#im sorry but i already hate this comic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bakugoushotwife · 8 months

Text

Bad Liar // katsuki bakugou

a/n: i got soooo carried away with this one lmfao no regrets though, i love bakubaby so bad and this is so self-ship coded no apologies :D this is probably my last piece before kinktober! i know i know boo hiss im sorry, im sorry, i'll probably still pepper in drabbles and headcanons just because :0

cw: suggestive, 16+ to read. bakugo is agressive as always, he has his own language lmao, possessiveness? friends to lovers, hiding it from the bakusquad!

wc: 2.9k

He can’t stand it. It was his stupid idea in the first place, but still, he finds himself knee deep in regret instead of ocean-water. And his friends make everything worse. Oh his stupid, stupid friends and their stupid gatherings and hang out sessions, just irritating him beyond belief. You weren’t included in this tirade, no. Never. You’ve never had a stupid idea in your life, other than agreeing to be his woman, he thinks now.

Denki and Mina would want to go to the beach. That’s so perfectly, stupidly, them. It’s the hottest day of the year, and Katsuki is miserable in so many ways it’s almost comical. Certainly he would laugh if it was happening to anyone but him. He’s already prone to hyperhidrosis due to his quirk nature, and the weather certainly wasn’t helping the matter. He looks like he’s been greased in baby oil or something slimy straight out of the sea. You on the other hand, look—he can’t look. You’ve been friends since your first year at UA, or as close to friends as one really can get with the explosive blond. You seemed not to mind his bristly nature, even when he got a little loud, you never flinched away from him or went out of your way to push his buttons like everyone else.

You were different. You invited him to read your favorite books and mangas with you, you introduced him to new video games and even offered to train together, something that anyone outside of Izuku ran away from. You were unafraid, he realized. He knows he makes it hard. He’s hateful and unforgiving, loud and brash. None of those are good qualities, he’s well aware, but you made him feel like they were. You laughed at his rude comments, only shaking your head or rolling your eyes playfully to disagree. When he got loud, you got louder, a tactic his mom first employed and something he hadn’t realized worked on him so well. No, you made those qualities feel endearing. It wasn’t long before he was inviting you to tag along with him too, teaching you how to make different dishes and even trying your hand at baking while he’s crouched over recipe books spouting the ingredients at you. He wants you to study with him, even if he hasn’t allowed anyone from the inner circle to join him willingly. He always invites you, and he never hides his casual requests for you to come back to his dorm for movies or the newest episode of your favorite anime. He’s completely smitten, clearly.

To everyone, really. It was obvious, even to you. Katsuki is nothing if not prideful, so you were certainly not going to burst his bubble, or allow any of the bakusquad to do so either. You knew he would work through his emotions and thoughts on his own, and he would come to you when he’s ready.

And yes, that took well into your adulthood. School was filled with tragedy after tragedy, you were happy to make it out of there with Katsuki, your friends, and your ability to become a hero still intact. The two of you worked for the same agency for the next couple of years straight out of high school, and that’s what helped him really understand just how different you are. You’re strong, the strongest woman he’s ever seen if he’s honest. Your abilities are insane, your motivation is inspiring, and your knowledge and instinct are only paralleled by his own. Perfect. You’re smart, beautiful, powerful, and so unique. He couldn’t stand it anymore, just watching from the sidelines as he tried to figure out why he was so enamored with you.

Turns out, jealousy is one hell of a motivator.

One day, when he was assigned a different route on patrol and you were sent off with a new male partner, it all made sense. He watched the guy put a hand on the small of your back, dangerously close to the elastic-wrapped mounds of your ass. His ass. He was fuming. The sidekick gave you an excited smile, championing himself lucky to be partnered with such a force–and beauty– as yourself. Katsuki saw it immediately, how the other sidekick was looking at you, it was painfully clear. He wasn’t worried, you would never give this extra your attention–hence how you throw the rando’s arm off of you and stomp away–what does piss him off though, is that other men cannot understand that you might as well walk around with his brand across your forehead. Was he not crystal clear? Even if he hadn’t known that you were unspeakably his, surely everyone else could tell? You two went everywhere together, never was one seen without the other, except for this fuckin’ dumbass patrol–and he was scary enough no one should even think about you in that way.

So he finishes his rounds as early as possible that day, making it back to HQ to meet up with you after your disdainfully different route. He’s pleased to see you alone, leaning up against a doorframe with your skin-tight hero suit still perfectly intact and clinging to your every curve. No drama, no danger, he smirks to himself in relief. The way you look back at him, though, that has his heart stopping in his chest. You look so at ease, your resting bitch face melting into a smile of succor. He can tell you’re just as relieved to see him, the way you jump from foot to foot in excitement tells him so. He can’t help but give you an arrogant half-smile, amused by and admiring your every move. The air is different, the space between the two of you spoke of something different than just friends. He throws his arm around your waist, and you can tell from the look on his face that he’s ready. His red siren gaze sparkles with a bit more intensity, his calloused fingers soothing circles into the curve of your side, even the smile playing at his lips says it all. You’re his now. He knows you know this, and you’re so good to him you won’t even make him say it, but it seemed that his little revelation was enough to change him in a way you didn’t suspect.

