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chelseeebe · 4 months

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everything has changed

you and steve were once the bestest of friends, cruelly torn apart when you’re forced to leave hawkins suddenly. fifteen years on, everything has changed and yet, nothing has changed.

i had this idea a while ago and then have recently become re-obsessed with the song so decided to give it a rewrite! it’s kinda giving seven x everything has changed and i love that. i have a sitcom level idea of a part two for this but i’m not sure it’ll ever come to fruition

18+. no smut but my blog is 18+ :) mostly just fluffy friends to lovers stuff hehe

‎♡‧₊˚

“you promise we’ll be friends forever?” steve asks, quirking his little eyebrows up. still so innocent, so unaware that the world was a cruel place.

“i promise!” you’d shrieked, toothy grin beaming over at him as you sat poised on the climbing frame. “we’ll write letters every week and in the summer you can come and visit!”

steve whooped with glee, the metal frame shaking from the force of his body, “okay! my mom has your mom’s number so i can call you,” grubby hands clinging onto yours.

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, wobbling atop of your tower. full of hope and your shared joy. oblivious to how the next 15 years would play out.

life hadn’t been so kind as to keep the two of you in contact. steve’s mom had tried to explain it to him, but his poor seven year old brain couldn’t quite grasp it.

it was only when he was older that he had realised what had happened.

you had been whisked away to california, your mother’s home state, far away from your dad. for your safety of course. his mother had warned him not to mention where you had gone to anyone, and he’d stuck by that.

and really, life had gotten in the way of thinking about you too much. basketball tryouts and getting girls into the back of his bmw had taken precedence over fading thoughts of freckly girls he once knew.

steve was at college now, admittedly tagging along with robin, but he was enjoying it. he played basketball, studied children’s education and had even scored himself a kinda stable girlfriend.

he’s sat in the library, book open and unread in front of him on the table as robin attempts to convince him to go out tonight.

“it’ll be fun! besides, i promised my roommate that i’d go.. y’know she’s having a hard time,” turning on the puppy dog eyes that more often than not, worked on him.

he groans, “i don’t know rob.. finals are coming up soon and i really need to get this down if i wanna graduate with you,” though he makes no effort to actually pick up the book, more interested in the coffee robin had used as a bargaining chip.

“steve,” almost warningly, “come for an hour,” nodding at him, as if to subliminally make him agree, “and then i’ll help you study all day tomorrow, okay?” tilting her head, bright green* eyes glistening at him.

“fine,” succumbing to her pleas, “but you owe me,” sending a glare across the table as he finally turns the page.

robin grins, happy she’d gotten her own way. again.

they walk arm in arm into the bar, squeezing through the crowd as they attempt to locate robin’s mysterious roommate.

steve sighs, whispering into robin’s ear, “why do i have to be here? just because your roommate is a lonely weirdo, doesn’t mean you have to drag me out too,” pouting like a petulant child.

she pinches his arm, causing him to yelp into her ear, “this is why i used to pray for the ceiling light to fall on your head in mrs click’s class,” pulling away from him as she spots whoever she’s looking for.

“wait.. what?” he calls out after her, weaving through the crowd to find her again.

she has her face buried into someone’s shoulder, blabbering about the busy bar and how good it was to get out.

robin pulls away, gesturing over to steve as this lucrative stranger meets his eye.

it’s you.

the little girl who had promised to be his best friend forever now stood before him, all grown up. he almost doesn’t believe it. in fact, he can’t. not until you speak, his name echoes around meaninglessly.

“what the fuck?” he gasps, still in utter shock.

“it’s really you? you’re.. oh my god, you’re steve of course you are,” wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, the exact way you had fifteen years ago.

you even smell the same, a distinct sort of vanilla smell that takes his mind hurtling fifteen years into the past. he almost wants to throw up from the turbulence of it all.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you gasp, still nuzzled into his shoulder, “this is so surreal,” now holding him at arms length, dissecting his face in the same way he was yours.

you looked the same and yet completely different. no more gappy smiles or sun bleached hair, very pretty. his seven year old self had thought so too, but your friendship had meant more.

“you two know each other?” robin perplexes, watching the scene unfold with zero context.

“we.. uh- yeah,” unsure of how much he can divulge, still under strict orders from his mom to never tell a soul where you’d gone.

“we were friends, i was born in hawkins so.. god, this is so weird,” you exasperate, letting go of his frame to talk to a bewildered robin.

“you’re from hawkins? you told me you were from california?” robins face twists in confusion.

“it’s a.. complicated story,” you look back at him, still trying to decipher if he was even real, “i moved away when i was young but we were like, best friends,” baring your teeth with your smile.

“well shit, i’ve got time,” robin laughs, sliding into the booth, she looks up at steve, “drinks on you.. you know, to celebrate,” wiggling her brows in that irritating way she did when she wanted something.

he dutifully obliges as you begin your story, he supposes that now you probably can.

your dad had moved out of hawkins a while ago, it wasn’t exactly a secret as to why you guys had just up and left so abruptly. steve had always hated him, made sure to glare daggers into his back when he and his mother would pass him in the street or in melvalds. he felt he owed you that.

plus steve was angry, angry that you’d had to leave him behind because of your dad. his tiny mind couldn’t comprehend that it was for the better, only understanding that it was your dad’s fault his best friend had been taken from him.

steve’s curious about california, how your life differed from hawkins. you play it off as nothing special but you smile differently when you speak of afternoons after school spent on the beach and learning to surf.

he makes some off-hand comment about making it out which causes your brows to furrow, “so did you,” tapping the table in front of him, “remember we would talk about college? living in a big house together?”

he chortles, almost choking on his beer, “yeah, with ten dogs and three cats,” shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“wow..” robin butts in, “so you did this with other girls before me?” faux-offence written all over her face.

you beam, looking between the two of them, “so are you guys dating?”

steve does choke this time, sputtering as the bitter liquid slides down the back of his throat.

“no!” they chime in unison.

“jesus christ, you think i’d date him?” robin falls into a fit of giggles, it didn’t hurt his ego anymore. robin had very particular tastes and that very much didn’t include men.

“thanks rob..” he snarls jokingly, “i uh, i have a girlfriend.. just not robin,” he’s not sure why he’s apprehensive to tell you. christ, he’d only re-known you for five fucking minutes.

“sorry, i just assumed..” shrinking into your seat, desperate to change the subject.

he’s modestly pleased that you don’t ask any more about his girlfriend, which in turn makes him feel a rotten sense of guilt.

“yeah well, to assume makes an ass out of you and me,” robin adds, giving you a poke to your ribs for good measure, “and he’s definitely not my type,” her nose shrivelling up in disgust.

you snigger, poking robin right back as she explodes into her myriad of reasons why she would never date steve. she kept a list.

there’s a sickening feeling of affinity, like all the years you hadn’t been together just ceased to exist, they no longer mattered.

especially when your eyes meet as robin prattles on, like you’re sharing an old joke.

he doesn’t like this, doesn’t fancy his odds of coming out of this unscathed but that doesn’t stop him from shifting his chair closer as the night goes on. nor does it stop him from walking you home, supporting a tipsy robin on his arm.

and it most certainly doesn’t effect him when you hug him goodnight, nestling your chin into his shoulder the way you used to.

fuck.

steve climbs down the steps into the strange smelling studio, he hadn’t even known this ever existed. there’s art littering the walls, the shelves, just about any surface that was available.

you’re at the back of the empty room, dabbing a paintbrush onto a canvas, completely unaware of his presence.

“hey.. robin said you’d be down here,” he speaks softly, so as to not startle you.

you still jump, clutching your chest as you spin on your heel, “jesus christ,” panting rather dramatically, “you scared the shit outta me,” shock turning into a wide smile.

“sorry,” he chuckles, weaving through the easels, trying his damn hardest not to touch or knock anything over, “what ya’ working on?” peering at the canvas.

it’s a beautiful scene, a lone swing set lies in the middle, surrounded by a peachy-pink sunset. it’s reminiscent of something he can’t quite place.

“oh just..” shrugging him off, “some stuff for my exhibition.. i dunno if i like it yet,” downplaying the glorious work of art in front of him. as if there were any need.

“what are you talking about? it’s so good,” still clinging onto his backpack strap.

you shake your head, taking the apron off of your body, tossing it onto the hook full of other dirtied aprons. “i can do better.. anyway, did you trek all the way down here for a reason or..?”

he lingers by the painting for a second longer before turning to face you, remembering his actual aim, “yes! are you joining us for dinner tonight? robin wants you to meet all of our friends,” he offers, though he’s aware it’s not much of a deal for you.

“uh.. who’s gonna be there?” you ask, quirking a brow. he’s aware that you’re not exactly a social butterfly.

“well, nancy, jonathan, vickie.. argyle, if jonathan can convince him to come out,” they were all nice enough, if he and robin liked you, they definitely would too.

“i dunno..” wrinkling your nose.

“come on,” he pleads, “it’ll be fun.. they’ll love you. nance’s been begging me to get you out.. please?”

you shake your head, as if weighing up your options, “okay.. fine, but dinner’s on you,” as you drop the pallet into the sink for someone else to deal with.

“great,” he beams, there’s something to be said about the fact he still hadn’t introduced katie to the rest of his friends yet.. but he doesn’t wanna think about that.

his hand comes to rest on what he thinks is a dry desk, waiting for you to finish up, only to find his hand now covered in goopy white paint, “oh shit,” he fusses, pulling your attention from the sink.

“oh fuck, i should’ve told you that was wet..” looking between his outstretched hand and his eyes, a giggle bubbling on your lips as he stomps over to the sink.

“oh is this funny to you, huh?” joining you at the basin.

you run the hot water for him, grabbing the bottle of soap ready to clean his hand, “well it’s a little funny,” lips twitching while he stands like a lemon.

as steve normally does, he acts before he thinks, pressing his paint-covered palm to your cheek, only registering what he had done when you shriek in response, splashing water everywhere.

“you asshole!” you gasp, brows furrowed as you conjure up something for revenge.

that’s when you grab the still paint-covered brush and smear it over his cheek and nose, staining his features a daring bright orange.

“oh it’s like that is it?” he grins, grabbing your wrist with his clean hand, threatening to mark you again. “you don’t wanna mess with me, i’ve got the upper hand,” sticking his tongue out slightly, unable to shake the way your eyes still glistened the same.

“if you want me to come to dinner, you’ll put your hand down.. call a truce,” bargaining with him.

he obliges, holding his hands up in surrender, “okay.. okay, you win,” unable to contain his laughter as he washes the paint from his palm.

you shoulder barge him as you come back to the sink, pulling your clean brushes from the water and leaving them to dry on the metal board.

“we’re gonna have to swing by my room,” you smile begrudgingly, shoving your stuff into your bag, watching as he dries his hand.

“okay,” his grin still lingering, “personally, i think you should just come to dinner like that.. it looks great,” enjoying the ribbing that came with being your friend.

you scoff, practically pushing him out of the studio, ensuring he couldn’t wreck havoc on anything else.

the pair of you glide down the hall, steve filling you in on the guests that would joining you for dinner when a voice calls his name from in front.

katie bounds up to him, smile fading the second she sees the new colour of his face, “why are you orange?” face screwed up as she rescinds her offer of a kiss. he’s slyly thankful that your adorned his face now.

“oh we.. i- i tripped, got paint everywhere,” he chuckles, feeling like a scolded child.

katie hums, “right.. that’s kinda weird,” her eyes flit over to you and the paint on your face, “you trip too?” a judgemental look flashing across her features.

“no,” shrinking into yourself, “steve.. tripped,” doubting your own words, like your measly paint fight needed to be kept secret. but maybe that’s just how he felt, is that wrong?

he can’t decide.

“hmph,” katie frowns, her attention turning back to steve, “go and clean up.. you look like a clown,” before speeding off down the hall, ponytail flouncing around as she goes.

he just rolls his eyes continuing out of the building as you scurry along behind, “she seems nice,” sarcasm dripping off your tongue.

“ignore her,” brushing the whole encounter off, “she’s just.. pissy because i’m busy tonight, don’t take it personally,” offering a short smile. he glances at his watch, grimacing at the time, “oh shit, we’re late,” grabbing your hand as he starts sprinting ahead.

“i can’t meet your friends like this!” you holler, bounding behind him.

“they won’t mind!” he screams into the wind, dodging other students with a skill only possessed by someone who chronically sleeps through their alarm.

they really don’t.

in fact, robin bursts into laughter as you walk into the diner, “i’m not even gonna ask,” tapping the plush cushion for you to slide in next to her, steve follows closely behind.

the two of you share a look, an inside joke that was just yours. he liked that, it made him feel strangely important. like he was worthy of sharing things with just you.

everyone is lovely, obviously. he had no doubt that they would be. argyle corners you about california, discovering that it is a rather large state and no, you won’t have bumped into each other.

steve doesn’t want the night to end, he’s selfish like that. so he does the sane thing to ensure you spend as much time together as possible, walking you and robin back through campus, still adorned with paint.

“thank you.. for making me go,” you smile coyly once you reach your door, robin had already disappeared off inside, leaving just the two of you.

“no worries.. i told you they’d love you,” shoving his hands into his pockets, mostly so he doesn’t do anything stupid.

you chuckle, reaching for the door handle, “i’ve really missed you, you know? it’s like it’s all hit me at once,” shrugging your shoulders as if that were just some nonchalant comment he would ever be able to forget.

“i missed you too,” he adds, truly meaning it.

sure, he’d found friendship again but nothing had ever felt quite like you. it was different, and even now after years and years of being in separate states, with no idea that the other was even still alive, it all felt normal.

like you could walk back into that park tomorrow, sit on the swings and just natter away about everything and nothing like you used to.

“goodnight, see you tomorrow?” you smile, sliding through the door, waiting just long enough for his reply.

“of course,” returning the smile.

he hums all the way home, a child-like joy overrunning his senses. he thinks about you when he dreams, of sharing crayons and candy. high-pitched giggles and an unfaltering feeling of love.

it had been weeks of hanging out now, sharing tales from your childhood, robin was still struggling to understand that you were also from hawkins. “you’re just.. it’s crazy, you’re nothing like the usual hawkins dwellers and the fact that you were friends with him? wow..” she had muttered with a swift jab to steve’s arm.

she had had the bright idea of a sleepover, they hadn’t really been able to since moving to chicago, out of respect for their roommates but now her roommate was you, what was stopping them?

“why don’t we push the beds together?” robin blurts out, like a lightbulb had just gone ding on the top of her head.

you nod excitably, going to heave your bed across the room. steve pushes the end of the bed frame, connecting it to robin’s as she stands there doing absolutely nothing to help.

“phew thanks robin, couldn’t have done that without all your help!” steve quips, throwing his best friend a snide smile.

“shut up dingus, my nails are still wet,” as if that made it okay.

you smile at the two of them, stood in your pyjamas that steve had definitely not been gawping at. he doesn’t mean to, he knows it’s not like that. he has a girlfriend for christ’s sake.

that’s what he’s been telling himself anyway.

“you’re in the middle,” robin declares, looking at you, rather than him, “put your cold feet on somebody else for once,” before climbing into her side of the bed.

you slide in next, cuddling up to robin as you do. steve’s next, fashioned in his excuse for pyjamas, namely a chicago university shirt and his boxers. it probably wouldn’t go down well if katie were to find out but he didn’t particularly care.

there’s a joke there, something about sharing a bed with a lesbian and his childhood best friend but he can’t be bothered to think about it.

not when you turn over to face him, all smiles and warm cheeks, he has to remind himself that robin is on the other side of you, mumbling something about not waking her up early.

“goodnight,” you grin, relaxing into the pillow you shared as the light flickers off.

“night,” he replies, pulling his eyes away from your shadowy features, deciding that staring at the fuzzy ceiling was better than being a freak.

you roll over slightly, head falling onto his shoulder making his breathing falter, sworn to this position until you up and moved. it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

he shouldn’t be thinking like this, you’re friends, old friends to be exact. and he has a girlfriend.

except, he awakens in the morning, stiff shoulder and a cricked neck, taking a peek at the other side of the bed to find robin had forced you into him with her sprawling limbs.

you rouse not long after he does, blinking at the light and hurriedly moving your head from his dead arm.

