodied roommate of yours get on the building's roof somehow, holding a basketball, poised to jump as another two your roommates juggle a hoop between them, I think you'd yell at them to get down and stop messing around, and not join your first roommate by flipping through the hoop and into a bucket of water.

Don't ask. The point is, he seems to have some kinda reckless side that just kinda cement him as part of these four as the harbingers of the craziest news that happens around here.

Oh, and about Victoria, she's much more casual and cheery than Orion, and is one of his closest friends. I'd consider them a bit more considering the amount of time they spend with each other, running all around town, but they never really seem to be dating yet, despite the fact that it's obvious these two sweethearts have a crush on each other. They seem to trust each other a lot and are the closest of friends, but something about them feels kinda awkward, like as if they both feel like they're not supposed to be near the other.

It's weird man, just like most of the people here.

At the opposite corner to the Quartet Out Of Hell, sat their honorary 5th member, Jack, an energetic cheery but snarky idiot who has a habit of taking things a bit too far. As I mentioned earlier, he too hangs around the previous four mentioned, and likes to act as a wingman for them, whether it be pulling off insane stunts at dates or switching off the power supplies for the lights as to bail the other out. He's a dark blue haired kid with a yellow highlight akin to a bolt of lightning in his hair, and is usually seen in a vanity jacket and sneakers. Oh, and he's really good with tech, but letting him DJ at last year's prom was......certainly a decision.

I gazed upon my other classmates before gazing out the window, vision blurring as I started to space out-

RRRIIIIIINGGG!

-Suddenly, a sharp noise pierced my ears as I snapped out of my stupor, cupping my hands over my ears as the bell went off. Yeesh, I keep forgetting how LOUD that thing can be! Shoving my hands in my pockets, I joined back up with Lucy and Emery as we split up for our respective classes, from which the rest of the day was a blur, apart from lunchtime, as per usual.

My prediction earlier turned out to be bang on the money as I watched Martin, wizard hat askew, drag his trusty blackboard to the front of the cafeteria and opened it up to see the usual mess of red threads and newspaper clippings, except, something was a bit different about how the audience was gazing upon the board and the confidence that the theorist had while wildly pointing about the familiar images on the board-

Wait.

Is that?

No, no way, it can't be-

And yet, it was. I thought he was just joking about making this but seeing it in front of my eyes right here, right now, has really made me respect Martin's guts for doing this.

The local vigilante identity theorizing board he kept boasting about.

So, uhm, Martin had this weird theory that he kept saying he was "working on" that some people here at this school was somehow linked to the local news's headliners as, if it wasn't obvious enough already, this city's a bit of a chaotic hellhole, with self-proclaimed heroes, villains, vigilantes and anti-heroes scrambling all over the place, and while it's all fun and games hearing & witnessing the latest spat between Firecracker and the Celestial Paladin until you're the one in between them.

Seriously though, knowing Martin's luck, he'll get like 2 of these right, and they'll be the most dangerous of them all to cross, and next thing you know it he's coming to school next morning with an eyepatch akin to Rick's...

...and hey, wait, I recognize that picture! That exact moment where sparks flew between the Midnight Mage's and Monarch's staffs had a photo taken from another point of view, being featured in the front page news! I knew that green blur looked SOMEWHAT familiar...

To be honest, I think this new board may be his magnum opus so far, and I can easily tell that he sure as hell thinks so considering the smug face he's making in the corner right now. Man, some people are NOT going to take this lightly...

...I stared at Emery, curious to see what her take was on it.

And, surprisingly, (or not, honestly) she was glaring at Terry again, and he was glaring back, both with such intensity I could almost hear the crackle of electricity between them!

Lucy, right behind her, was putting up a brave face, but even I could tell she was sweating from all the way back here. Poor girl's gonna have a lot of rumours and scuffles to squash as student council president...I told her not to stress herself out on the job just yesterday as well!

"Oooooooh, man, I often see this kiddo scrambling about at night, but even I have to give him credit. Considering how destructive these scuffles can be, to be able to get even these little bits of evidence is impressive!! Gotta give credit where it'd due 'n all!"