“Yer my lady now.” He says, no trace of annoyance, only a slight upturn to the corners of his lips.

“I know. Been your lady for a long ass time.” You chuckle, leaning your head over on his shoulder as you begin the walk home. You couldn’t wait to tell Mina–she would freak the fuck out that he finally made his move. Even more relieved would be poor Kirishima, the man on the receiving end of so many you-themed rants. Denki’s teasing may be endless–and Sero may be the only soul genuinely happy for everyone without making it a big deal. You know the last thing Katsuki wants is to make this a big deal. He was still working his way into emotional fluency, and you didn’t want them to stunt his progress–even though it was well intentioned.

It’s like he can read your mind, or more aptly the subtle knit of your brows and purse of your lips. He knows your brain is hard at work thinking, so he steers you home, his house of course. The weather was decent, cold like he likes. He lets you think, focusing on the sound of your boots crunching in the snow. “What’s going on in that fat head’a yours?”

You chuckle. “I was just thinking about how insufferable our friends are gonna be.” You say, icy fingers reaching for the solace you know awaits in his warm hands. He doesn’t fight you, cupping your hands in one of his. He furrows his brows, considering your sentence, yet his thumb still absentmindedly strokes your soft skin. He huffs after a time.

“We ain’t gotta tell ‘em. They’ll figure it out eventually anyway–let’s just enjoy bein’ us. Press’ll be stupid too.” He sighs out, not having considered the issues you two may face now, status and all. How annoying. He squeezes on your hands to convey his love.

You sigh. “God, so true. I didn’t think of that either.” You muse, smiling at the snowflakes collecting in Katsuki’s ashy hair and lashes while he stares at you. It can only ever be described as a stare, the intensity too much to be considered anything less. You slip your hands from his momentarily, and he frowns at the loss of you. He looks up and realizes you’re unlocking his door and sighing at the warmth that greets the two of you upon entering. Once the door swings shut, your hands find him again, though now you face him, and you dare to let your touch wander up his forearms and biceps before falling back down and reaching back up again. He enjoys the feeling, the soothing comfort of your strokes nearly causing him to sigh. He just hangs his arms around your waist instead, appreciating your beauty without fear now.

“S’ppose we’ll keep this ‘er lil secret then.” He drawls, gently pulling your body until it stops against his. You can feel his warm caramel-scented breath waft over your face, the heat in his eyes causing your own to rush to your cheeks. He smirks at that, cherishing every moment he can fluster you since it’s so typically the other way around.

You nod, unashamedly looking down at his lips. He doesn’t hide the sultry way in which he coats them, before letting them stretch into another, wider, predatory smirk. He forces your eyes back up to his with his two fingers under your chin.

“Sound good?” He asks with an arched brow. You nod again. He chuckles, one so deep it reverberates through his buff chest. He’s entertained, you’re absolutely falling apart just from standing so close to him now that all his feelings for you were confirmed. “Use your words and I’ll give ya a kiss.”

You force yourself to swallow, and then clear your throat, feeling frozen in place. He looks at you like you were the only person he could see. He looks at you with such insatiable desire, you’re rendered speechless just from a few touches and his carmine eyes dancing over your body. “Yeah–our secret.” You manage.

He nods his approval, sliding his hand to cup your cheek instead. His hand is so big his fingers reach over your jaw and into your soft, vanilla scented hair. He almost loses his confidence, your scent and the way you bat your eyelashes hitting him all at once. You always smell so sweet, even though you were actually spicy. He thought it fit you. You stand on your tiptoes to prompt him, your hands landing on his toned pecs. It brings him back to the present, and his heart actually flutters at what he was about to do. He swallows any nervousness and leans down, licking his lips a final time before he slots them over yours. You jolt him awake, the cool touch of your mouth sends warmth tingling through him, and you’re not doing much better. You feel like you’re melting as he pulls you closer desperately, unable to get enough of you.

And maybe, just maybe, that night ended with him becoming very acquainted with that beautiful body you proudly display today, at the beach, with all his friends, who still don’t know that you’re together.

That’s why he’s so impossibly frustrated, keeping his head turned and pretending to be entranced by the ocean waves. His friends are stupid, but they aren’t dumb. They’ve known for the longest that Katsuki’s head over heels for you, but upon your promise, they tried to give him less shit about it.

But Denki just can’t hold back this time. To think that he can’t see Katuski’s “sunburn”, the noticeable way he’ll look anywhere but you, and his overly sensitive nerves today is an insult to Chargebolt. He scoffs loudly.

“Hey Bakugou, you allergic to sexy?”

The blond’s head snaps to him and his eyes narrow in confusion. “What?!”

Denki chuckles smoothly. “You won’t even look at Y/N–and she is definitely sexy. That bikini is working overtime–”

“Say one more word about her.” He dares, sparks collecting in the palms of his hands. At the crackling sound, Kirishima decides it’s time to intervene. He holds his arms out like someone approaching a wild horse to saddle.