“oh my god,” you remark, “i’m sorry.. was i on you all night?” wriggling around the small space you held.

steve exhales, lifting his arm in the air in an attempt to get some blood flowing back into the extremity, “yup.. it’s okay though,” quickly rolling over to face you, “sleep well?”

“well, apart from robin’s foot in my back.. yeah, pretty well,” chuckling into the pillow as you shy away. he wishes you wouldn’t.

“then it was worth the dead arm,” returning your abnormally bright smile, you were far too chipper for this time in the morning but he didn’t mind. made a difference from the usual grump robin was in, for sure.

“you should sleep over more often,” you smile.

he heart soars, god he’d love to. “oh yeah? like we used to?”

the crinkle by your eye returns, remembering times gone by, “yeah, just like that,” speaking softly, as if it wouldn’t take an industrial alarm to wake robin.

“you wanna go get breakfast?” he asks, before this devolves any further.

“absolutely.”

there’s a knock at the door, tommy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even make a half assed effort to pretend to care so steve huffs and gets up to answer.

you’re stood on the other side, already smiling as you wait. it’s a welcome sight, without robin he’s been a little stir-crazy, not yet brave enough to venture to your room without her there.

maybe he’s afraid that something would happen, maybe he’s not. he’s not entirely convinced that he’d have the power to stop himself.

“i just came to give you a ticket.. for my exhibition, it’s on saturday so.. if you’re busy i totally get it,” you fret, offering out the ticket to him.

there’s an undetermined feeling in his stomach, looking down at the paper ticket in his pal, warmth rushing to his chest at the fact you’d even considered him.

steve steps out of the room, closing the door behind him, away from tommy and listening ears. tommy and katie were friends somewhat, mostly by association through his girlfriend carol. anyhow, he wasn’t keen on him telling some misconstrued story to carol and then reaping the punishment from that.

“wow..” still starstruck that you had asked him. “i’ll be there.. wouldn’t miss it,” sliding the ticket into his pocket, mostly so he would stop looking like a weirdo for staring at it.

“okay,” you nod, smile up to your ears, “it’s only small..” here you go again, downplaying your talent as if steve would ever care.

“stop it,” he warns, jokingly rolling his eyes, “hey, i’ll walk you back.. i needa get out of that fucking room,” gesturing for you to take the lead.

you chatter all the way across campus, talking about everything and nothing, he wants to ask if that painting of the swingset will be there but doesn’t. letting you blabber on about composition and the asshole gallery manager that wants you to set up at 6am.

its only when you reach your hall that you stop, turning to face him with a genuine smile that makes his heart thud.

“it’d really mean a lot if you came..”

he nods, stepping closer only just, “i will, i’ll be there,” assuring you as much as he could. he meant it, too. there’s really nothing he could think of that would make him not go.

he allows his gaze to slip to your lips, he lets himself do that even though he shouldn’t.

studying the curve, the slight gap between your bottom and top lip, the way they twitch with what he hopes is anticipation.

you’re both inching closer, neither of you acknowledging what’s about to happen. the air is thick, silent even. a knowing sense that you’re either about to ruin everything or become something more.

two doors down, a door swings open, a voice bellowing out, “i’ll catch up!” before a boy speeds out, glancing at the two of you briefly before disappearing.

you clear your throat, averting your gaze, studying the dirtied floor, “okay.. i’ll see you saturday,” coy smile as you unlock the door and potter off inside.

steve stands there, blinking at the wooden frame as if you’d somehow materialise from the other side.

he hightails it back to his room, in some sort of daze as he attempts to reconfigure himself. his relationship and his friendship with you. nothing made sense.

he’s not sure it ever will again.

fuck he wishes robin were here. of course she’s at some stupid family reunion when he needs her most. his next port of call would be you and well.. that didn’t seem particularly helpful.

he errs on calling robin, floating around his room with no purpose. at least tommy was no where to be seen, unsure if he could’ve handled his beady little eyes and snooping questions.

katie would be waiting on him, he always stayed over on thursdays, at least he used to. before you were back i. the picture. before you had completely consumed his mind with your stupid smile and stupid face. both a distant memory and an important part of his current life. it’s fucking dizzying.

it’s not really stupid, he thinks he’s stupid actually.

steve does what he does best and decides to ignore his brain, grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm. he’s grateful that katie’s house is on the opposite side of campus from your building. that way he couldn’t accidentally wind up there instead of where he’s supposed to be.

she welcomes him in, a pink, frilly house that steve had always detested a little bit. it smelt too strongly of vanilla and the other girls always side-eyed him, bitter and judgemental over something he couldn’t figure out.

it’s now that they’re sat on katie’s satin bedsheets that he realises that he really, really doesn’t want to be here.

nevertheless, he swallows it down. putting on false pretences as they fake-watch the shitty rom-com she’d turned on to fill the silence.

“so.. have you got your suit for saturday?” katie asks, playing with his limp hand.

“yeah,” resisting the urge to move his hand away, “sorry- saturday? i thought it was tomorrow?”

katie had asked- or more precisely begged him to escort her to this senior send off ceremony. some bullshit sorority ritual that made zero sense to him.

“uh.. no, always been saturday,” she’s still smiling, still trying, “steve, i told you weeks ago,” her frustrations seeping out of her pores, spilling over onto her features.

“you said friday,” so sure of himself, so sure that she was wrong. how would he forget that?

unless something, or perhaps someone was shrouding his mind.

“well, what plans are more important than your girlfriend’s senior send off?” she asks, all defensive.

he struggles to answer, there’s no way he can really spin it to make it sound less bad, strangled noises drift from his throat as the words fail to form.

“exactly,” katie pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “you’ll just have to rearrange.”

steve doesn’t stay over, makes up some shoddy excuse about needing to study to get out of it. she’s not happy, obviously, but when is she?

he’s grateful that the campus is quiet as he stalks back to his dorm, thoughts swirling through his brain. everything is so confusing, his cushy little college life had been majorly disrupted and now all of the plans he had made had come crashing down.

there had been conversations about finding a house after graduation, moving in together randomly starting their life and yet, that couldn’t be further than what he wanted.

at least now.

steve finally gives up, turning to the only person he thinks will rationalise his thoughts, robin buckley. who has pulled her grandmother’s phone into the private dining room just for this conversation.

“we nearly kissed,” he spits out, eyeing the group of drunk students passing in the hallway. wouldn’t it be great if it somehow got back to katie through some nosy busybody.

“what? when? why didn’t you call me sooner?” she demands, “why didn’t you kiss? oh my god steve harrington, you’re so useless.”

“uh.. what do you mean why didn’t we kiss? remember my girlfriend? who’d chop my balls off if i ever cheated on her?”

“who cares? nobody likes her anyway,” robin roars right into his ear.

“i’m not gonna even acknowledge that.”

“okay, well, did you want to kiss her?”

steve pauses, perplexing the situation. he doesn’t need to really, of course he wanted to.

“..yeah.”

“well there you go!” she shrieks.

“it felt.. weird, i dunno, i think she wanted to too,” he curls the cord around his finger, “and now katie wants me to go to this senior send-off thing but there’s the exhibition.. i don’t know what to do,” his shoulders slumping.

“wait wait wait, what do you mean it felt weird?” dismissing his dilemma. you know, the thing he had actually called her about.

“well it felt right.”

the line goes silent but he can still hear her faint breathing down the line. she’s thinking, probably attempting to sweeten up her words. but eventually she sighs, “i think you know what to do.”

“but i don’t! rob i really don’t! why do you think i’m calling you at fucking one am?”

she clicks her tongue and steve can picture what smug look she has on her face, it was a signature feature of hers, especially when she’d been able to prove him wrong. “you do. i think you called me because you wanted me to tell you what you want to hear.. but i don’t even need to do that.”

he wails into the receiver, all he’d wanted was a clear cut answer from his best friend. a little advice and maybe some confirmation bias, was that too much to ask for?

“you’re no help,” he scowls, patting his now empty pockets in search of more coins, “i haven’t got any more change.. i’m gonna have to go,” sighing as he’s left on his own with his head once more.

“you’ll do the right thing, steve. i know you and i trust you,” before the line cuts out, the dial tone screams out.

he slams the piece of useless plastic back onto the holder. that wasn’t helpful, rather just some weird, reverse psychology lesson. he feels cheated, his first option of just flipping a coin would’ve been more helpful.

his feet drag along the carpet back to his room, swallowing the guilt and all of the other confusing emotions he seemed to have accumulated.

it’s funny that even though robin hadn’t exactly said anything specific, he’d known what she was talking about. it’s even funnier that as he climbs into bed, all he can think about is you.

steve hangs back, stood at the back while the speech finishes. he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s supposed to be looking at or talking to, incredibly out of place.

no one pays him any mind, too interested in whatever this balding man has to say.

you don’t spot him either, keeping your eyes trained to the art director. he can tell you’re nervous, picking indiscreetly at your hangnail, chewing on your cheek. you’d never liked, or been particularly good at public speaking, steve was your voice for many years. not that he minded.

there’s lots of chatter, people walking around the small space with their hands behind their back, putting on this facade that they were art snobs and not just weird middle-aged people looking for something to do on a saturday afternoon.

they all sort of disperse, ogling the paintings and such. leaving him stood in the middle of the room like a lemon, wondering if he should just go over to you or wait until this had all finished.

but you meet his eye momentarily, head snapping in his direction when you realise who it is. your lips slowly curve into a smile, ditching the conversation to weave through everyone to him.

“you came,” you state, like there was ever a chance of him not coming.

“i told you i would,” he’s not one to break a promise. ever.

“no i know but, robin mentioned something about your girlfriend, she didn’t know if you were.. forget it,” throwing your hands about, ridding the air of your words.

he’s not exactly surprised that you’d have doubts, not after your almost-kiss the other night. he hadn’t seen you since, too busy with the exhibit to sit and dwell on it, he bets.

steve shakes his head, “nah, i had something more important to do,” full of unbridled exhilaration, it’s like his body knew he had made the right choice.

you flush, avoiding his eyes as you usually do when you’re nervous or embarrassed. “well.. thank you,” shrugging him off. he so wish you wouldn’t.

he decides to just lay it all bare, tired of skirting around the truth and minimising his obviously very real feelings. “this isn’t the right time but,” smoothing down his wrinkled shirt, “i just wanted you to know that i’ve wanted to do this for weeks and.. shit,” he sighs, cupping your cheek and moving in before you can protest.

your lips connect, sending flames through his veins, you’re not expecting it judging by the lack of movement on your part, stood frozen even as he pulls away.

“sorry,” the first thing he says, watching your face as you stand shocked.

he was so sure that his feelings would be reciprocated, had pretty much convinced himself that you were destined to grow grey together but maybe he’d got it all wrong.

his cheeks burn as you just blink, time slows and he wishes that the floorboards would just collapse under him so he could disappear forever.

in lieu of a reply, you smash your faces together again, this time steve’s not quite expecting it, your noses bang against each others. but he doesn’t move, his smile growing against your lips.

there are a collection of muttered oohs from the crowd. it was rather a lot for a saturday morning.

“sorry,” you echo, biting down into your bottom lip, “not the wrong time at all,” your eyes shining through your spindly lashes.

steve bursts into laughter, drawing an even bigger crowd of eyes as he does so. his eyes dart around the vaguely stunned audience, “hey look, find me after.. i’ll be here,” gently pushing you off to go and do whatever the hell it is that artists do at these things.

you nod, all dazed and smiley, immediately falling into conversation about a painting.

he’s only dozing when the door creaks open, too encapsulated by sleep to bother to open his eyes. you’re dead to the world, snoring softly curled into his chest.

a quiet gasp rings out from the door and then just as expected, robin bounds over to your bed, poking his arm that was both underneath your shoulders and hanging off of the bed.

he peeks a look at his slightly deranged best friend, the lamp was just bright enough to showcase her enthusiastic grin, “you did it!” whispering far too loudly, “i knew you’d make the right choice,” buzzing around the room.

she damn near jumps in the air, clicking her heels together like some freak.

steve just closes his eyes again, falling back into sleep with a grin on his face and you between his arms.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

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the-doomed-witch · 9 months

Text

BOOP!

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The cuteness aggression gets insufferable once you get some time with your wife after a long day of work.

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, bc wanda is just so cute also not proof read

Author’s Note: another one i wrote in like 30 minutes… welcome to skye-should-be-studying-but-they-keep-writing-short-fics episode two 🙏 (gif is mine)

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION // READ ON AO3 // REQUESTS CLOSED

— ✦ —

Both of you sit on the couch, snuggling together after a long hard day at work. You nuzzle up against her neck, finally having felt her tangible presence around you after weeks. Work has been so tiring for you as well as Wanda, that both of you had begun to live together vicariously through memories. Hell, all of her features look so interestingly novel to you.

But when you look at her closely right now, after so long, she never fails to pass as the most adorable person you know. Her eyes still focus on the sitcom playing on the television. Oh Wanda’s mesmerising green eyes…

Her nose scrunches up as she smiles. The curve of her smile, the laugh lines. She’s the most lovable being to you.

You cannot control the feeling, you want to just keep on looking at her. So you immediately straddle her waist and grab her face in your palms. “Baby, what are you doing?” She speaks between little laughs. Oh my God. Stop being so cute.

You kiss her lips, hands finding their way around her neck. Wanda giggles between more kisses, her laughter is churning your insides. You adjust your seat around her waist, but she gets it wrong. “Y/N, detka, I’m sorry I don’t…”

“Oh no, no, I didn’t mean that. I know you’re tired, so am I.”

“Then?”

You stare into her eyes, viridescence engulfing them. A smile is given to her, which she reciprocates. “Goodness, Wanda. You’re the most adorable person ever.” She laughs gratefully at your compliment.

“Am I now honey? You think I’m adorable, hm?”

“I can’t comprehend how to describe it. I’ve felt your warmth around me after so… so long. I think I fall in love with you every single time I look at you. You’re just so-”

You boop her nose with yours. “What’s going on baby? What’s all of the sudden-” She gets interrupted by another boop.

You boop her nose with a finger again, and it makes you chuckle. Wanda looks at you with a blank red face, the blood rushes into her cheeks. She’s never been treated like this before, so tender, so light.

“I. Want. To. Bite. Your. Red. Cheeks.” you say, punctuating each word with further booping. Her face burns - she feels noticed under your gaze, as if she’d been invisible all her life.

“Y/N, I’m so confused…”

“I don’t know either Wands. I just want to bite your cheeks, squish them, boop your nose, give you so many kisses. I don’t know!” You pull her face close to yours and place little pecks on her freckles, “Can I call you pookie?”

Wanda throws her head back, laughing. “Oh dear, I love how you’re being so affectionate around me. I missed you. I missed us.”

You reply to her, “I missed you more, pookie.”

Her forehead rests over yours, as she cups your face between her warm hands. “I love it when you call me that.”

“Okay. Pookie.” You kiss her again, and again, and over again. Your teeth grit against each other in a tight smile, your visual focus on her. Her auburn hair is tied up in a lazy bun, and she’s free from her regular makeup. Just natural, sitting beneath you.

You pull strands of hair away from her face, a gaze filled with nothing but adoration. When you’re done playing with her hair, you hold her hands and kiss each of them softly. Throughout your little efforts, Wanda stares at you, occasionally giggling.

“I cannot eat you. That’s sad for me. But…” you smooch the tip of her nose, “I can kiss you all over. Lots of kisses, all of them for you.”

She wraps her hands around your waist, “Oh dorogaya… What’s going on today?”

“I love you so much.” you speak before planting more loud hearty smacks on her face. She’s adorably captivating. Wanda tries to hold you in place, saying, “Stop, Y/N! It tickles!” But it only ever encourages you.

“Darling, please…” Her hands entwine with your hair, pulling your face a little away. Reluctantly, you pull yourself back to see her precious smile.

“You’re my pumpkin pie, sweetheart, my dearest darling, absolute ray of sunshine, honeybun, sugar plum, my most beloved, littlest pookie!”

“Oh my, my, thank you for showering me with so much love. I love you very much.”

“You look like a strawberry with your red cheeks. I love you berry much!”

“Stop- I can’t help smiling!”

“I’ve been gifted with the best wife ever. Like, ever. My heart is just exclamation marks when you’re around.”

You kiss each of her cheeks and hug her tightly, snuggling in her arms. She kisses your forehead, wrapping the two of you in a heavy blanket. Patting your head, she says, “Good night, Y/N.”