Yet again that sing-song voice reverberated obnoxiously in my head, just what I needed after the entire cafeteria had burst out into yells and heated chatter.

"God damn it K, can you not???? Like at least is there like a volume slider up in there????"

"Pssssht, you deal with it or I take the whee-"

"NO. Especially not HERE!"

"Fine fine, calm down you idiot, I was kidding anyways...I'm no fuckin good round people and have no restraint anyways."

I probably looked like a maniac if anyone saw me muttering and gesturing to myself but eh, in this racket I'd bet everyone was too focused on spreading the word around anyways.

After the small conversation with K, the bell suddenly rang, ringing so effing loudly that even the local gossips around here shut up as they looked up in surprise. My ears are still ringing after that one...

I then caught a glimpse of the headteacher, still in that tuxedo (?) suit (?) (I have no idea how to describe it...) and mask that hid every part of his skin watching with his beady eyes from behind the cafeteria doors...something's definitely up with that guy. Of course, an investigation into him will have to wait as I already have enough mysteries on my plate to solve whatever it is, but man, I'm keeping an eye on him. I squinted at him while leaving, as to be able to somewhat communicate that I couldn't trust the guy.

But hey, I then walked to my next class and the rest of the day flew by. What can I say? I was excited for how this move of Martin's would affect tonight's shenanigans.

As I eventually opened the door to my dorm, darting straight to the bathroom as I changed and got myself ready for tonight, I take a look at my scythe mentioned way back earlier in my room's cupboard.

Look, I had nowhere else to put it ok? Worst case scenario, if someone sees it they'll think it's am elaborate cosplay accessory.

Seeing my reflection in it's blade, I grinned at myself.

Oh yeah, I never really said that I was trying to take up my father's legacy, did I?

Well, a few (years ? or months ? everything's becoming a blur to me...) back I decided to trudge on a journey as to discover what truly happened to my dad, and why he just went missing all of a sudden.

It was this search that lead me to discover his old files on researching time travel, and I then quickly connected the dots between him and the Time-Reaper, however, before he got to share his discoveries in plain clothes, he disappeared. Gone, without a trace, leaving me and my sickly mother behind as she too died a few years afterwards.

Thus, I just have to know what happened to him. You're telling me that I have to believe that he had so much going for his life, and just threw it away by ending it all or just disappearing? No. It had to be a kidnapping, or a final duel, or something if that sort!

He cared for me as a child, and I have many fond memories of all of us together...

...no, I have to get back on track. No time for reminiscing on lost time now.

Basically, I decided to take up his legacy and follow in his footsteps as to be able to hopefully get for info about him by retracing his steps.

Ok. Maybe it was a liiiittle bit influenced by the really cool idea of being a hero. But hey, what else could I do with a scythe that RIPS THROUGH THE SPACE TIME CONTINIUUM?!

I then rushed to the rooftop, clambering up the ladder as I stood on the balcony, leaving on my scythe, my hair flowing behind me in the wind. Ah, man have I missed this!

I took a deep breath, smirking as I swung my scythe back up at a carryable height, walking backwards towards the railing, flipping round it as my vision turned upside down, gazing downwards at the maze of houses and dark alleys beneath me-

I let go of the railing.

Man, I always get giddy at this part!

Twirling my scythe in front of me, I press a hidden button near the centre of the pole, causing the tip of my scythe to reveal a smaller, sharper blade, and rip a time rift that I fall into, resulting in me landing on my two feet on a street a few blocks down from my house.

I then casually walk past as if nothing happened, using the bottom spike of the scythe to sew the hole back up like fabric.

Hehehe. Like the fabric of space time. Wait, is that why it was named that???

"Yes, idiot, of course it is. For someone with a scythe that grants you the power to time travel, you sure don't know SHIT about how it works-"

"God dammit K, don't start lecturing me about how-"

We, (or, well, I?) bicker as I go on patrol round the town, wondering if Martin's sudden call out would somehow influence tonight's events. I will say, a couple of my own suspicions were on there...

I then hear a familiar flutter of feathers and the swoosh of fireballs as I lean on my scythe, turnimg around to see the shadows of a familiar person- and a much bigger beast, the wall near me showing these shadows being lit up by a bright purple light akin to fire. Yikes. Looks like Amethyst got to the Menace first. I would intervene...but I feel if I did I'd probably get horribly injured, would horribly injure someone or just ruin the flow of the fight in general. And I know that the Midnight Mage is a strong magic wielder - she could probably take care of the Menace herself, and be pissed at me if I disrupted her concentration.

Right. I, alongside two other vigilantes round here are part of a team? Kind of? It's more so like having a good colleague you can rely on. Like usually we take our own opponents on by ourselves but in cases of emergencies or situations where one person isn't enough, we won't hesitate to work together. I guess it's an alliance of sorts, then?

As part of this team, we've given ourselves codenames. The Midnight Mage is Amethyst, I'm Wisp, and the Celestial Paladin is Astrid. Some of these weird titles can be a mouthful, so we usually just stick to our codenames or nicknames based on our titles, I guess.

Letting out a small sigh of guilt on ditching my colleague, I flip around on hearing sudden yells and loud, fast-paced footsteps, only to see a blue blur leaping across rooftops, something like smoke and flames trailing on from behind it.

And moments later, from right behind me came the source of those footsteps - a nimble, green-robed figure holding what looked like a huge cup filled with and donning a wizard like ha- hey wait, isn't that-

"COME BACK HERE YOU FIEND! I WILL APPREHEND YOU!!" shouted Martin, changing towards Firecracker like his life depended on it.

Will Martin EVER give up his chase after Firecracker?! I know that he despises him for burning shit down that he considers inhumane, but he also hates Amethyst for her disregard for local property during battles! So why chase one far more than the other?! Even worse, of the two, Firecracker's the one that's far more likely to hurt you-

"Goddammit-! move outta the way! Can't you see I'm in pursuit of an arsonist over here?!"

I hear a sudden yell from behind as I was pushed out of the way, the flame in Martin's eyes being one to rival any blaze that Firecracker made. Yeah...on second thought, maybe interfering with this chase is a bad idea as well.

I turn away again, feeling less guilty as no-one knows how that chase'll end. The one guarantee is that Martin'll lose Firecracker again, and that he'll have some kind of injury to prove it.

I kept going round and round my usual patrol route but didn't find any other disturbances - apart from a couple of shadows zipping past and a crash here and there, and even then I couldn't catch whoever the hell they were.

Thus, I decided to call it a night, disappointed, yet unsurprised with the little action the night had. As I changed back into normal clothes and locked my scythe away again, I leapt into bed, ready for another day of similar tasks and a good, long sleep.

Well, that's what the boy told himself, anyways. Little did he know just how quickly his night-time excursions would escalate...

#ocs #oc #amethyst’s oc dumps #lore #writing #writers on tumblr #ig??? #loredump #tbh I got burnt out after writing a bunch of this and then decided to wrap it up before I forgot about it entirely and didn't post it :(( #like I'd rather tell the plot outline than actually write cause damn do I have stories #my dumbass just can't put it into detailed words

[constitutionalweasleymonarchy]

I’ve always loved Ron (I still do!) but the way you describe Percy is making it so hard to choose which one I love more. They are so alike I’m so many ways, than they would like to admit. I feel as Ron was close to Percy when he was smaller and after the war of course. Percy would always protect Ron from the twins bullying tactics and that’s something that I always hope is true.

Plus, you are amazing at painting a picture of Percy. Like the way he wants to prove others wrong and let the woman (or women, “Days That End in Y”, God Damn Percy you animal 🥵🥵. I bet Molly would have a heart attack if she knew about her son’s multiple relationships! Its almost if he’s the hope of the family, minus the p. 👀 😂) know that he is different from the rest of his family.

He’s such an underrated character and I truly love the way you write him. You show his flaws, attributes and most importantly his heart in each of your fics. You’ve made me fall in love with Percy/Audrey, I’ll love to read more of your work!

Seriously, now it’s difficult for me to choose between Ron and Percy, especially since I realize I relate to the both of them. Do you have a preference? Also, what was the first thing that made you fall in love with Percy?