Lightly, you kiss her shoulder and rest your head on her again. “Night, pookie.”

“You’re not letting that name go, are you?”

“Mhm.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fluff #mcu wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #scarlet witch x you #elizabeth olsen x reader

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bugboioli23 · 4 months

Text

Swerve x Human!Reader

Disclaimer: I haven't written fic for a few years so my skills are gonna be a bit shit to be honest, any criticism is welcome and id love to hear what you guys think 💚

THIS IS 18+ - size difference, valveplug, oral sex, fingerfucking, doggy style, riding - 2911 words - AFAB reader but no pronouns are used

You and Swerve had been friends since you stepped foot on the Lost Light. Something about his chatterbox personality and sitcom-like humor had you beaming whenever you were around him. The best nights were spent perched on the edge of the bar counter, rambling for hours on end with Swerve. Tonight was one of those nights. It was after the doors had closed, the bar empty and silent aside from the laughter ricocheting from the both of you.

“Really?!” You yelped, eyes wide in surprise as you stared at the grinning minibot.

“I'm telling you! You wouldn't believe the amount of mechs who come by here asking for you!” Swerve replied with a chuckle, shaking his helm in shared disbelief. “Not only that but they actually think they could frag you! I'm probably one of the few bots on here who could frag you full sized.” Swerve paused, face freezing for a second as he quickly backtracked on his statement. “I mean- not that we would- NOT THAT I WOULDN'T WANT TO- I'm sure you’d make a lovely frag- NOT LIKE THAT- I JUST MEANT- im sorry- ” Swerve seemed to shrink in on himself as he continued to mumble to himself anxiously.

Your face burned red at the idea. The thought of a bot being stuffed between your folds, trembling at the foreign sensation of the wet flesh of your cunt. You wondered about the anatomy that laid hidden under the panels of your metallic friends. How similar are you compared to them? Just how compatible are your species? You already had gotten an enlightening talk from Brainstorm about Cybertronian anatomy after you explained human anatomy to him. (For his holoforms of course. No other reason.) You knew what you could take, but the fresh reality that this could happen left blood rushing south.

“Uhm… ____? You good? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.” Swerve looked at you apologetically. His light pout and the puppy eyes you could barely see behind his visor brought forth images that made warmth surge through your body once more. How would Swerve act if you asked him to fuck you? He seemed like the type of Cybertronian who wouldn’t mind a little experimenting with humans. He seemed like the type to whimper; the type to beg.

Heat flushed through your face as reality caught back up to you. You flashed him a bright smile and waved your hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m alright. Just thinking.” You glanced at Swerve, who looked unconvinced. “Hey, weren’t you and Blurr going to open a bar before you came here?” You asked out of nowhere, hoping to turn his attention onto something else. It seemed to work because he was already telling you about how Blurr was secretly his best friend. While the bartender was distracted, you let your thoughts turn back to the ideas at hand. You found Swerve to be adorable, the way he seemed to always work with a smile despite people talking poorly about him. His fascination with your species’ tv and music and how he would light up when you offered another film for movie nights. After tonight’s conversation, you decided it’s now or never to shoot your shot with him.

“Swerve?” You looked him up and down with a smile, interjecting his speech on Blurr’s latest record break. “Do you think fragging a human would be possible?” You spoke sweetly, letting your voice fall an octave to emphasize your intentions.

“Uhm, wouldn't Ratchet be better at answering that than I would?” Swerve thought he was hearing things. In his mind there was no possible way that you just asked what you had asked. His head must've made that up. It had to be some kind of self inflicted auditory hallucination. The way you smiled softly and rested a hand on his arm before leaning closer must also be a trick of the optics.

“Swerve, darling. I asked you for a reason.” You replied coyly, glancing up at him with an endearing grin. He felt his intake hitch and a sliver of charge run down his frame.

“Oh.” He choked out, face tinted with the rush of energon. His cooling fans kicked on with just the mere suggestion of what tonight could entail. “I- I suppose we could- figure it out…” He grinned shyly.

“That’s a good mech.” You purred, wide grin never faltering as you hopped down from the counter. You sauntered out of the bar with a new sense of confidence, only pausing to gesture to him to follow before the doors closed behind you. Swerve had to take a minute to collect his thoughts before practically sprinting after you.

Your habsuite was uniquely modified for your species. Instead of a hard metal berth, you had a cushy soft bed adorned with a mass of plushies, pillows and blankets. Soft lighting glowed from lower points in the room instead of one harsh light from above. It had your special charm to it, and Swerve wanted to spend every moment he could in there with you.

“So,” You started plopping yourself down on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you, “I’m going to skip all the pleasantries here, I want you to fuck me.”

Swerve let out a whine, feeling a surge of arousal flooding through his systems. His spike pressurized quickly, becoming heavy behind his panels with an embarrassingly loud thud. “Did you have to be so bold about it?” He hissed through clenched dentae as you gazed at him with desire.

“I think it’s more fun to watch your reactions.” You hummed contentedly before climbing into his lap, “Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?” You spoke softly, but your eyes never left his face. Swerve nodded hastily, servos hovering above your body anxiously. His intake opened to start a flood of questions but you cut him off with a kiss, exploring the foreign texture of his pliable metallic face. The strange rubbery feeling of his glossa felt wonderfly new against the soft muscle of your tongue. You let out a soft noise of pleasure against his mouth before you were interrupted by a snap of panels retracting and an enticing pressure laying heavy on your thigh.

“Oh- Slag, sorry I- you’re so- I wasn’t able to-,” Swerve began, but you pressed a finger to his lips as you looked down to study the new part of him. It was about 8 inches long, the red tip of it already leaking prefluids. It was mostly white, with a stripe of red along the underside decorated with biolights which pulsed needily. You trailed your hand lightly along the length, your fingers barely unable to touch around the girth of it. You looked back up at Swerve who was hiding behind his servos, face tinted pink with energon.

“Listen… I know I’m not as big as other bots but please… don’t stop whatever you were planning to do.” Swerve mumbled shyly, peeking at you between his digits.

“Oh, hun. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ve got more than enough for me to enjoy.” You smiled, sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs. “May I?” You asked, wanting to explore his anatomy further.

He let out a shaky exvent with a nod and you ran your fingers along the grooves and panels of the Cybertronian anatomy. It wasn’t until you had gotten eye level with his spike that you had noticed his valve. It was dripping with transfluid and the hooded node was glowing a beautiful blue. You looked up at him from your position, eyes full of lust.

“Change of plans. Lean back for me, I’ve gotta taste you.” You purred, firmly pushing against his midsection lightly as he rested his back against the wall of pillows. You gently pushed his thighs open and trailed two fingers against the slick folds of his valve, coating your fingers in the sticky substance. You studied your digits before popping them into your mouth. The pink fluid was metallic and sour, but addicting in a strange way. You wanted more. Spreading his folds with one hand, you delved into his valve. Swerve watched, entranced by the way you slid the flat of your tongue against him. The sensation made him let out soft groans, which encouraged you more. You took your other hand and gently circled his anterior node, ghosting the edges of it teasingly. Your tongue dove into his entrance and you felt the inner calipers twitch and throb with need.

“Oh frag… you’re good a-at this. I’m- hnghh… I don’t have enough stamina for t-this!” Swerve whined as you moved the hand separating his folds and you backed away from his plush valve.

“Don’t worry, you are doing so good. Just lie back and let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed and went back to lapping at the transfluid that fell from his folds. One hand finally gave his anterior node pressure while your other hand went up to stroke at his spike lazily. The result of your combined actions had Swerve clawing at the sheets, his intake falling open as he gasped and mewled out so many words you couldn’t tell what he was saying until it was too late.

Warm fluid gushed over your face as he overloaded while you were still tongue deep in his valve. His spike throbbed in your hand as you felt more transfluid land in your hair and shoulder.

“FRAG- Ah- hah…!” Swerve whined as his frame trembled through the aftershocks. “Oh slag im so sorry!” His visor came back online just in time to witness your mouth and jaw covered in dripping pink fluids.

You licked your lips and wiped your face with your shirt before taking it off and tossing it aside. “Hey.. hey no worries. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kissed his cheek, patting his thigh softly. “You did amazing. I’m so glad I could make you feel good.”

Swerve let out another high whine, seeing your chest bare before him. He slowly raised his servos to graze the flesh around your nipples. You sighed softly and raised your hands to press his servos more firmly to your skin. Swerve was still panting from his previous overload but he leaned in to press his lips gently against your sternum. His servos wandered up to press and massage at your nipples, circling them like you did to his node earlier. Your back arched, pushing your chest further into his servos as your mouth fell open softly. Swerve looked up at you, visor glowing with excitement and awe. “You’re stunning. I mean- frag, look at you, coated with my overload. Mine…” He breathed out, eyes trailing down your body to rest at your pants. He seemed to swallow before shakily continuing. “D-Do you still want me t-to..you know.. t-”

“I still want you to fuck me, Swerve.” You finished for him, moving your hands to swiftly undo the buttons of your pants, pulling off your undergarments at the same time and tossing them behind you. You grabbed onto his wrist and guided his fingers up towards your wet folds. Swerve got the hint and gently worked one finger into the tight heat of your cunt. He could feel the gentle pulse and pull of your walls around his digit, and he could barely imagine what it would feel like around his spike. After he felt you loosen up a bit, he slid in a second digit. You let out a gasp and a soft groan at the stretch, knowing that this was just the beginning if you wanted to be prepared to take his spike.

Swerve gently curled and flexed his digits, exploring your sex thoroughly as his processor worked overtime to memorize which movements felt the best for you. His audials turned to max sensitivity to be sure he could hear every whine and murmur of praise that fell from your lips. He could feel the second rush of energon repressurising his spike the more he pumped his digits into you. You glanced down between the both of you to smirk at his array before leaning in and pressing another kiss to his jaw.

“Awh, look at you,” You cooed, lifting your hips up to grind the tip of his spike against your clit. Swerve let out a strained whine as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your smirk only grew. “You’re such a pretty mech for me.”

“Hnf s-stop…” Swerve whispered bashfully, turning his helm away as energon rushed to his faceplates once more.

“I mean it.” You continued, slowly easing yourself down on his spike as you guided his gaze to meet yours. Swerve’s intake fell open and his spinal struts arched as your body enveloped his length. His servos flew to your hips when he finally bottomed out inside you. The heat of your cunt pressed upon every sensor and node on his spike with such certainty that he could barely concentrate on your words.

“Hhoh fraggghh, how are you s-so- so-ooHHFRAG-” Swerve had started to speak but you decided that now was the time to lift your hips and slam yourself back down. You started to ride the mech like an animal, your hips popping up halfway only to quickly push him back inside. Swerve let out a chorus of moans and yelps as his servos twitched against the soft plush of your thighs, squeezing every now and then to ground himself. It wasn’t until your legs started to burn that you were reminded of something. You quickly stopped your movements and grinned down at Swerve as he abruptly gasped and looked at you with a beautiful expression of desperation.

“Wh-why- why’dya stop?” Swerve asked, his speech slurred from the sudden absence of pleasure.

“Sorry, but I just remembered that you’re the one who’s supposed to be fucking me.” You pulled yourself off of his spike and he let out a pathetic mewl at the loss of your body. His pout was quickly wiped from his face when he witnessed you getting down on all fours and slyly shaking your hips at him. You turned to smirk over your shoulder at him as he gawked at you. Not another second had passed before Swerve was on top of you, his spike easily finding its way back into your slick folds. He started pounding into you, the weight of his body pressing down nicely on your back as he mounted you.

“Mnh, there you go, good boy Swerve.” You moaned out as his spike pistoned in and out of you, shoving your body into the mattress. Swerve was brought to a mindless ramble as your pussy sucked him in deeper and tightened around him.

“Ahfraggingprimusyouretight-“ Swerve whimpered as you clenched around him harder. Your body trembled as you felt his spike throb inside you. Swerve hovered over you, intertwining his servos over your fingers as he thrust into you rapidly. “F-Frag, ____ I’m not gonna l-last much longer-“

“Good, keep going. I want you to fill me with your transfluid. Overload in me like the good mech you are.” You grinned against the mattress, turning to look at him smugly, reaching down between your legs to rub at your clit. Swerve leaned down to mewl and whine against the back of your neck as he chased his own pleasure, pushing your hips further up with every pump of his hips.

“Fuck, Swerve- I’m-!“ You felt your eyes roll back at the drag of his thickness against your walls and you let out a filthy moan as you hit your climax. You felt the slick of your cum coat his panels as your sex tightened around him. The whimper that left his vocalizer was angelic as he let his spike empty itself within you. Thick ropes of transfluid coated your insides, the warm sensation of sheer fullness bringing you back down from your high. Your body continued to pulse around his spike, milking him of the last of his overload as he gave a few final lazy thrusts.

The two of you lay there panting for a while before he slowly pulled out of you, watching in awe as his cum started to slide down your thighs. You slowly turned and sat up, feeling your combined fluids seeping out of you and onto the sheets.

“Ah… that was… let me get you a towel.” Swerve gasped, stepping to the closet to grab a towel to wipe you down with, wetting it with warm water before gently cleaning you. He lifted and placed you on the other side of the bed, putting the used towel over the wet spot after cleaning and closing his panels.

You stared at the red and white mech with unveiled adoration as he finally sat next to you again. You leaned in and peppered his face with kisses as he gently rubbed your thigh.

“Swerve, you do know how to keep your mouth shut about some things, right?” You murmured sleepily, hoping the bartender could keep his mouth shut for at least a week or two before word got out that the human is a mechfucker.

“Uhuh, yeah. Definitely.” Swerve nodded with determination. You sighed with a small smile, already accepting that your next appearance in the bar would not be the same after this.

#transformers #mtmte #valveplug #self insert #swerve #transformers x reader #swerve transformers #buggyboi draws #buggyboi writes #swerve x reader #hes so babygirl #i wanna treat him well #transformers x human

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gayhoediaz · 2 months

Text

jell-o

(inspired by reply i left on one of @texasbama's posts)

T | 1k | also on ao3

“I feel like jello.”

The words follow a few long moments of silence as they struggle to catch their breath, panting as they stare up at the ceiling of Eddie’s dimly lit bedroom.

It’s a fairly normal thing to say after an orgasm like that - Buck could huff in amusement, say ‘Me too,’ except Eddie isn’t praising his skills in bed. His voice is not drenched in happiness and the wonder of afterglow - it sounds… thick. Buck can read Eddie like the back of his own hand, even without looking at him. Eddie is not sad - not at all. Although, he's certainly… emotional.

Buck swallows, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

After he pulled out, they ended up falling onto their backs like two people on a sitcom after having off-screen sex, needing the space to cool their body temperatures down - but now he moves his hand, blindly reaching until it finds Eddie’s. Eddie immediately responds to the touch, lacing their fingers together.

Buck squeezes. Eddie squeezes back.

Buck wants to say something, but he doesn’t. It doesn’t feel as if it’s what Eddie needs right now. It feels as if he’s gathering up the courage to elaborate, himself. So Buck gives him the time he needs, waiting patiently.

Another few beats pass. Buck remains quiet - moves the pad of his thumb back and forth over the back of Eddie’s - soothing him.

“I, uh…” Eddie finally continues, trailing off to swallow, the click of his throat audible in the silence of the room. “I used to have to use that every time Marisol and I - I uh…” He stutters a little bit - which isn’t usually his thing, it tends to be Buck’s. “I - we-“ he stutters some more, his voice growing thicker.

Buck sighs, gently slipping his hand out of Eddie’s only to roll himself up onto his side, supporting himself on his elbow, eyes falling upon Eddie’s flushed face.

Sinking the hand into his hair, soothingly combing his fingers through the sweat-damp strands, he slips his other hand into Eddie’s instead, giving another reassuring squeeze.

Eddie’s eyes are closed, but the warm light of the bedside table lamp highlights the slight wetness collected around the corner of his eye. Buck leans down - just barely brushing his lips over the area. Eddie swallows again, squeezing his hand.

“With Shannon, things were… things were good, with Ana, I used to just… close my eyes. Wait for it to be over, you know, but with Marisol, I… I used to, uh… I had to use that.”

“You used to have panic attacks?” Buck can’t help but breathe, his chest aching. “With her?”

“No.” The word leaves Eddie’s mouth with a sad huff of amusement, as he finally opens his eyes, immediately finding Buck’s. “Almost,” he says, then. “Every time, I just… I used to repeat it, it was always this mantra in my head,” he says, bringing his free hand up to gesture towards his own temple. “Everything was okay. I wasn’t in danger. My legs were jello, my arms, my chest, my head, I was a giant…”

“…Eddie shaped jello mold,” Buck finishes softly. Eddie nods.

Buck swallows down the anger he feels at Marisol.

Rationally, he recognizes that she didn’t do anything wrong - likely didn’t have any idea whatsoever, because if there is one thing Eddie is good at, it’s compartmentalizing and pretending that everything is okay - especially when it comes to people that ultimately don't know him all that well.

Irrationally, however, the thought of her touching him when he didn’t enjoy it makes Buck want to vomit. So much so that he apparently makes a face he’s not aware of, because the corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches up of amusement, a huff leaving his nose as he reaches a hand across his own body, and up to fit his palm against the side of Buck’s face, thumb gently caressing his cheekbone.

Buck’s heart immediately calms down. He sighs, giving his other hand one last squeeze before he lets go, moving it to wrap around his wrist instead, nodding once to nuzzle his cheek deeper into his cupped palm.

“It was on me,” Eddie assures him. “I shouldn’t have forced myself to-“ he cuts himself off when Buck makes a slight huff in his throat. It may not have been her fault, but it wasn’t yours either, is what he wants to say - but instead, he nods, allowing Eddie to go on. “…anyway, I just - it… kept the panic at bay, but it didn’t really… work, you know? I didn’t feel…” he trails off again, shrugging best as he can while laying down. “Didn’t feel right, I never felt…”

“…like jello,” Buck hums.

“It helped - kept me from... panicking completely, but I never actually felt... like jello - not in those moments.”

“And jello is calm - relaxed,” Buck hums.

“Safe, yeah.”

“If you felt safe, you uh… you wouldn’t have to remind yourself you feel safe,” he says, briefly turning his head to press his lips to Eddie’s palm. Eddie hums, nodding. “But you’re jello now?” Buck asks, allowing a hint of lightheartedness to slip into his tone as he fits his cheek back into the palm of Eddie’s hand.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says, the slight twitch of his mouth melting into a full smile. “You didn’t see my legs shaking?”

At that, Buck barks out a laugh - loud enough that he has to tilt his head back, eyes briefly falling closed; Eddie’s own chuckles harmonize with his own - and when their eyes meet once again, Eddie’s smile has grown into a full grin, the previous red-flushed tone of his eyes nowhere to be seen.

“I did,” Buck assures him, leaning down to bring his lips closer to Eddie’s. “I did see that.”

“Think you can make it happen again?” Eddie teases, his hand slipping up past Buck’s cheek, fingers tangling themselves in his hair as Buck lets go of his wrist, reaching down and across Eddie’s body to find a grip on the outside of his thigh, pulling it over to lay over his own. A few warm, happy chuckles sound somewhere deep in Eddie’s throat, and Buck nods once, only to brush the tips of their noses together.

“Mhm,” he assures him. “And again.”

#niesfics #buck x eddie #fanfiction #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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strangersmunsons · 4 months

Text

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 8 Prompt: Rom-Coms 🎟️ ~ 2,400 words Watching a romantic comedy on TV brings back some memories for Eddie. (angst, w/ a hopeful ending)

Eddie taps the lit end of his cigarette into an ashtray, staring at the television screen with tired eyes. The bluish light casts an eerie glow about the room; it feels cold, sterile.

This has been his ritual for far too long now: go to work, come home, and watch some mind-numbing program alone until he falls asleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.

He yawns, and rubs his stubbly face with one hand. He should get in bed before he passes out on the couch — save his back the trouble — but instead he picks up the remote again, flicking through channels, waiting in vain for something stimulating.

Coca-Cola ad. Late night talk show interview. Some black and white picture from MGM. Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal. Sitcom rerun.

He pauses, thumb hovering over the button.

Eddie switches back to When Harry Met Sally. He rented it from Family Video once upon a time, but he hasn’t watched it in years. It feels like an eternity has passed since then and yet, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

That’s what every memory with you feels like to him; it’s both an old scar and a fresh wound. He doesn’t know what feels worse — the hot, gut-wrenching ache of longing that pains him now, or the knowledge that those memories, no matter how agonizing they may be, might start to fade one day.

But it seems an impossibility; he can recall every detail. He wets his lips, remembering how you had pleaded with him in line to rent this particular film, even though he’d been hoping to see the new Indiana Jones movie.

“Rob Reiner doesn’t make bad movies, Eddie. He did The Princess Bride, remember? Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

He relented, as he always did. Who was he to deny you anything?

But oh, how things change.

Pipe dreams turned to reality. Demo tapes turned to albums. Dive bar gigs turned to international tours. You, bravely avowing that he had to grab hold of every opportunity he could — you told him that no matter where in the world he went, you would always be here, loving him. All the while, secretly, the small pit of fear planted in your stomach was sprouting and unfurling as the distance between you two grew further, and the silences louder.

He should have tried harder. Came home more. Picked up the Goddamn phone. He’d always had to call you; it was too difficult to get a hold of him yourself, to keep track of where he might be, when he was traveling constantly.

And then that awful night, when he’d lost everything. Everything that mattered, anyway.

It was the last time he ever saw or spoke to you. Hours of arguing, pleading, crying; it was the death rattle of the most important relationship of his life. You finally told him what you were afraid of, what you had been afraid of, and that it had come true.

“I’m just a girl from back home, Eddie.”

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You were never just a girl to Eddie. Not then, not now. Not ever. But what difference had it made? When the time had come for him to make a choice, he had still walked out the door.

The world was being presented to Eddie Munson on a silver platter. He was young, up-and-coming, successful. A talented musician — gifted, even. He had the right look and the attitude.

Being his partner wasn’t easy. Your support was unwavering, but your lives were going in different directions, it seemed. You both loved each other enough to want the other person to have what they wanted, which were…no longer the same things.

But it was still horrible.

He spent the next few weeks in a near-fugue state, numb and inconsolable. His bandmates whispered to each other in the studio, casting furtive glances over at their supposedly-invincible leader, while the rest of their team offered him pseudo-smiles tinged with impatience, and suggested that he focus on channeling the pain towards his music.

After that, when he had the time, he’d leave LA and come back to the city he’d initially dragged you out to after graduation. He had no idea if you still lived there, but it didn’t matter. It was the last place he knew you to be and so he wandered those familiar streets, looking for you in every person he passed, as though it were likely that he might bump into you at a bus stop, outside the grocery, sitting on a park bench.

It was a luxury he could afford until Corroded Coffin started to fall apart. Disputes between band members, both personal and professional. Declining album sales. Bad management. Once sold-out venues were a struggle to fill. The once-steady flow of cash turned into a trickle, and then the boys were unceremoniously dropped from label, the execs deciding that keeping them around wasn’t worth the expense.

He supposes he could have stayed in the industry if he really wanted to. Formed a new band or begged to join another that was in need of a guitarist, but Corroded Coffin was his baby. The idea of starting all over again or leeching off of another group’s success left a bad taste in his mouth. And the producing gigs and session work somehow felt even worse; he dreaded having to watch others succeed at what he had ended up failing.

Fame had chewed him up, decided it didn’t like the flavor, and promptly spit him back out. His music career felt like a fever dream now. His life before that, with you, was the realest thing he’d ever had.

As he watches Harry and Sally dine together at Katz’s Deli, his mind wanders to the slip of paper stowed carefully away like a sacred jewel, all alone in a drawer of his bedside table.

No, he won’t.

Harry and Sally fall apart.

He won’t dare.

Harry runs through Manhattan to find his girl.

Not after everything he’s done, after all this time.

Harry tells her all the reasons that he loves her…

Eddie abruptly switches the TV off, unable to hear anymore. He sits in the darkness for a moment, aching with bone-weary sadness. What had Dustin told him, as he passed the paper to him across the table over lunch one day?

“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

But Dustin was wrong about that. It could hurt him very, very much.

Eddie stands, and pads through the apartment to his bedroom. He sits on the side of the bed, and pulls open the drawer that holds his very last tie to you — a scrap of old receipt bearing your name and phone number. He picks it up with trembling fingers, then lowers it again, terrified that his clammy hands with smudge the ink. The phone seems to taunt him from where it sits atop the nightstand. As though he’s having an out of body experience, Eddie’s arm reaches out beyond his control and picks it up, the dial tone emitting a low buzz in his ear. He stares down at the number in the drawer, as though he didn’t memorize it the second he got it. He doesn’t even know how Dustin found you; but the geeky little shit has his ways.

He punches in the number, heart racing faster with each digit he puts in.

It rings…and rings…and rings…

“Hello?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in a low gasp. Your sweet voice is the same, only slightly marred by the bewilderment you must feel at receiving a call this late in the evening. Embarrassingly, his eyes sting with tears; he can’t speak.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Eddie slams the phone back into the receiver, white as a sheet. He gets up, paces a lap around the room, chugs a glass of water, and finally takes his seat again, trying not to hyperventilate.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he picks up the phone again, and re-dials.

His heart is in his throat now, swollen and beating so violently it threatens to choke him.

Your voice again, slightly more annoyed, though you still sound like an angel. “Hello?”

“H-Hi,” Eddie says hoarsely, and tries to swallow his fear.

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “...who is this?”

“It’s me. It’s…it’s Eddie. Munson,” he tacks his surname on at the end, as though he needs to specify.

Muffled noise through the speaker. The seconds tick by, and Eddie waits with dread for you to hang up.

Finally, you whisper, “Eddie?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“H-How did you get this number?”

He has the phone in a vice grip. “Dustin gave it to me.”

“Why…why are you calling?” He wishes he could see your expression. You sound terrified, like he’s going to bite you through the phone.

How can he answer that? What is there to say, after so much time, after so much pain? I miss you. I love you. None of it was worth it, even when I was on top. Losing you was like being cut in half.

“I wanted to see how you were. How you are, I mean.”

“I’m okay.” The response is quick, automatic. But you don’t elaborate any further than that, and awkward silence prevails again.

Eddie deserves that, he supposes. Sweat trickles down his back, under his arms, breaks out on his forehead. He pushes his damp bangs back out of his eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart,” the term of endearment slipping out as though a day hasn’t gone by where you haven’t been his sweetheart.

“Don’t call me that,” you tell him tersely, sounding pained.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, ashamed. He had no right to do this to you. Drudge up old memories that you probably wanted to forget, or had so already.

“What is this about?” you ask him again, voice shaking.

“I told you,” he mumbles, “I want to know how you are. And I guess…I want to apologize.”

“You want to apologize,” you repeat skeptically, with an incredulous huff. “Now? Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes glazed and wet. A dry sob rattles his chest. “I don’t what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have called, I shouldn’t be…I’m sure you hate me and I don’t blame you, because I do too.” He wets his lips and presses on. “But if I can take this time to say one thing to you it’s that I’m sorry. For everything. I am so fucking sorry. For leaving, for hurting you, for every stupid little thing I did. That’s why I really called. To tell you that.”

“Oh God,” you say, almost to yourself, voice suddenly small. “I — I’m not ready for this.”

“You don’t have to say anything back,” he whispers, voice breaking, closing his eyes, letting the tears slip over his lashes.

“Are you crying?”

He wipes furiously at his nose. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Eddie can’t lie to you, certainly not now. “Yes. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Your voice…”

“That — that came out sharper than I meant it to —”

“No, I mean it’s beautiful. I missed it.”

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

You start to speak and then falter, struggling to articulate what it is that you’re feeling. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what to say.”

Eddie laughs brokenly. “Funny, because there’s a million things I want to say to you. I just don’t know if I should or not.”

You swallow with an audible click. “I don’t know if you should, either.”

Another silence. Eddie thinks he could pick out the sound of your breathing from a mile away, he’s still so in tune with it. After hundreds of nights spent laying next to you in bed, no other sound could send him to dreaming so quickly or peacefully.

“But why call now? After all this time?”

“I miss you.” The words escape before he has a chance to stop them; he bites his tongue against the rest of them. He considers his next words carefully before continuing.

“I never reached out before, because I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. I didn’t deserve to ask you for another chance, and I don’t think I do now, either, but…I was thinking of you tonight. Even more so than usual.”

Your voice shakes. “Does…does that happen often?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “All the time.” The floodgates open; all his woe and regret from the past spills forward. “I am always, always thinking of you. Even when you thought I wasn’t. I know I was a shitty partner, but that didn’t mean — that I didn’t love you more than anything.”

“Eddie —”

But he can’t stop now. “I’ve missed you like hell since that very last night. I loved you so much, a-and I threw it away! How could I bring myself to speak to you after that? Especially after I lost it all? I would — God — I would hate for you to think that I was only coming back to you because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t wanna hurt you again, baby, and I know it would’ve.”

There’s a quiet sniffle on the other line. “It broke me when you left. And now this hurts, too.”

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I wish I could make it better. I would do anything to make you not hurt anymore. I won’t ask you for a second chance, but just know,” Eddie takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and seals his fate. “I’ve loved you for more than half my life,” he whispers. “I’ll love you until I die.”

And with that, the line goes dead.

Eddie stares at nothing, doesn’t move. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for; eventually, his body moving on autopilot, he hangs up the phone and crawls under the covers. He’s done sobbing, but tears drip down his temples as he lays back in bed, dampening his hair.

Time doesn’t exist anymore, but he hopes he’ll fall asleep soon anyway.

Breathing, quiet and even. Eyelids slightly heavier. He thinks maybe it’s finally within reach.

He’s almost there.

The phone rings.

Eddie blindly feels with one arm, and picks it up from the receiver for the third time tonight.

“Hello?” he asks hoarsely, not daring to believe it.

An angel answers.

“E-Eddie? It’s me again…”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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finalgilmoregirl · 6 months

Note

can you please do a writing piece on a night in with Mike? I just read your headcannon blurb and loved it so much! :) thanks!

☆ a night in with mike would include :

a/n : i’m glad you enjoyed my post, thanks for the request! no gender specified, no use of y/n, established relationship, no film spoilers

————————————

a night in starts with mike coming home from work. he’s exhausted from a shift that ran longer than he’d liked and with your plans to spend time together in mind, he immediately goes to shower after greeting you and abby.

the shower does a good job at washing off both the stale smell of work and his stress of having to do it all over again tomorrow.

his coming home a little later than expected seemed to have worked in his favor, because as he steps out of the bathroom, he notices the door to abby’s room is slightly ajar. once he steps through it he sees that abby is fast asleep, with you running a hand through her curly hair.

he walks over, replacing your hand on abby’s head and leaning down to place a kiss on it. he smiles at the peaceful sight, it’s moments of calm like this that he feels a small sense of pride, like he’s doing something right if abby is safe enough to have a warm bed to sleep in every night.

he looks to you and nods his head towards the door, signaling for you both to leave the room and as you walk through the hallway, mike places a hand on the small of your back, following you around.

“she go down easily?” mike asked, leading you towards the couch once you entered the living room.

you let out a light laugh, “yeah actually, she was practically falling asleep on her drawings by the time she was supposed to be getting ready for bed”

mike chuckles at the image of abby barley keeping her eyes open even while doing her favorite thing in the world. he leans back on the couch, pulling you into him as you begin to click through the different tv channels. the light from it being the only thing illuminating the two of you.

“so what are we thinking for tonight?” you ask beginning to list off what what playing at this hour, “sitcoms? black and white movies? there’s westerns…”

“sitcoms” mike answers, what he always answers with. you jokingly roll your eyes but find the right channel anyway. although he knows they’re corny, mike loves the simplicity of them, and you love to hear mike laugh.

you both settle in, a hand resting in his stomach with your body turned towards his, your legs thrown across mikes as he rubs your shoulder with the hand he has reached behind you. just twenty minutes pass before you hear and feel a distinct rumbling from mike. you sit up and bit and look at your boyfriend.

“was that your stomach?” you ask.

“yeah i didn’t get a chance to eat yet.” he responds a bit guiltily, knowing you hate when he doesn’t eat.

you immediately stand up and mike sighs, calling your name to sit back down but you retaliate with “there’s some leftover chicken in the fridge, do you want me to heat it up for you?”