Love, love, love the way you write Percy and your writing is amazing ❤️ ❤️

❤️

I hope you have a good night/day

I’ve always loved Ron (I still do!) but the way you describe Percy is making it so hard to choose which one I love more.

This is such an incredible compliment!! 🤩

Lmao at Molly finding out about Percy's action. I think he's still the least of her concerns probably. Remember the twins using "magic" tricks to hit on Muggles in the village? And hey, Days That End In Y Percy has a respectable three committed relationships before settling down, with a few ✨intrigues✨ sprinkled in there. 😋 (I kid, of course. BUT if you'd like to read more about Percy being the, um, town broomstick, I am begging you to read A Touch of Mystery by @edie-k !)

It's impossible for me to have a preference between Ron and Percy. As HP characters go, Ron is like my first real love, the one you never forget. When I was reading the books, I was actively bummed out whenever he wasn't on the page. Percy's the one who snuck up on me. I wasn't into him the way I am now upon my first reading of the books, but I was fond of his appearances. Maybe it's because I, too, was a driven, studious rule-follower when I was younger, but I never found him insufferable, and was kind of surprised, in a way, by readers buying into the:

...treatment of him.

Anyway, nobody wants to hear me rant yet again about narrator bias and active reading. The point is, I think when I really got into him was when I started writing my Percy/Audrey fic Irrational back in 2009. That's right, I decided to write about him before I fully loved him. I wanted to write a romance and at that time I hadn't seen a lot of Percy-centric romance fics and I thought it would be fun to explore him and the person who would love him for who he is. I didn't want him to become reformed/ transformed/ whatever by Audrey. I wanted to celebrate his inherent worth.

And with that frame of mind -- plus going back through the books to revisit his scenes (and seeing the really actually great, endearing guy staring us right in the face in black & white, whose actions and mannerisms aren't nearly as worthy of ridicule as a younger sibling's jibes would suggest) -- it was impossible not to love him.

Anyway, your comment has me all 🥹🥰 over here, and I thank you for these fun questions!

#percy weasley #I love this character a totally normal amount #hp fanfic #hp fic recs #ask me #ronsgirlfriday

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

for the 'why wouldn't date them'

charles, hawkeye, trapper

and i think you might be into twin peaks? if so, dale cooper and donna hayward

whichever ones you want to do :)

Ahhhhhh omg thank you for all of these I want to do them ALL but let's go backwards.

Donna Hayward

Ok so the thing is I AM into Twin Peaks but it's been a while since I've seen it and I tried to watch The Return but I was too stupit to understand much less enjoy it :( sowwy. So I would be dating my own flawed incomplete interpretation of a person, really. Typical Twin Peaks. 

Anyways I love Donna! I think we have similar personalities and stuff. In all brutal honesty I think if I were in her situation with a friend like Laura I’d have done similar things. Also yeah maybe her actions did lead a man to suicide but that was NOT her fault. I think the only three things that would prevent an attempt at a relationship here are 

1) The obvious. Her taste in men = atrocious. In all the rest of these hypotheticals where the character is already canonically in a relationship or has feelings for another character I’m just like yeah the more the merrier but if Donna insists on inviting her insufferable ass boyfriend into the mix I could NOT fucking do it I’m sorry. 

2) This girl is not ready for a relationship yet after All That god damn. But then again neither am I so maybe that balances out. We would need to spend some time as support group buddies just hugging and crying a lot before even considering a date. 

3) It is unlikely we would ever interact as I am never setting foot in that town ever in my life are you kidding me. Donna is super pretty in both her incarnations but I’m sorry I don’t think any pussy pops severely enough for me to risk going to fucking doorknob hell or some shit.

Dale Cooper

Ignore everything I said in that last paragraph. I change my mind. I forgot my beautiful autism creature husband is here. I would risk it all for a date with Dale Cooper and so would all who know and perceive the truth. AND he’s got two hot girlfriends with him at least one of whom is ALSO an autism creature??? Sign me the FUCK up for this polycule IMMEDIATELY. “Oh but OP what about the horrors” I don’t even fucking care it’s fine. Dale can have little an evil doppelganger. As a treat.