“no no no” mike says, quickly standing up and pushing your shoulders to sit back down, “i got it”

he makes quick work of reheating his dinner and getting a glass of water to take back to the living room, where you’ve made him room so he can place his food on the coffee table in front of the couch where you two sat.

mike sits himself down as you sit up and start to lightly scratch his back while he places his elbows on his knees to have closer access to his plate.

every time he laughs at a stupid joke or dramatic one-liner you glance over at him. it seems like with every chuckle more and more weight is lifting off of mike's shoulders, and he's enjoying his life as he should at his age instead of worrying about bills or whether his car is going to start tomorrow morning.

once mike finishes (which was pretty fast. he was obviously a lot more hungry than he lead on to be), he leans back and pulls you into your original position again, this time with a warm full stomach and no more interruptions. he mindlessly traces shapes on your calf as you run a hand through his still damp hair, making it even more messy than it already was.

at some point during one of many commercial breaks, you suggest drinks, which mike is quick to accept. with the day he's had he could use a bit of alcohol to better send him to sleep later.

as you grab a few beers from the far back of the fridge he hears you make a comment on how you guys' hadn't drank in a while. mike lets out a dreamy "yeah?" as he tries to think back on the memory. he either must be real tired or it had to have been a while ago if he couldn't remember. which is a good thing honestly, you both tried your best to not make drinking a habit no matter how hard things got, especially with how much amy needed you both there for her.

"yeah." you said, bringing the now open bottles back to the couch. "it was last month at abby's school's fundraiser. they had spiked cider for the grown ups..." you trailed off, effectively jogging his memory.

"that doesn't count!" mike laughed, taking a sip from his drink.

"what do you mean it doesn't count?"

"well for one, it was at an elementary school, it was basically just apple juice."

"if i remember correctly, you were the one that started swaying after four glasses." you retaliated, causing mike to look at you in disbelief.

"only cause that's how many it took to make me feel anything!"

you cackled at his defensiveness, "don't give me an attitude just cause you're a lightweight. remember when i had to drive us home after my cousins wed- ah!"

mike tried to stifle your shrieks with his hand and he pushed you onto your back, almost dropping your beer in the process.

"you said you would never mention that again." he said through giggles but still trying to look serious while he pointed at you.

you pushed yourself onto your elbows, causing your faces to be merely inches apart. mike watched your mouth carefully as you brought the beer to your lips and took a sip. you held back a smile as you reached over to place it into the coffee table next to you, mike quickly pushing his lips to yours right after you did. you breathed a laugh through your nose, laying back again as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing him back.

mike continued, switching between pecks and long kisses before moving towards your neck, nipping at the skin there. your eyes began to flutter shut at the feeling.

"do you want to go to bed?" mike asked breathlessly, moving his kisses back to your lips.

as much as you hated to, you pulled away, causing your lover to pout.

"god i want to," you paused, looking at your forgotten drinks. "but we just opened those." you playfully whined.

mike rolled his eyes and sat back onto his knees, keeping his hands on your sides. "you're kidding."

"i'm just saying, we just started and there's four more in the fridge. it would be a waste!" you tried to defend yourself, but mike ignored your protests, leaning down to continue his assault on your neck (you swear he could do this forever).

"oh i get it," he mumbled into your ear. "you're just trying to get me drunk."

you smiled mischievously. "well we both know how easy that would be."

mike pulled away and looked at you incredulously, "oh you're done."

you took advantage of the space between you two and rolled off of the couch, running to mikes room as quietly as you could to avoid waking the nine year old in the next room while also escaping the arms of her brother. you could only avoid your fate for so long as mike came in a minute later after he put the dishes in the kitchen and turned off the tv as fast as humanly possible.

it only took him a second to find you sat on the edge of his bed and another to reach you, immediately attacking you with his lips, your shushes falling on deaf ears as he continued to tease you.

it's nights like these that end with the two of you in each others arms, your hearts bursting with love and affection, that make any trouble you might have faced in the day worth it.

feel free to send any more requests ☆

#mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #kelly : mike thoughts 💭

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wandanatsthings · 3 months

Note

Can I make a request of being a secret cuddle bear and would instantly run to Wanda everytime she comes after a tiring mission? Fluff please! 🩷

𝐒𝐍𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐆

Hey, anon I hope this is what you wanted and that you and everyone else enjoy it as well. and remember clinginess is adorable and I love all my snuggle bugs!! Feedback is more than welcomed. New writer

(P.s Im dyslexic i'm trying my best)

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: I really don't think there are any maybe missing someone and clingy reader? It’s just really fluffy!!

Summary: Wanda gets home from a tiring mission to a very snuggly reader who missed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda’s Pov

I had just gotten home from a tiring mission that involved a lot of heavy lifting. Everything went fine but I had to pick up a lot of heavy things with my fingers and I know It may seem like nothing but not only does that take a lot out of me physically but mentally as well. All I wanted was to cuddle up with you. I had some making up to do after how early I left you this morning for said mission.

When I walked through the door of our apartment. I saw you lying on the sofa in the living room wearing my favorite burgundy hoodie with white and gray stripes on the sleeves. You also happened to have on my favorite gray sweatpants to match. You loved wearing my clothes, you said it made you feel closer to me which I thought was so utterly precious.

As I approached you I saw our pet cat (Someone should name the cat) jump off your lap to come and greet me. “Hi sweet girl, did you watch over your mama hmm,” I said bending down to pet the fluffy cat that by the looks of it had been given just one too many treats. I heard TV playing so I looked up to see that you were watching my favorite sitcom “The dick van dyke show.” Before we started dating you had no interest in sitcoms and said that they were too “cheesy” but with a lot of convincing, I got you to watch one episode with me and from then on you've been hooked. I might even go as far as to say you liked them more than me. When I walked closer towards you I saw you had dried tears running down your face.

My heart broke at the sight. You had always taken it hard when I had to leave you alone for anything. Whether that be a mission or just to go to the bathroom you hated when I left you by yourself; If you could be with me then you were and to be honest I had no problem with that. Deciding that I was no longer going to make you go through the torture of my skin not being on yours. I reach down and place a hand on your cheek with a soft kiss on your forehead. “Detka…detka love wake up im home.”

That was enough to wake you up. You were never a deep sleeper unless I was sleeping with you, you could sleep almost anything then. It was something about me being close to you that made you feel safe you once said that time I asked. You opened your eyes, squinting a little to adjust to the light.

As soon as you noticed that it was me, you immediately jumped up from your place on the sofa and wrapped your arms around my neck and legs around my waist. “You're home, I missed you!” You exclaimed a smile taking over your face, erasing any evidence of the tears that once took that smile's place. “Yes I am home and I missed you, more sweet girl,” I said while placing my arms under your thighs making sure you wouldn’t fall as I made my way over to sit in the chair that was in the corner by the TV. “How was the mission? Are you hurt or anything?” You asked while checking me over. “No no I'm fine don’t worry love, the mission went well. I'm tired but okay I promise.” I say holding out my pinky finger knowing that pinky promising would be the only way to ease your anxiety.

“What about you hm? How are you, what'd you do while I was gone?” I asked you to bring your head to my chest. “I didn’t do much. Just watched TV, took a nap, and waited for you.” You said looking up at me with your y/e/c eyes through your lashes. “Mm that sounds peaceful, how about we continue that minus the waiting for me of course after lunch? Have you eaten yet?” “No, I haven’t, I was trying to wait for you.” You reply. “Okay let's go have some lunch and then we’ll continue your amazing peaceful day. How does that sound?” I asked, looking down at you in my lap. You nodded up at me. “Sounds good.”

With that, I stand up off the chair with you still in my arms kola style not even thinking about having you let go knowing that would just upset you. It was a task making us lunch with you in my arms but not impossible. We make our way to the dining room table with you holding one plate and me holding the other.

I set you down in your usual seat that is straight across from mine. I picked up my fork ready to dig into the Caesar salads I prepared for lunch when I noticed you were pouting and not even attempting to start eating. “What’s wrong with love?” I asked you with patience in my voice. You look up with the face you do anytime you want something. “Can I sit in your lap and eat please?” I look at you with nothing but love on my face. “Of course, you can love to get over here,” I say while pushing my chair back to make room for you. You clamber in my lap already with your frown turned right side up making it into a smile digging into your lunch. When we finish lunch I get you off my lap so I can put our dishes in the sink to be washed later. I then grab your hand so that we can head upstairs to finish the rest of our day with cuddles.

When we get to our room I head off into the closet so that I can change into something more comfortable. While taking off my shirt, I feel you come up behind me and wrap your arms around my waist. “What are you doing lovely?” I ask, sounding muffled because of the shirt covering my face. “Um, I have an idea.” I hear you sound nervous. “Oh yeah and what’s that?” I ask while taking my shirt off completely. “Do you think we could cuddle naked? I just really wanna feel your skin on mine.” I look down at you and say. “I would love to cuddle naked with you.” We both walk over to the bed while taking off our clothes on the way. When we reach the bed we get under the covers. I bring you into my chest and within minutes you're asleep. I gently kiss your forehead “You will forever be my snuggle bug.” I say then drift off to sleep myself without a thought or worry.

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abimess · 2 years

Text

The haunted house

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Moving to a house in the suburbs with your wife and children. What could possibly go wrong? [Requested]

Word count: 1.253 || Pronouns: she/her

Warnings: none

A/N: Another family story because milf Wanda our Scarlet Witch deserves to have one. Enjoy!

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

Halloween Special | Masterlist | Be notified of my stories

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

It took you and Wanda some time to save the money to buy your dream house. But you managed, year after year, until the year your boys turned five and you got a promotion at your job - because saving the world was not making your bank account any larger.

The house you found was perfect. Two stories with a long staircase and windows that covered the outside walls, the natural lighting making the construction even more beautiful. The backyard was huge and Wanda was more than excited to extend her garden beyond the small pots hanging in the laundry area of your old apartment.

Billy and Tommy were equally excited, planning all the activities they were going to do in each room and fighting to see who would get the best bedroom - you and Wanda had to intervene in that one. And as for you, you couldn't be happier with the house purchase. But that's only until two months after it.

It started with soft noises on the walls. Noises that seemed to come from nowhere and that ceased the moment you tried to investigate. Although you were a bit worried, you convinced yourself that maybe it had something to do with the pipes and the growing cold temperature that fall started to bring, so you moved on.

But then stuff began to move around the house - furniture, decorative items, and even groceries around the kitchen. And you weren’t so chill about it all anymore.

“Maybe you’re just tired, honey.” Was what Wanda said after you told her one night, her hand running circles around your back after the two of you were seated on the bed. You were sure of what you saw. But you were also sure that, with the working on the house and spending more time in the office due to your promotion, you were indeed tired.

So you just smiled before kissing her goodnight and things got better after that. But not for long.

“What was that?” The redhead asked one afternoon - when you were reading a book while she was sitting on the couch, watching one of those old sitcoms she likes -, her eyes growing wide when she heard a few notes coming from the piano, untouched by the corner.

“It wasn’t me.” You state the obvious, since you were some good feet away and hadn’t moved a muscle after you turned the page ten seconds ago. Your wife was about to brush it off and go back to her show when the loose melody of the random keys began once more.

Her magic lifted the piano lid before you could raise your eyes from the book again - maybe to check if there was a rat responsible for the noise or something, you thought. But there was nothing, and the both of you gasp loudly as the notes start again, with no musician responsible for it.

“What…” Your voice comes out shaky, and before the question can come out fully, the redhead flickers her wrist, chaos magic around her fingers. Your frown of confusion turns to one of disbelief as you see the scarlet energy bringing into the living room a pair that is having a hard time controlling their laughter, even though they look scared of being caught.

“Boys, this isn’t funny, your mother was terrified.” Wanda tells them seriously, standing up from the couch and crossing her arms in front of her body in that way that makes the boys - and yourself - afraid. “No, I was not.” You grumble, but the redhead just glares at you, so you decide to stay quiet.

“Apologize. Now.” The woman demands her kids once her eyes land back on them. Billy and Tommy have mixed expressions of apology and embarrassment as they turn on their heels to face you, their eyes finding difficulty in meeting yours.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“It was just a silly prank, we didn’t mean to scare you.”

The almost sorrowful tone they use makes your chest hurt. During the few weeks that the pranks lasted, you expressed your concerns to your family, warning them to be careful around the house and to let you know if they saw anything strange. The kids always laughed, but you assumed that they just weren't taking you seriously, not that the two little rascals were actually the cause of the strange things.

“It’s okay, doves, come here now.” You invite them for a hug, smiling when they take no time on doing so, expressing their apologies again as they wrap their arms around your neck. Wanda, with her arms still crossed, smiles lovingly as she shakes her head, making you giggle softly.

“How were you doing that anyways?” You ask with curiosity, and the boys pull away from you to look you in the eye. “I finally got my powers. Not like Tommy. I’m more like mom.” Billy is the one who answers, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he makes a cobalt-blue energy dance around his fingers.

“That’s so awesome, little dude!” You say as you mess with his hair, making him giggle with rosy cheeks. “But how about you use them for things other than giving your parents a heart attack?” You suggest with a raised eyebrow, and the smaller twin grumbles an agreement as he lowers his hand, the energy ceasing.

Before any of you can say anything else, every piece of furniture in the room starts shaking at once. Everyone's eyes widen as you look around. The kids cling to you for protection - Wanda moving close to protect them as well - and your eyes scan the room for some sign of explanation. Maybe it was an earthquake, you think, but the idea leaves your mind as soon as you notice that only the furniture is moving, not the whole house.

“What was that?” Tommy asks in a tiny voice, his eyes so wide they look like they’re going to pop out at any moment. “Billy, I told you to stop it.” Wanda says in a reproachful tone, but the boy just shakes his head eagerly. “It wasn’t me!”

“Tommy?” You are the one who asks this time, but your other son just shakes his head as well. “I didn’t do anything!”

And then, as fast as it had started, the moving of the objects ended, leaving the four of you in complete silence. The boys loosen their grip around your neck, breathing out a sigh of relief, and you take the opportunity to stand up. But before you can tell them everything is okay, a loud banging on the walls echoes through the room, making the two boys scream in fear.

“Run!” Wanda doesn’t need to tell them twice, Tommy holding his brother by the hand and disappearing at full speed to hide in their room. You don’t have much time to wonder what caused the commotion after that, because your wife’s little smirk gives her away.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” You ask in a mixed tone of amusement and disbelief, prompting her to let out a giggle. “I had to teach them a lesson.” It’s the answer the redhead gives you, shrugging her shoulders good-naturedly, and it's your turn to laugh. “You’re mean.”

“It’s called parenting.” She hits back with a playful tone, biting back a smile, and you shake your head in amused disapproval. The two of you share a laugh then and, with a mischievous exchange of glances, you decide to postpone telling your children the truth for the time being.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x you

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kittenintheden · 15 days

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Not Your Sweetheart Ch 38 - UH OH!

Not Your Sweetheart Chapter 38 - UH OH!

Once, there was a haunted bluegrass-playing half-elf bard with a dark past who met a charmingly cringefail elven vampire with a dark past and they flirted one another into oblivion until they fell in love. They collect a group of delightful chucklefucks on the road and they all banter their way through the darkness to face their demons and save the world together.

A retelling of the campaign written with sitcom-level dialogue and tons of found family and healing from trauma tropes. Very Schitt's Creek but with more violence.

AKA 18 Charisma bard sees through 10 Charisma vamp-boy's bullshit and falls for him anyway. But he falls first.

---

Enter the villains. They suck real bad. Everybody's nervous and they all kiss. Shadowheart has some light voyeurism, as a treat. Read on AO3. Also I'm on Twitter now.

Commissioned piece of the dorks by the fantastically talented @hamrikaa (see the full thing in Ch 10).

---

High on the hills of the Upper City, a horned woman stands on a third-floor balcony and ruminates, her clever fingers running over the length of the long white braid falling over her shoulder.

It’s no Menzoberranzan, this odd little anthill on the Sword Coast, but it holds its fair share of secrets and scandals nonetheless. It hadn’t been difficult to settle in and rebuild, especially once the former College head found themselves on the unfortunate end of a poisoned crossbow bolt. The network of Whispers needed guidance and far be it for her to leave them wanting.

But Belladawn did not choose to rebuild. Her hand was forced.

And for that, her daughter must die screaming.

She hasn't heard from her informant since yesterday, which is unfortunate, but ultimately neither here nor there. They served their purpose when they let her know a woman matching her prodige's description set foot in one of the outer villages.