Still there are some problems:

1) Dale is an FBI agent and Harry is a cop. Booooooo!!!! But maybe if Annie and Caroline and I unionize we can force them to quit their jobs. 

2) Unclear if I would be forced to join the Black Lodge Horror Vision Rotation along with Annie and Caroline. Boring and time consuming task and unlike Laura you don’t even get to do a Big Scream.

3) I personally actually don’t like pie or coffee at all :( I’m sorry babygirl I understand if this is a deal breaker. 

Trapper McIntyre 

You know that “golden retriever boyfriend” joke? Trapper is like THE golden retriever boyfriend to me. Which I mean as an absolute compliment! Golden retrievers are friendly, helpful, adorable, lovable dogs. I am always up to pet a golden retriever.

But the thing is, I would never get one myself. They’re just a bit too big, bit too much energy, bit too messy, and anyways I prefer cats. No hate, no judgment, just a series of tiny preferences. Not into jocks, not into casual no-strings-attached type relationships, not super into kids, you know how it is. Boring and petty answer but I just feel like this adorable happy-go-lucky goldie deserves the PERFECT forever home and obviously he’s one of the most popular of all the dogs at the Mashblr shelter so I know he’ll get adopted super fast. So I can turn my attention to the miserable ass overbred old cat in the corner <3

Hawkeye Pierce

Oh, Hawkeye. I just don’t think so. Idk what’s wrong with me but I have to work to see Hawkeye as like. A dateable entity in my mind. He’s our little scrunkly! It’d be weird to date a scrunkly. BUT maybe I’ve just been overexposed to him purely by dint of being in the fandom he’s the main character of, because objectively I DO find Mr. Alda’s portrayal of him in certain scenes to be Attractive (TM), and seeing clips of his charisma and charm and humor and all that good handsome stuff is literally what got me to check out the show in the first place! Man. What happened. Hmm. 

I think one issue is that scenes where he’s explicitly trying to be Romantic and/or Seductive have just never done it for me. Like comparing Hawkeye’s lovey scenes with Kyung Soon to Charles’ with Martine, there’s no contest in how they make me feel. To me, Hawkeye is honestly at his most appealing when he’s radiating Friend Energy, which is why his casual relationships actually work really well IMO; you feel like he’s truly a great pal to the nurses he hooks up with. This is also, I think, one of Piercintyre’s great strengths as a ship, because Hawkeye and Trapper both have amazing Friend Energy and then their natural compatibility makes that bleed seamlessly into sweet romantic vibes. And to be clear I would LOVE to be in a Friends To Lovers relationship too but unfortunately I am cringely obsessed with loveydovey romance in a way I’m not sure Hawkeye is even capable of. Plus there’s also just the fact that I’m a shy waiting til marriage person and I suck at banter and yeah it’s just not working. In conclusion neither Hawkeye nor Trapper should date me they should date each other!! But we knew that :P

THAT CUNT

There are 10000000 reasons not to date Charles. But I will be doing it anyways ^_^ Peace and love on planet earth <3

Anyways I’m not bringing up his Problematicness as a reason here because I didn’t bring it up for anyone else and nobody noticed, so why should it be any different with him. Like no obviously I would not date this dumbfuck racist but I also would not date a guy who thinks it’s a funny prank to make a woman think she’s being sexually assaulted. I also for that matter would not date a guy who works with the dumbfuck racist and is like aw, ya know what, he’s not that bad really :) the second they have a chance to have a bonding moment. I guess I have decided to be a buzzkill about that forever now btw sorry :( oh well 

But ok no real talk I would Not date Charles unless one very specific condition is met, which is that I have whatever magic stardust they sprinkled on his single-episode love interests before they put them in the story that made him be utterly besotted with them, because more than any other character on the show, it seems, the difference between Regular Charles and Charles In Love is so hysterically huge??? Like fuck. My dudes. We’ve done it. We found the one villain who actually does do a complete 180 and starts trying to act right as soon as a girl takes pity on him enough to look at him twice. (Disclaimer: I haven’t seen Ain’t Love Grand yet I’m sorryyyyyyyy) He’s so ~romantic~ and it’s like catnip to me unfortunately. :\ The total opposite of what I said about Hawkeye up there. Offers a girl his stupid little teacup and recites poetry at her. Unbelievable. Did anyone ever think about the fact that maybe I would like to be offered a teacup and recited poetry at. No. You all only think about yourselves.  