Belladawn curls her lip. Pink hair, they'd told her before she lost contact. Not the white of her birth. Cut short and enchanted petal pink, of all things. Gods below, Orianna had always been such a child. For so long, Belladawn felt certain she could be taught. But no. Frivolity and weak-willed attachment ran in her blood.

The elf raises her fingers in front of her lips, rubbing them together as she curses her own weakness for the thousandth time. What a fool she'd been to spread her legs for a human, no matter how charming or clever. Even a drow-son would have aided in a better heir.

Humans. Baldur's Gate crawls with the things, much as it does with vermin. Two-thirds of the informants she's gathered are human and their skills are sorely lacking. They play the game and think themselves brilliant for it. Pathetic, power-hungry trash.

With a huff, she turns to reenter her suite, hair whipping behind her in discontent. If nothing else, at least she knows now that Orianna has finally rid herself of her own human burden. Belladawn hopes it was miserable for them both.

#astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x original female character #astarion x f!tav #kitten writes #not your sweetheart

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coolbanana44 · 1 year

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Unexpected

AN: This is my first time writing so please don't judge! If you like it let me know and if you want to give me requests on more stuff I should write I will gladly take them! Please enjoy

Summary: you are nervous to share some news to Charles.

When I was little I used to go to my grandparents house and play with baby dolls my grandma would set up for me. My grandparents would coo and awe at me when I used to pretend to feed the babies and put them in their cribs. I remember that I would carry this one doll, which I named Julia, around their house and pretend to show her things as if she was real. I even used to bring her to the dinner table and make her sit on my lap while I ate dinner. It’s funny how we have motherly instincts at such a young age, ready to protect and provide for something that is made out of plastic.

Now in my twenties I am peeing on a plastic stick, which could determine the rest of my life. My period was 3 weeks late, and I didn’t know whether I should be excited or anxious as I sat on the toilet waiting for the 5 minutes to go by as the pregnancy test lay on the edge of the porcelain sink. My mind was going back to those times at my grandparents thinking about how silly I was carrying around that doll pretending it was real. Now it could be very real, and that is what sends me over the edge. What my parents think, oh my god what will Charles think.

Charles and I have been dating for 3 years, and we only brought up the idea of having a baby when we are married once. He always loved children, playing with my baby cousins when we would go over for the holidays, but with his career in Ferrari on full throttle you don’t know if he will be happy with a little bean right now.

5 minutes are up as I look at my phone.

“This is it.” I whispered as I got up from the toilet. I slowly reached for the test and closed my eyes when I brought it up to my face. I suck in a breath as I open my eyes. Two lines.

“Oh my fucking god.” I break down. I slide against the wall, crying out in worry and frustration over not knowing what Charles would think.

As if my life Is some kind of sick sitcom, I hear our apartment door open and close with Charles' voice following right after.

“Y/N I’m home.” I hear him put his keys on the kitchen counter. I am silent, letting the tears fall down my face slowly.

“Mon amour are you here?” I’m scared, holding my breath.

This time I hear him closer.

“Mon ange I see the bathroom light on. Are you okay?” He finally knocks.

“I’m fine.”

“Mon amour it sounds like you are crying.” He says in his soothing voice. He opens the door to see me with red puffy eyes, curled up in a pathetic little ball on the ground. He bends down with his eyes locked on mine, not even seeing the test in my hands.

“What happened mon ange?” As he wiped he wiped his hand across my cheeks. I close my eyes and lean into his hands just to bask into his soft touch. Still with my eyes closed I lifted up the plastic to show him what has been causing my break down. I don’t hear anything for a minute, during that minute I get myself ready for the backlash and the anger of how this could put his career on hold.

“Mon ange are we really having a baby?” He whispers and I can hear the wavering in his voice. That's when I look up and see he has also gained silent tears on his cheeks. It's my time to speak.

“Are you mad?” He looks at me gently but confused.

“What? No. Oh my god no. This is the best news in my entire life. We are gonna be parents and have a little bean running around.” He starts to laugh softly.

“I’m gonna be a dad. This is what I have always dreamed of with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. I can’t wait.” He puts the test back on the counter and lifts me off the ground, walks us out of the bathroom and swirls me around in the air as we both laugh. He sets me down and takes my hands.

“This is one of the best days of my life, and I’ve wanted to do this at the right time, but now this just seems perfect.” He takes one hand out of my grip and reaches for his pocket. He bends down on one knee, taking out a black velvet box. That's when I lose it, my eyes immediately start to swell as I gasp.

“I know I told you I was out for a meeting, but I was actually meeting with the jeweler to pick this up.” That's when he opens the box and I see the most gorgeous ring in my entire life.

“Y/N when you walked into that small grocery store I knew you were the most beautiful woman in the world. When we went out on our first date, and we were laughing and talking about everything and nothing, I knew I had to marry you. You are my biggest supporter and biggest competitor in mini golf, and I couldn’t be happier than having you by my side for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Oh my god it's always gonna be yes!” I yell. I yank him up from the ground and tug him towards me so I can give him a kiss. As we disconnect from the passionate kiss we both look down and he slides the ring on my finger.

“I promise to always take care of you.” He bends down and caresses my tummy.

“And I promise to always take care of you.”

In that moment I know everything's gonna be alright. I start to laugh and cry while looking down at my amazing fiance as he kisses my stomach. I start to think of the future and realize I’m Not gonna be doing this alone like I used to do with my dolls, but that I am going to be doing it with the man that I love more than anything in the world.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #pregnancy #formula one #f1 imagine

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yelenasdiary · 2 years

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Enough || Part III

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Is it possible for you to give Wanda another chance or will it cause more damage than good?

18+ MINORS DNI! – I am NOT responsible for the content you consume online. I’ve provided warnings, if you refuse to acknowledge them, this is at your own risk.

Translation: miláčik (darling), srdiečko (sweetheart), dievčatko (baby girl), princezná (princess)

Key: e/c (eye colour)

AC: I love how this wasn’t intended to have a part 2 and now it’s got a part 3. Also, please bear with me Sokovia was bordered by Slovakia so Wanda speaks Slovakian in this. Enjoy! (this better not get me banned lmao)

“What do you want, baby?” Wanda asked, repeating the same words you asked her months ago. Still speechless your mind running with many different thoughts. Her eyes looked hopefully for a positive answer, but your mind was clouded with what ifs.

“I…. if you…I…Wanda” you stuttered trying to piece together your words, “I ca... I won’t be able to cope if you break my heart again. Everything you’re saying right now is just words and I was always told that actions speak louder than words”

“Give me a little time to show you, please…please don’t leave…if you go” her eyes built up with tears as you slowly pulled your hands out of her hold. “Y/n, I can’t lose you again”

Cold silence filled the room once again, this time you thought about things differently and wondered if giving her this once chance might be okay or would it ruin you even more. The hurt in her eyes gave you the same hurtful feeling you felt 7 months ago when she walked out the door, could you find it within yourself to do the same? Leave her with the broken heart to fix like she did to you? No, never.

“One chance” you spoke ever so softly, “Once chance Wanda, it’s all I can give you…” you added.

Wanda smiled lightly; her eyes showed a faint sparkle at your words. “Once chance” she repeated with a nod showing she understood that if she ruined this again, you’d never give her another.

“I should go…I have some things to sort out” you made the excuse, wanting to give yourself time to think and really be sure this was a good idea. “Yeah, sure” Wanda walked you to the door, “Y/n” she spoke as you walked out. You turned around and were met with her big green eyes once again, “I meant what I said…I will give you my all”.

A soft smile tugged on the corner of your lips before you left.

----

For a few weeks, Wanda took things slowly. She left mugs of hot coffee at your medical station every morning just moments before you arrived, so it was still hot. Then on your lunch break every second day she brought you over some lunch she’d make for you along with the two of you smiling at each other in passing.

Things eventually turned into more public affection. When the team had game night or a relaxing night with popcorn and movies Wanda would always invite you. She’d drape an arm around you when nobody was paying attention and every time she did so, you snuggled closer to her to soak up her body warm that would keep you warm in the winter. Soon you found yourself in her room some nights with take-out and card games and watching sitcoms together while cuddled up in her bed.

It would be a lie to say that you weren’t falling for her all over again although this time definitely felt different. A wave of love rushed through your body when she whispered sweet nothings to you while watching movies. You feel a sense of change deep within Wanda’s heart, but her eyes still begged for forgiveness.

“Wands”

“Yes miláčik?” she replied twirling a lock of your hair as your head rested on her shoulder. You loved when she spoke Slovakian, you missed it. She used to only speak it when you’d spent the night in her bed.

“Tony is holding another one of his parties and I wanted to know if maybe you’d come…with me?” you asked slowly lifting your heard to look at her.

“Are you sure? I want to of course but are you sure you want to take that step?” she looked into your eyes as you nodded. “I think we will be fine” you softly smiled.

“Well then, of course I will come with you” Wanda replied with a kissed on the top of your head.

----

You weren’t nervous about Tony’s party, but you could tell Wanda was. The two of you had been enjoying things as they were, just the two of you and her team working out that both of you were working things out together.

“You’re nervous” you watched Wanda put on her boots on.

“Not when I have you by my side” Wanda smiled up at you, “come on, we’ll be late” she added before grabbing her phone.

The party was crowded, no surprises there. You, Wanda, Natasha, Clint, and Thor stood together as a group, drinking your drinks, and laughing at Thor’s best Tony impression. Wanda slightly stood behind you with one arm around your waist, every now and then she’d whisper in your ear how beautiful you looked and how lucky she was to be here with you.

Everything was swell before Nat, Clint and Thor left you and Wanda alone for a while.

“Wanda? Oh my god! Wanda! Hi!” a young dark hair woman stopped in her tracks, she was beautiful and no doubt Wanda’s type. Wanda looked at her confused as if she didn’t know who she was. “It’s me” the woman smiled, “It’s Charlotte” Wanda still looked confused, “we met at Tony’s last party? I was work the bar” the woman added, your heart sunk once Wanda realised who she was.

“Oh, Charlotte, hi…uhm, how have you been?” Wanda asked with a fake smile.

“I’m good! It’s been how long? Agh, I had so much fun that night” she smirked making you roll your eyes and slightly shake of your head. Wanda felt you move slightly away from her; her eyes look at you with a look of sorry written over her face. “Uh, yeah, it was a good night” Wanda replied in an uncomfortable tone.

Charlotte lent in towards Wanda’s right hear and whispered something you couldn’t hear, the sound of plastic hitting the floor caught your attention. Your eyes dropped and saw a hotel key, Wanda’s eyes burned into you as Charlotte pulled away. “Oops! I’m always dropping things” Charlotte quickly covered up her sly attempt to hand Wanda the space hotel key.

“Y/n, srdiečko, let’s go. I think we could use a refill” Wanda reached for you which you ignored.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t aware you were here with somebody” Charlotte played off.

“I was literally standing next to Wanda but sure” you mumbled. Charlotte threw you a glare at your sarcasm.

“Y/n, please, let’s just go” Wanda’s hand still reached out for you, “please” she mouthed.

“I mean…if she’s not interest Wanda”

“Shut the hell up!” Wanda snapped at Charlotte giving her a glare that almost made her eyes flash red. To avoid a scene you grabbed Wanda’s hand, “let’s just go Wands” you looked at her.

Wanda gently led the two of you out of the party, to the cold hall just outside the room. “This is why I was nervous” Wanda starts.

“Why? Because there’s a handful of people you’ve slept with here?” you snapped.

“I know what it looks like, Y/n”

“You do? Good because I didn’t want to have to ask you if you slept with her the night, you turned your back on us!” anger filled your body as you recalled the night many months ago. “Did you serious sleep with her after I told you I loved you?!” tears filled your e/c eyes.

“No! I swear I didn’t! After I left that night…I got drunk, we had a few drinks, and she made a move, but I left. Nothing happened after that. We kissed and that was it” Wanda tried to explain.

“I knew this was a bad idea! I knew I should’ve just left!” you mumbled to yourself, taking a few steps away from Wanda.

“Y/n, please…don’t say that. We’ve been good recently, right? please don’t say this was a mistake”

“Wanda how can I believe you? She literally tried to give you her hotel key, right in front of me may I add” you turned to look at her once again.

“I was stupid, yes! But I’m not that low”

“What did she whisper to you?”

Wanda shook her head, “It doesn’t matter”

“What did she whisper Wanda? I want to know” crossing your arms over your chest. Wanda sighed, “she just said – “

“Word for Word” you cut her off.

“I miss the chats we shared and laughs we made. I came here hoping you’d be here, I’m still open for a night of fun if you are” Wanda looked you in the eyes as she repeated word for word, “then she tried to slide me her hotel key” she added.

“Is this what it’s going to be like? We’re at the mall and we run into another one of your one-night stands? Somebody you didn’t call back? People who want to repeat such a magical night with you?” uncrossing your arms and brushing your hair back behind your ear, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that when I said I’d give you another chance…and now I just- “

“Don’t say it…baby, please. Just forget about them, they mean nothing to me. You know this” Wanda stepped closer to you, her hands reaching for your hips. “I know I haven’t made things easy with this…I know we might get looks and whispers but honestly, let them. Let them whisper, let them look, let them run either mouth, let them be jealous that it’s you that I’ve fallen in love with” Wanda took the last step closer to you. Her hands rested on your hips; tear drops fell from your cheek.

“You…you said you liked me” your mind replayed the moment weeks ago when Wanda confessed, she liked you. Wanda nodded, “I did but I’ve realised that losing you and the thought of not seeing you anymore is a reality I don’t want, and I think about you all the time” she caused a smile to from on your lips, “dievčatko, I think about you every night before a fall asleep and your still on my mind when I wake up. Seeing you even just for a moment makes my heart skip a beat, I think that means I love you” Wanda added.

Any anger you had slowly faded away the longer you looked into her eyes. “You mean that?” you asked her, you just wanted to hear her say it again.

“I do” she placed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you Y/n” she looked back into your eyes. Not giving it a second thought, your lips met hers for the first time in a long time. You pulled her closer as she deepened the kiss, holding you a little tighter at your hips.

Only pulling away for air, you whispered against her lips, “let them talk, right?”

“That’s right, let them talk baby” she kissed you once again.

----

It was a little hard for the first few months when Wanda and you decided to make things official, going out for date night sometimes would be interrupted with a random person you’ve never seen before but they knew Wanda. She was nice to them but always kept the interactions short and sweet, always assuring to intro you to them.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/n” always made you flush, and Wanda knew it, she saw the red that filled your cheeks, and she took pride in that. Any chance she got; she showed you off as her partner. One days where she wasn’t doing Avenger stuff, you’d find her and you in her bed cuddling or outside taking long walks. Most of your nights were spent with Wanda, she held you protectively as you’d fall asleep in her arms. She cooked for you, she continued to bring you coffee and lunch, she waited for you at the end of each shift as you would wait for her at the helipad whenever she would return from missions.

Wanda just returned from a two-month mission, a wide smile on her lips the moment she saw you waiting.

“Hi baby” you smiled, pulling her in for a long passionate kiss.

“Mmm” she hummed, “Hi dievčatko” she smiled against your lips before kissing you once more. Wrapping her arms around you tightly. “God, I missed you and that accent” you giggled when she picked you and spun you around, “I missed you so much, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call” she placed you back on your feet. “Don’t worry, I knew if something was wrong, I’d somehow find out” you stroked her cheeks with both hands, “you need a shower” you pointed out, wiping a speck of dirty from under her left eye. “Want to join me?” she whispered. You nodded; your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

----

Steam from the shower filled the Wanda’s bathroom as warm water ran over your naked bodies. The heated make out season only added to the steam fogging the mirror above the sink.

“I hated leaving you” Wanda said as her lips moved to your neck, her hands running down your ribs to your hips. “I know, baby” you threw your head back gently against the wall to give her more access to your neck. Wanda left serval visible marks, soft moans left your lips when she toyed with your nipples, “Wands” you moaned when she pinched a little harder. Her lips latched onto your left nipple, your right hand resting on Wanda’s wet hair while you moaned once more. Releasing with a pop she returned the same attention to your right breast, her left hand creeping up your thigh.

“Is it because of the shower or me?” she smirked after releasing your right breast from her lips.

“Shut up” you playful shook your head pulling her back to your lips, another moan left your lips when Wanda rested her forehead against yours and moving her right thigh between your legs. “Cum on my thigh” she whispered before kissing your lips once more, her right hand lifting your left leg up slightly. You start rubbing yourself against her thigh slowly, moan more when she returned to leaving kisses on your neck. Eventually moving faster, one hand placed on the wall and the other pressed against the glass wall of the shower to keep your balance. Wanda’s hand squeezed your butt tightly as she helped guide you to move faster.

“Harder” you huffed in a moan, her high rubbing your clit in the right stop to throw your head back once more. Wanda applied a little more pressure to her hold on you as you sped up the speed. “I’m gonna cum baby, fuck!”

“Go on srdiečko” Wanda smirked.

Hearing her accent cut the coil in your stomach, Cumming on her thigh with her name leaving from your lip’s serval times. Wanda held you up as you came down from your high, crashing your lips back on your hers once you were stable again.

Your hands roamed her body like she did yours, caressing her breasts causing her to moan. “Baby don’t tease me today, please” she begged, “I’ve missed you” she adds was your lips worked down to her chest, taking her right nipple into your mouth, rolling your tongue around her harden bud. “That’s a good girl” Wanda moaned; her head thrown back as you pleasured her nipples.

The two of you forgetting about the running water as your lips travelled further down her body before you rested yourself on your knees. “Look at me princezná” Wanda spoke before you kissed the inside of her thighs. You looked up at her, water droplets covered both of your faces.

“If you’re a good girl and make mommy cum, I’ll let you ride my fingers, okay?” she spoke.

“Yes mommy” you nodded.

“Go on baby, give mommy what she needs” Wanda smirked before spreading her lips wider for you. Gently you placed her right leg over your shoulder, leaving kisses on the inside of her thigh before licking one strip up through her folds where she needed you the most.

“That’s it baby” she moaned once she felt you leave kisses on her outer lips before paying extra attention to her clit. Wanda used one hand to keep her steady while her other hand found your head and slightly pushing your further into her. You parted her outer lips with your tongue to expose the inner lips, and then kissed them softly earning another loud moan from Wanda, “srdiečko, don’t tease” she groaned.

You smirked before dipping your tongue into her wet hole a few times before licking a few more strokes through her folds. “I swear to god dieťa!” Wanda moaned pushing herself more into you, that’s when you drew circles around her clit with your tongue. “Fuck, srdiečko! Your tongue is heaven!” she moaned once more. The more moans you got from her the faster you started lapping at her.

“Keep going srdiečko, mommy’s gonna cum!” Wanda warned which only made you apply a little more pressure to her clit. “Yes!” she almost screams as she became undone, helping her ride out her high making sure none of her juices went to waste.

“Maybe I should go away more often” Wanda caught her breath.

“I missed you mommy” you said as you got back on your feet, Wanda crashing her lips onto you again, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips. “You really did miss mommy, didn’t you”

“I did” you nodded, “I best give you your reward than” Wanda winked, two of her fingers running through your folds. “Did making mommy cum make you more wet, srdiečko?” she asked. Again, you nodded, “please” you whimpered.

“You’re such a good girl, using your manners” Wanda kissed your collar bone, using your slick to cover her fingers before easing two into your needy hole.

“Oh, srdiečko, you’re so warm” she kissed your jaw, “and tight” her lips met yours again. You held onto Wanda’s shoulders, your nails digging into her skin as she started thrusting her fingers in and out of your pussy.

“Fuck!” you moaned when she went faster. “Mommy, you f-feel so good” your eyes rolled back to the back of your head.

“Play with your little clit for me, srdiečko” Wanda instructed.

You played with the bundle of nerves, moaning loudly when Wanda went slightly harder. Clenching around her fingers she knew you were close.

“You’re close, you can cum baby” she kissed your neck once again.

“Agh! I’m close” you didn’t quiet hear her words.

“I know, srdiečko, cum for mommy” she whispered in your ear pushing you over the edge once more. “I’ve got you” she said, slowly removing her fingers and holding you up as you returned to reality.

Wanda helped wash you up before wrapping you in her robe and guiding you to the share bed, your body tired and worn out, not that you were complaining.

“Go to sleep, srdiečko. I’m right here” you heard Wanda whisper before drifting off to sleep.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision #marvel #the avengers #fanfiction

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drunkjaked · 2 years

Text

BREEZY ft park jongseong

just some sweet and domestic(?) fingering and riding bf jay /// smut (mdni) + 1433 words.

pairing: bf!jay x fem!reader (reader is explicitly called a girl a couple times)

enjoy !! bc apparently i only post jay fics on milestones :) happy 6 months friends, here’s to many more <333

A light breeze sneaks into your room as the sun goes down, leaving the sky a pretty purple, the grey clouds letting rain fall from them, and the light pitter patter against the open window is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

Jay watches from the bed as you strip off, cock twitching in his underwear at the way your nipples harden immediately against the cool air of the bedroom when you slip off your shirt. He covers his mouth in a yawn and holds in his protests when you pull on a baggy shirt in place of the fitted one you’d left on the end of the bed.

When you pull the blanket back, his legs are spread under it and before you can tell him to move up, he lazily pats the space between his legs. You sit with no hesitation, laying back and settling in against Jay’s chest, letting your head rest on his shoulder, comfy, relaxed. His bare torso is toned against your back, skin warm enough to leave you regretting the t-shirt you have on, though you’re too tired to remove it.

After a while, his arm comes around your waist, hand resting innocently enough on your lap as he uses the remote to turn on the TV, the display quickly lighting up the room around you. He scrolls through streaming apps, pausing over the shows he knows you like and continuing to search for the next one until you’re satisfied. It doesn’t take too long for you to nod excitedly at a sitcom the two of you had already watched together and Jay feels his tummy flutter when you laugh at a familiar cold open.

Despite your enthusiasm, your attention dwindles as soon as Jay lets his fingers slip under your shorts, hand resting over your thin panties and the wet patch that stains them - which he’s polite enough not to point out. Even though he doesn’t move, the fact that he might is enough to keep you from regaining your focus on the show, the mere thought of your boyfriend playing with you forcing your breath to pick up in pace.

When you think about it, it probably hasn’t even been twelve whole hours since the last time he touched you but with his fingers so close - and somehow still so far - it feels like such a long time since then. And his sweet laugh makes your heart leap in your chest and it seems as though he’s forgotten that he’s so close to touching you at all. Maybe you should too.

As if he can sense that he’s not holding your full attention anymore, Jay runs a strip from your clit to your hole and you shudder at the feeling of his finger pushing some of the fabric into you. Your breath quickens again as he plays with your clit through your underwear, mumbling more in hopes that he’ll move the material out of the way.

“More episodes?” He asks, his hand freezing in place. “We can watch as many as you want, baby.”

You push out an impatient sigh, pressing your back as close to him as possible. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

Thankfully, the teasing doesn’t last long and he pushes your panties to the side, finger touching your clit, stroking it, the way you’d wanted him to. He’s slow at first, gentle, teasing (in your opinion). You open your mouth to tell him you want more, closing it when you remember his earlier quip about more episodes. You decide you’ll take what he gives you.

And you don’t regret it.

His index finger trails leisurely from your clit to your hole, sighing when he gets to properly feel how wet you are. How much you want him. His lips press a kiss to the skin of your neck. And another. And one more before he sucks on the spot, with just enough force to drag a moan out of you.

You can feel him smiling against your skin, and there’s no way to be sure if it’s love or the feeling of his fingers dipping into you, two at once - splitting you open, that makes your stomach turn. He curls them towards your belly button, letting his thumb rub at your clit again in a way that makes you shake under his touch, body shifting between his legs. He presses a kiss to your temple, mumbling to you, telling you to sit still as he pushes a third finger into you. You hum in response.

When you don’t manage to follow through, he uses his other arm to hold you flat against his chest while he plays with you. “You’re so pretty, baby.” Jay whispers, pulling the shell of your ear between his teeth.

“You can’t even see me.”

“Mm, but I can feel you.”

His words make you shudder and he groans when you clench around him. The closer you get, the more difficult it becomes to pretend not to notice how hard he is behind you and you can’t help but clench again at the way he feels when you rut against him.

All it takes is a mumbled, you want it? (And a whine from you in response) for him to beg ask you to turn around to face him, wasting no time before pulling you into his lap and pressing his lips to yours, moaning at the feeling of your tongue against his.

The mutual desperation is evident in the way he tears your shirt off, bucking his hips up into yours as you grind down on him — dizziness setting in at the feeling of him hard against your core, already so close from his fingers that it feels like you could finish right then and there.

You hold back a whimper at the loss of contact when you raise your hips, giving him space to move his (and your) underwear out of the way, far too impatient to waste time actually taking them off.

But not too impatient to tease you, stroking himself a few times as he lets his tip graze at your entrance, dragging back and forth across your wetness before slipping in, his head falling forward at the feeling of your cunt pulling him in.

Given that he’d already stretched you out with his fingers, it doesn’t sting very much - if at all, too absorbed in the way he fills you up to register anything apart from how good it feels.

“Thank you,” Jay mumbles against the skin of your shoulder, leaving kisses and marks wherever he can. “You’re perfect.” And he means it – the perfect girl, the perfect fit. The praise goes straight to your core and you can’t help but tighten around him, moaning his name and hugging him close to you as he thrusts upwards, doing all the work for the both of you.

He’s louder than what you’re used to with him, groaning a little every time you rut against him. Sighing in relief when you sink your nails into his skin. Whining every time you clench. It’s turning you on more than you can bear and the only thing you can bring yourself to say is that you’re close.

“Do you think you can go a little longer?” He asks you, completely breathless though his thrusts don’t let up. “Wanna-” a heavy sigh slips from his pretty lips before he can continue. “-cum at the same time.”

You know how much he loves cumming together, loves the feeling of you soaking him while he fills you up, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it too. Which is why you nod, telling him you’ll try for hi-”Cumming.” You cry out into his neck, screwing your face up against his skin.

Jay lets his hand find your hair, stroking the back of your head as you shake against him, his voice a comfort as he whispers in your ear, slowing down his pace a little. “Such a good girl.” He coos, kissing the side of your head.

It’s hard to calm down with the way he’s fucking you, everything too wet, too warm, too sensitive, to think about anything other than his cock and the way it twitches and grazes your walls. You can feel his chest shuddering against you and there’s something almost romantic about the way he finishes when you tell him you love him, rubbing circles on his back and praising him through his release as his hips buck into yours once more, leaving you warm and full of him.

perm taglist: @chaersworld @5xiang @sunghoonmybeloved

masterlist | other jay fics

lmk ur thoughts if u want it’s up to you okay thank u for reading i appreciate it 💕💕💕

#park jay smut #park jay hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #park jay x reader #enhypen x reader #park jay au #enhypen au #drunkjaked: breezy

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overthinkingfandom · 2 years

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Protagonist Paradigm Exemplar - A character analysis of Tommy

(Part 1)

/rp /dsmp

The topic of Tommy’s hero complex is a discussion that pops up every now and then in fandom.

The discussion is often framed around a couple of specific moments: The time Techno asked Tommy whether he wanted to be a hero on Nov 16, and the time Dream accused him of wanting to be one during the Disc Finale.

Many people rightfully point out that being a hero is the last thing Tommy wants. He isn’t someone who’s praticulary driven by justice to protect the weak and helpless. Nor is he looking to be the person to swoop in and save the day, praised and admired for his heroics. In fact, he would probably be more than happy to never be involved with a war or a high stakes conflict for the rest of his life.

However, by focusing so much on those two specific moments the discussion gets railroaded in a particular direction. One that focuses on the idea of “hero” in the context of Theseus and Greek heroes.

Yet that’s not the only possible meaning the word “hero” can have. A lot of people use it as a synonym for the main character of a story. The protagonist. To be clear, despite being used interchangeably by many, protagonist doesn’t mean “hero”. It doesn’t even mean “good guy”. It merely means “main character”.

Having said that, we know Tommy doesn’t think of himself as a hero like the Greeks, but does he think of himself as a hero like a protagonist?

Tommy: “What if- what if the protagonist over there had a family bond that you simply couldn’t comprehend due to your loneliness on this server and lack of family, so he had to stick with him even though there might have been a slight amount of reluctance in there. Also, he’s had some pretty hard times over these past few months, such as exile uh depression uh lots of terrible things so maybe you should go light on this protagonist.”(x)

Yes. Yes he does.

This protagonist complex is something which accompanies the character from his very first days on the server and affected much of his development throughout the plot, but the true origin of Tommy’s protagonist complex started before even that.

It started with the very conception of the character.

Roleplay has always been a part of DSMP’s identity in one way or another. However, back when it first started it was more along the lines of a sketch comedy or a sitcom rather than the epic character-based tale we have today. The ccs would log on and play their personas, bouncing off each other and causing all kinds of shenanigans before eventually resolving it. There was no script to follow, instead the plot was formed through a combination of roleplay and improv etiquette.

It’s no surprise then that many of those personas took on qualities of the archetypes common in sitcoms. Those archetypes are more than just a collection of personality traits, they often also indicate the role a character has in the joke so it’s easy to fall into them naturally when looking to create humor through character interactions. The influence of those archetypes can be seen most clearly in Tommy’s character, but they also helped shape many of the other characters who grew from their streamer’s persona (like Tubbo, Fundy or Ponk, to name a few).

For cc!Tommy, his persona was a mix between what the industry calls Loveable Loser and what Tv Tropes calls unsympathetic comedy protagonist.

Loveable Losers are common sitcom protagonists. They’re those characters who are driven by their want for something, and in their quest for getting that want they’ll manage to go about it in all the wrong ways. Most of the humor with them comes from their impulsive ideas that are bound to get them in trouble as well as their ability to dig themselves deeper once consequences come knocking. The archetype is very much defined by the character losing, and making that loss as hilarious as possible for the audience.

Which is why it’s a natural fit for the unsympathetic comedy protagonist trope. Despite the name, the trope isn’t about characters who are so hateable no one could sympathize with them. They’re about characters who make it easy to laugh at their misfortune when they bring it upon themselves with their harebrained ideas or by being a jerk.

Of course watching such a character would get tiring fast, so the “loveable” part comes in to balance it out. Whether through their charisma, hidden heart of gold or just an otherwise adorable or cool manner, the character endears themselves to the audience with their charm and makes it fun to watch them, not just to watch them fail.

cc!Tommy relied a lot on what makes those archetypes function in his streams. There was this routine he would do in the early days of the server. He would log on, hatch up a zany scheme (often one which involved getting power, scamming someone or scamming someone in order to get power) and set about implementing it until something went wrong or he provoked people enough that they decided to retaliate.

What followed next was sure to be hilarious. With everyone else also being some shade of asshole, it made it easy to laugh no matter whether our loveable loser ended up bemoaning losing all of his stuff in the conflict again or if he somehow managed to overcome all the obstacles in his way and emerge victorious.

Part of what made this routine so compelling is that it gave cc!Tommy a great way to generate conflict and keep things exciting. Conflict, as we all know, is the bread and butter of stories and indeed that’s what his streams ended up feeling like. Like a story where things were happening, rather than just people hanging out on a live stream.

When cc!Wilbur joined the server the roleplaying really went up a notch. The scope of the bits increased. No longer did they fully revolve around minecraft mechanics - with the main sources of conflict being stolen items or murdered pets - but now they were also about drug monopolies and rebelling countries.

The comedy show aspect was still there but it existed alongside other kinds of stories being told. Sometimes more literally than others. It’s well known that during the Independence War cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy were constantly referencing the musical Hamilton, with cc!Wilbur taking on the role of the mentor character, George Washington, while cc!Tommy adopted the role of Hamilton, the main character himself.

However, unlike the sitcom archetype cc!Tommy played up to that point, the character of Hamilton embodied a more heroic archetype. The impulsive sort, who doesn’t think before he acts but has his heart in the right place. Who despite all his faults still wants to do the Right Thing. You know the one.

That archetype wasn’t hard to incorporate into Tommy's existing characterization. He was already impulsive and not prone to much thinking. He had enough Pet The Dog moments to show that he did indeed have a golden heart underneath all of his many flaws. The only problem was the part about doing the Right Thing.

You see, sitcom characters don’t often concern themselves with the morality of an action, at least not anything beyond what could get them into trouble. Philosophizing too much about Right and Wrong tends to kill the humor, especially when the characters are all assholes to one degree or another. As such, the archetype doesn’t have many internal values associated with it in that regard.