Like even though objectively the way he nukes his relationship with Martine was hurtful to both of them, he’s so Tender the whole time it’s insane. She turned him into her pauvre petit miaou miaou overnight. I want that power so fucking bad I NEED that power so fucking bad. Say it with me everyone. I Could Fix Him. (”But OP Martine and Donna DIDN’T fix him he still left them both and never mentioned them again?” Yes but don’t worry they were just loosening the lid on his jar a little bit. I’ll get him open you’ll see. He’s gonna be soooo well trained when I’m done I’ll make him apologize to Maxwell and everything. He won’t even need the shock collar after a few weeks.)

But yeah if I have to like, try to appeal to him on my own it’s not fucking happening. I have no desire to hear the equivalent of a DOS deepfake hologram that has become evil due to being trained on text scraped from youtube comments tell me I’m ugly and stupid, which is exactly what would happen. Up til now I’ve sidestepped the issue that I do not think any of these people would give me the time of day (except Maxwell who would take pity on me probably because he is sososo Good) but I cannot ignore how much Charles just would Not like me. I don’t know how the selfshipper community does it they’re braver than any fucking US marine over there fr. Charles would look at me like I was a gross little bug on the ground and I can’t escape it. Oh well. Who needs him. Where’s your sister you dipshit I’m about to GET IT

#THANK YOU for this kind ask beloved mutual!! Sorry it got long and weird it's been a rough week and I'm afraid that may have bled through #to all these answers which I'm so irritated at myself for but I can't fix it OTL #Starky loves answering questions #majorbaby #I LOVE when people notice what fandoms I'm in it makes me so happy thank youuuu #anyways DOS leading romantic hero of all time but nobody ever let him fucking BE one. humanity deserves to be driven to extinction for this #wtf is ''You give the longest compliments I've ever heard'' ''Then let me be more succinct [adorable kiss]'' BITCH I'M GOING TO KILL YOU #WHAT IF I WANTED A LITTLE KISS HMM!!!!!!! WHAT THEN!!!!!!! #Anyways I used to get so sad knowing my favorite characters wouldn't like me. Cried alone in my room over it as a kid. #Now it's just like whatever. Join the club. #Anyways I LOVE how DOS' insanely amazing ability to sell those one-episode romances better than any other main cast member #inadvertently makes Charles seem uniquely susceptible to falling in love at first sight and being an embarrassing little hopeless romantic #which is an absolutely hysterical trait to give your rude brooding misanthropic antagonist #''I hate everyone in the world and they are all beneath me #except for this random girl I met yesterday who is Everything to me I love her SO much <3<3<3'' #SEE. LITERALLY A GUY FROM AN X READER ''I CAN FIX HIM'' FIC. #Actually in my experience most X Reader types are fairly uninterested in fixing the him in question despite all the bad press they get #like at most they only care that the Him is nice to THEM and sometimes not even that #like I'm sure this is a phenomenon IRL but it's really not there much in the kinds of fanfiction #that everyone blames for causing said IRL phenomenon #I know this because I AM an I Can Fix Him person! And I'd be the one to find Fixing Him content if it existed! #for me it's only fun if there's fixing involved tbh. I don't want a Mafia Boss Wattpad BF that's not fun. #that's literally just a guy being mean to you. do we not get enough of that IRL. I want a little project!!! #these tags are one giant red flag for me as a person but you should have known I was unsalvageable the second I begged off a date with Trap #NOT the behavior of a mentally well person #mash

[bqstqnbruin]

what were your favorite and least favorite books you read each month and why??

SOMETHING TO DO YAY I read 64 books so far (and that's probably the ending number so) here ya go

None of these books are part of the SMP boycott as far as I am aware.