The heroic archetype… also doesn’t have many values associated with it, surprisingly enough. It wants to do the Right Thing but once we start looking at specific details they get a bit scarce. Heroic characters rarely fight because of a specific ideology. More often than not they do so because they have some kind of personal stake in the issue. Those who do fight for a specific ideology tend to be portrayed somewhere in the range between a well intentioned extremist and a villain.

Still, there are some commonalities which tend to emerge. Power is Bad, unless the Right People have it. The status quo is Good, or at most it was Good until the villains made it Bad. Fighting for the personal is more heroic than fighting for the utilitarian big picture. Etc, etc…

Yet, where in most heroic characters those values are baked into the personality (to various levels of success), with Tommy’s character they’re tacked on top the sitcom archetype. Something which creates a lot of dissonance between what the character says he values versus what his actions show he values.

The combination of those two archetypes creates another interesting aspect to it. Both of them are commonly seen with main characters. It makes it easy to look at Tommy’s character and see him as a protagonist, if only because of how familiar that kind of character is. It doesn’t help that cc!Tommy plays into that familiarity because, well…

cc!Tommy: “Until the exile arc my character was basically just me cause I just assumed I was the main character.”(x)

However, DSMP is not a book or a movie. It’s a roleplay, it has no main characters. Or alternatively, everyone is a main character. Everyone is complex and three-dimensional, with their own agendas and internal worlds that don’t revolve around any other character. Furthermore, it’s a story told live on a minecraft server. The cc’s ability to make the world of the story bend over backwards for the sake of the plot is pretty limited. While stuff can be arranged, it’s not common.

So what we end up with is a character who acts like he’s the main character, expects the story to revolve around him like the main character, but isn’t actually the main character.

What we end up with is a character who has all the makings to be someone with a protagonist complex.

Of course, just because a character has the potential to develop a protagonist complex doesn’t mean they will. While those OOC reasons planted seeds, it’s really the plot and the character’s history which really made Tommy’s protagonist complex blossom.

We see those seeds in the way c!Tommy acted during the pre-L’manburg era. From the very beginning he viewed himself as set apart or more important than other people, whether it be by thinking he’s above rules he himself set(x) or by barging into meetings and talking over people to insist his issues were more important than whatever problem they were dealing with(3:43). At his worst, he went so far as to completely disregard any problems people had with him(x).

We see it also in the way he approaches morality, thinking he’s always a good person(x) or in the right(x) regardless of circumstances, as well as judging if someone is his friend by whether they’re on his side or not(x). Protagonist centered morality is what happens when a story treats everything the main character does as Right simply because they’re the main character. Usually it’s a meta trope, used to discuss the narrative, but here we see that Tommy believes in-universe this is how the world works.

Yet that belief is not confined to a single trope. Just in general Tommy seems to believe that life runs on narrative conventions.

Tubbo: “Wait what made us in the right to begin with? Maybe we’re the bad guys.”

Tommy: “No because we’re the funny guys and they’re always in the right.”(x)

Is it any surprise then that when Wilbur came on the server, spinning tales of evil tyrants and heroic revolutionaries, Tommy believed him wholeheartedly?

Not only did the stereotypical story make sense within his existing worldview, it came from Wilbur. Wilbur, who was Tommy’s guiding light. The one he trusted to point him in the right direction and hold him back if he goes too far. His mentor in all but name.

So when the time came to create and fight for L’manburg, Tommy threw himself into playing a persona that would fit the role of heroic underdog revolutionary that Wilbur’s tale laid out for him. As a result, L’manburg lies in the core of the persona he builds, in more than one way.

There are the obvious moments, like the ones we see during the Independence War where Tommy acts for the sake of L’manburg. Nothing says “heroic main character trying to salvage a hopeless situation” quite like butting into the leaders’ surrender negotiations(x) or making the fate of the entire country lay on his shoulders in a one on one duel with the enemy leader(x). Even the character arc Tommy acted out during all of it, of learning to believe in something bigger than himself and act on that belief - to be selfless for a change - fits the heroic persona he was playing.

(And it is playing rather than a genuine arc. Tommy shows a few notable moments of change, such as when he refrains from griefing Dream’s house or gives up the discs for L’manburg’s independence, but there’s no consistent followup on them later down the line. He continues to grief others and even ends up endangering L’manburg in his quest to get the discs without so much as reflecting on those acts. No actual internal change came from this arc, not even one that Tommy ended up backsliding on.

As cc!Wilbur said: “[Tommy] flips his values radically based on tiny non-emotional changes in his environment.”(x) For this reason, I’m describing him as acting a heroic persona which fits his situation rather than say he’s a heroic character with flaws.)

There are subtler ways in which L’manburg influenced Tommy’s protagonist complex as well. One of the first real values Tommy picks up, the values that actually stick with him and consistently influence his actions, is that L’manburg is Good. A value which was only reinforced by him trading the discs to secure its freedom. After all, his discs were Good, right? And if he gave them for L’manburg’s sake that must mean that L’manburg was also Good. Good enough to be worth his precious discs.

But more than that, L’manburg only existed because of his discs. Because of him. Or at least that’s how Tommy saw it. More than once he brought up how he gave up his discs for L’manburg(x) in order to argue that it’s worth preserving and keeping. In fact, it can be argued he felt entitled to L’manburg for his role in its creation.

On the flipside, feeling like L’manburg is his meant that any attacks against the country felt personal, like they were attacking all that Tommy did in order to preserve the country. And considering how L’manburg has been in the center of most conflicts on the server up until it got blown up for good, that made Tommy feel like all those conflicts were personal to him. Even when the other side's desire to destroy L’manburg was completely unrelated to Tommy.

This only reinforced the mindset that he was the one at the center of the story, the one the narrative of the world orbited around. A mindset that eventually led him to proclaim, “This server wasn’t about- this! It wasn’t- It was about me and Tubbo fighting Dream!”(x) when he saw the world moved on and changed during the month he was stuck in prison and/or dead.

(For the sake of not being misunderstood: Yes, Tommy said that because he was freshly traumatized from the events of the prison and his death. No, this does not contradict what I just said. That trauma didn’t create the sentiment behind this quote, it just brought Tommy to a mental state where it became a problem.)

We see Tommy’s possessiveness over L’manburg most obviously after Schlatt wins the elections. When Wilbur does his bad guys speech and asks if he’s the villain for trying to overthrow Schlatt, Tommy answers that he isn’t because “we started L’Manburg and… we should have won that vote.”(x) Even after Wilbur challenges him, correctly pointing out that Schlatt’s appointment is completely legal, Tommy continues acting like Schlatt usurped the throne of L’manburg away from its rightful heirs.

Yet for all of the ways in which Schlatt threatens Tommy during the Pogtopia arc, the one who truly leaves his mark is WIlbur.

Much of Tommy’s protagonist complex can be traced back to Wilbur’s influence in one way or another, an influence that is inextricably linked to the way Tommy sees him as his mentor. Despite being more self aware about it, Wilbur also acts like life runs on narrative conventions. This reinforced Tommy’s own belief, both because Tommy adopted a lot of Wilbur’s mannerisms but also because Wilbur treated him like a protagonist.

Wilbur: “And here’s Tommy. Here’s the man of the hour himself, Tommyinnit. The protagonist is finally here.”(x)

He even went out of his way to put Tommy in the spotlight sometimes. Such as when it was time to kill Schlatt and Wilbur decided to give Tommy the “honor”, despite there being people (like Niki, Tubbo or Quackity) who have an equal or greater claim to that honor due to being personally victimized by Schlatt(x).

But Wilbur’s biggest influence came from his downward spiral. “Let’s be the bad guys,” He told Tommy, “let’s blow that whole thing up!”. In that moment Tommy’s mentor died, stepping out of the story and leaving in his place a threat he had to contend with.

Like any mentor dying, this too forced the “hero” to stand on his own two feet rather than rely on someone else. It’s at this point in time that Tommy really internalizes the role. If Wilbur kept talking about being the Bad Guy, Tommy - who wants to stop him - is by implication the Good Guy.

We see it in the words he chose to use when arguing against WIlbur. “[Blowing L’manburg up] isn’t the moral thing to do,”(x) He told Wilbur when they first discussed it. A sentiment he didn’t express a few days before when he wanted to torch Manburg to the ground to avenge Wilbur’s honor after Fundy disowned him as a father.

Tommy: “Wilbur, take one look at Manburg. Cause it ain’t no more!”(x)

Because really, it’s not that Tommy suddenly gained a conscience about property damage. He didn’t. Even months later he would suggest blowing up the community house and had to be talked down(x). Rather, it’s Tommy retreating further into the “heroic” role in order to distance himself from Wilbur’s “villainous” role.

(Ironically enough, it’s at this point where he embraces the “heroic” role the most that he starts to reject the narrative Wilbur creates for him. The one that places him as the most important person. The one that would place Tommy as the president.)

Wilbur’s tales worked too well, and by the time Pogtopia came Tommy bought into the myth of L’manburg just as much as he bought into the myth of his discs, in a way that was independent of its origin. Seeing Wilbur - the man who came up with the idea and taught it to Tommy and bolstered his faith when it faltered. Seeing that man trying to shatter the myth and go against it shook Tommy to the core. It would’ve been like seeing Tubbo trying to burn his discs.

The more Wilbur spoke about destroying L’manburg the more Tommy dug his heels into the opposite position. If Wilbur wanted to blow it up, Tommy made sure to not allow a block to be out of place, even if he needed to grief Manburg as a distraction(x). If Wilbur went around calling himself the villain, Tommy would pull out the most stereotypical heroic arguments regardless of how relevant they were to the situation(x).

All of this, in addition to Wilbur’s death, left a deep imprint on Tommy. So much so that even months later he talks about the way Wilbur’s “let’s be the bad guys” line rings through his head when he tries to sleep(x). The ghost of that experience haunts him and even without Wilbur around Tommy tries to distance himself from being the “bad guy”.

However, it’s important to note that there’s a very specific kind of “bad guy” he tries to avoid. The image of the “bad guy” Wilbur evoked in his speech and downward spiral. Image being the key word here.

For all he talks about not wanting to be the bad guy, he sure doesn’t mind taking the same actions said bad guys take. That double standard is there in many of his actions, but we can see it even with his objection to Wilbur’s plan to blow up L’manburg. I’ve already talked about how he’s not really opposed to property damage, but one may argue that the thing Tommy took issue with was abandoning L’manburg rather than the way it was done.

Tommy: “So you have all the discs?”

Tubbo: “I believe so, yes.”

Tommy: “So- Sit with me, Tubbo. Right now we could- I mean we could run away from here and we’d never have to- We have everything we ever wanted.”

Tubbo: “We have everything we care about.”

Tommy: *resolute* “No. We can’t. We’re here for L’manburg. We’re not giving up now. We’re gonna restore it.”(x)

Except later in the day, after Wilbur made his speech and Tommy argued with all those pretty words, Tommy considered the very thing he condemned Wilbur for.

While he ends up deciding not to, the way he frames those two situations is very different. With Wilbur he framed it as a moral issue. But when he himself considered the idea, Tommy framed it more along the lines of whether it’s worth it to fight. Not because L’manburg may not be worth saving, but because the fight is hard and they may lose.

What we see here is Tommy’s protagonist centered morality from the early days after it has been entangled with the myth of L’manburg and the heroic role Tommy has been playing all this time. By the time the events of Pogtopia finished, that mindset grew much worse.

This was not helped at all by what came next.

Exile.

Exile did many things, but most importantly in the context of Tommy’s protagonist complex, it cemented Dream’s role as an irredeemable evil villain. Where before he saw Dream as his arch nemesis but still could accept the good sides in him (to the point where he seemed genuinely surprised that Dream wasn’t on their side during for the Pogtopia-Manburg war(x)), now the resulting trauma clouded over any attempt to see Dream outside that role.

Something which Dream abused mercilessly.

In order to pull off the Disc Finale the way he wanted to, Dream had to make sure his actions won’t be looked at too closely. Many of his actions and mistakes would make anyone familiar with his methods raise an eyebrow simply by how stupid they are for achieving his stated goal there. That level of scrutiny wasn't good for someone who relies on information warfare as much as Dream does.

So for the sake of masking his goals and win conditions, Dream played into Tommy’s existing expectations. All of which were colored through his belief that the world runs on narrative conventions with Tommy as the protagonist.

Confirmation bias is a powerful tool and we see Dream continuing to adjust his persona to give Tommy exactly what he expected. “Why?” Tommy asked, and Dream answered: “The server will be at peace now.” “Couldn’t you just do it to me?” Tommy continued, and Dream changed tracks: “This is much more fun.”(x)

The way Dream went about Doomsday was in large part because he needed to establish his supervillain persona before the Disc Finale so it won’t seem like it came out of nowhere. As soon as he got his hands on Tubbo’s disc, Dream switched from his normal, more reasonable demeanor to that of a blatant villain. The more stereotypical the better.

Techno: “Dream, Dream, what’s our plan for tomorrow? Why did you give them a full day? We could’ve been back there in like thirty minutes, Dream.”

Dream: “Well, it’s like an evil villain thing, right? Like you give them time and then-”

Techno: “Ah, an evil villain thing. Cringe. Been watching too much anime.”(x)

From Tommy’s POV, this didn’t seem like an abrupt change but rather Dream taking off the mask and showing his true colors, confirming what he always thought about him.

In fact, everything from exile up until the Disc Finale served to confirm and reinforce Tommy’s perception that the world runs on narrative conventions. Not necessarily because all of it was meant to cause that impression, but because thinking this way made it easier for Tommy to cope with all he has been through.

Tommy: “I fucking miss when times were simpler. When all I had to worry about was defeating one big green guy.”(x)

Seeing the world through narrative conventions allowed Tommy to make sense of things. There are certain ways in which stories go. Consistent arcs and patterns that show up over and over again. If Tommy is the protagonist and Dream his antagonist, that makes the way forward clear. He can rely on tropes and countless other stories told before to figure out what’s going on and put it in context.

But it’s also something that brings comfort. Stories are neat in a way that life isn’t. The good guys win, people learn to be better and once the bad guy is taken down everything is resolved. Tommy held on to the hope that once Dream was defeated, it would all turn out alright, even when Dream’s defeat didn’t logically solve the problems he was facing(x).

Dream’s supervillain persona being so stereotypical and generic made it easier for Tommy to believe in it. It played into two of his beliefs at the same time. Both that life runs on narrative conventions and that Dream is a mustache twirling villain. He had no problem believing Dream would monologue his actual plans or have an evil lair where he puts his schemes on display, because that’s just how villains act, right?

And if Dream is the evil villain and Tommy opposes him, that makes Tommy the hero right? The only one, by choice or by fate, who’s capable of stopping the villain’s evil.

Tommy: “[Dream] was just here to make sure- ‘cause I’m the only one that will thwart him. I’m the only one that Dream’s scared of.”(x)

As a result, Tommy ends up defining himself in large part through his opposition to Dream, which has the same effect as his desperate attempt to distance himself from Wilbur and the “villainous” label he chose during Pogtopia. Only by comparing himself to Dream he also exacerbates his tendency to think he’s always in the right. After all, when the bar for “evil” is set as low as Dream placed it, any lesser fault comes across as inconsequential.

We can see the results of how much he defined himself in his opposition to Dream in him saying that he feels like he has no purpose without Dream(x). We can also see it in his mindset in exile. In fact, this mindset is what allowed him to escape exile in the first place, which is another reason why it’s so hard for him to let go of that mindset.

However, it also opened him up to being more easily manipulated by Dream. Someone who always says no is just as easy to manipulate as someone who always says yes, the key is just presenting your goals as the opposite of what they actually are and then watch the victim rush to be a contrarian. Lying to Tommy also became significantly easier by abusing that persona and narrative conventions to get him to believe it.

Something the Disc Finale shows perfectly. Dream set up the confrontation and played the villain to a T, allowing Tommy to get a storybook ending while giving Dream exactly what he wanted.

This storybook ending marks Tommy’s “completion” of his hero’s journey, and unfortunately it also marks Tommy’s protagonist complex being fully cemented.

#dsmp analysis #c!tommy #tommyinnit #innitblr #dsmp #redtaxproject #character analysis

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