January:

Favorite: The Honeys by Ryan La Sala

When I tell you this was totally unexpected holy shit. It's YA Horror and follows Mars after they wake up to their twin sister, Caroline standing over them with a knife trying to kill them in their sleep. They go to the camp where Caroline last was to try to figure out what happened leading up to her breakdown and ultimate death, where they encounter a clique Caroline was part of called 'the Honeys.' This book, I was very happy I was reading it when my roommate wasn't home/asleep because I was up at 3 am screaming while I was reading I stg

Least Favorite: Good Girl, Bad Blood (A Good Girls Buide to Murder #2) by Holly Jackson

I couldn't even tell you what happened in this book. All I know is that wanted Pip to stop with the god damn antics and just go to bed I stg

February: I actually only read two books in February so uh

Favorite: On the Rooftop by Margaret Wilkerson Sexton

Ngl, I do not remember what happened in this one. It was just ok

Least Favorite: American Royalty by Tracey Livesay

This is supposed to be a take on the Prince Harry/Meghan Markle romance but god this was just so boring to me. The royal family in this was based off real life though with how insufferable they are

March: I only read one book this month whoops

Favorite: Legendborn by Tracy Deonn

I will recommend this book until I die I swear this is my roman empire. This book took me all month to read but is so good and made me cry and I need to read the second book ASAP but it's so long that I keep putting it off

April:

Favorite: Takes from the Cafe (Before the Coffee Gets Cold #2) by Toshikazu Kawaguchi

This series is so beautifully heartbreaking and deals with time travel to see the ones you love knowing that no matter what happens you can't change anything

Least Favorite: A Tale of Two Princes by Eric Geron

I know that the book is YA and that the boys are teenagers in this but all their antics were so overly juvenile and petty that I couldn't deal with it. Like I know that they are kids, but this was so bad. I was hoping someone would just like ground them or something just so they would stop

May: I apparently only read two books again in May

Favorite: Loveless by Alice Oseman

Alice Oseman never misses tbh

Least Favorite: Paper Towns by John Green

I remember loving this in like middle school/early high school and decided to reread it and that was a mistake

June:

Favorite: Caraval by Stephanie Garber

I only picked this one up because it's the first of a trilogy that is connected to another trilogy that I wanted to read but god I love the sisters in this book

Least Favorite: The Golden Spoon by Jess Maxwell

This was just ok. It's like Great British Bake Off mixed with murder

July:

Favorite: Fake Dates and Mooncakes by Sher Lee

This book was so sickeningly sweet I stg I think about Dylan and Theo all the time I need to reread this one

Least Favorite: Belladonna by Adalyn Grace

I might come back to this one next year but like I couldn't get past the "I want to fuck death" aspect of this book

August:

Favorite: She Gets the Girl by Rachael Lippincott and Alyson Derrick

Another one that was just so sweet I was rooting for these girls the entire time

Least favorite: A Taste of Sage by Yaffa S. Santos

This is another one where I couldn't tell you what happened except that she can get sick if people make food when they're mad and they fuck on the prep table in the restaurant

September: I only read two books this month and I loved both of them

Favorite: Yellowface by R.F. Kuang

What happens when a white woman talks over the experiences of POC in the publishing world? I wanted to punch June the entire time

October: I also read only two books and really liked them

Favorite: These Hallowed Halls: A Dark Academia Anthology

I'm not normally one for dark academia but I read this book the day I bought it and didn't want to put it down

November:

Favorite: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I had to reread it thanks to tik tok and it holds up unlike other books I read when I was younger this year

Least Favorite: The Girl from the Sea by Molly Knox Ostertag

This book wasn't bad. It was just ok. I read it and kinda just went 'meh'

December:

Favorite: Stars in Your Eyes by Kacen Callender

Check you TW before reading this because it is HEAVY but god this book had my sobbing at 3 am this was the book where I kept asking if I read the library book or do I read the one I really wanted to and I read it in one sitting it broke my heart and put it together in all the right ways

Least favorite: Just Haven't Met You Yet by Sophie Cousens

I love Sophie Cousens but the first love interest in this felt so cartoony it ruined the book for me