“Woah, woah–easy bro!” He chuckles nervously, but it gets Katsuki’s attention, at least enough that the threat of violence dies down. “I think what Denki’s trying to say is, normally you and Y/N are side-by-side. Is everything alright?”

Great. There was no way to win. If he looked at you, he’d surely pop a raging boner and that would confirm everything they’ve ever thought about him and his thoughts about you, but not looking at you resulted in their suspicion anyway. He huffs through his nose and scowls.

“Yeah? Just tryin’ not to be a perv like you two fuckers. Stop lookin’ at her–”

“Right. Okay.” Sero rolls his eyes at the longtime friend. “You know none of us give a fuck if you guys want to get together, right? In fact, we’re literally praying for it so you stop being so goddamn intolerable.”

“So you admit you have to fight looking?” Denki snickers. Katsuki eyes the two with the wrath of hell.

Kirishima gives him a defusing glare, sighing at his hot-tempered buddy. “I second Sero, but either way, we want you to have some fun, man. We know you can’t be having a good time sitting in the sand like this. Come play some volleyball with us!” He insists, dragging Katsuki to his feet.

Bakugo wrenches his way free of him, but follows nonetheless, scowling even deeper when Mina calls out, “Three on three! I want Bakugou and Denki!” She giggles, leaving you to team up across from him with Kirishima and Sero. He convinces himself that beating your ass in volleyball should keep your friends off your scent.

All goes well, for a while. That is until the rotation puts him directly across from you.

Denki was right. You are so sexy. And that bikini…how could you set him up like this? The fabric clings to your hips, disappearing into the folds of your dimpled and sand-covered ass. God, he shoulda never let you out of the house. His eyes finally move up toward your bust, almost laughably stuffed into your top. It’s so unfair. You’re ridiculously stunning, and he can’t help but think you did this on purpose. He can feel his blood rushing all at once, and he knows he must be staring hard. Before he can comprehend anything else, you’re running towards the net, beautiful body glistening in the sun, your sea-textured hair swaying in time with your chest as you jump and smack the ball right in his face.

Kirishima can’t stifle his laugh, and Denki nearly collapses in laughter beside the explosive man. Mina just puts her hands on her hips, trying to hide her knowing smirk.

Katsuki is prideful, arrogant, brash, unforgiving, loud, and hateful. You made sure to love and accept those qualities to an extent, and help him grow out of them in some others. One thing you’ll never be able to change is his competitive spirit–and you just took a cheap shot in his rulebook.

“That was a low blow. It doesn’t count!” He groans, swiping some of the kicked up sand from his tanned abs. He goes to pick up the ball when Sero challenges.

“How so? She just spiked it. That’s legal.”

And to his dismay, you play right into it. “Yeah, why’s it a low blow, Suki?”

Goddamn you. Batting your lashes and all. You’re challenging him too, daring him to keep lying or to come clean to all his friends. He snorts at you, clearly you underestimate who you’re dealing with. He’ll fuck you on the beach if you wanna push buttons–but he decides he’ll take a more moderate approach only because he doesn’t want anyone else to see you naked. You can’t back him into a corner without doing the same to yourself, so he just juts his chin at you.

“Because you wore that bikini just to piss me off ‘n make me tell our friends yer mine.” He growls, arching a brow and folding his arms over his chest. The friends in question are unusually quiet and deathly still, exchanging knowing and relieved looks.

You shrug, blushing a bit. He caught you, but it worked anyway. Only because he allowed it, but still. You hum your acknowledgement and motion for the ball back.

“You got me, baby. That counts as a point though. Ball’s mine.” You wink, that smug grin of yours enough to make his heart pound like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. You’re most definitely somethin’ else, but he loves you to pieces, and he feels a lot better about being able to be just as pervy out loud as he wants to be.

He slings the ball back over the net, mirroring your smirk. Once again, he’ll never let you best him. His eyes shine with mischief as he winks and says for your embarrassment, “Oh yer still goin’ down, sugartits.”

#kyleewritesmha #last piece before kinktober works omg #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou drabble #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #mha x you

536 notes · View notes

m0llygunn · 10 months

Text

Apologies and Promises (eddie munson x fem!reader)

Part 3 to Same Old Song and Dance 01 / 02 Summary: Hurt feelings hidden under the shallow guise of anger and indifference, in an inebriated state there’s no choice but to face the layers of truth.

Tropes: enemies to lovers (kind of), mean stubborn idiots in love, honestly idk at this point. Warnings: 18+! mature language, ‘bullying’, forcible wrist holding, pet names (princess, sweetheart, angel, baby), mentions of oral (m receiving), angst, alcohol consumption, vomit mention. Author’s note: I am resisting the urge to over explain why theres no smut and this chapter was needed to progress feelings (i know smut is a selling point IM SORRY... but soon i swear it'll be back). wc: 7.2k+

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73 @ropickle @suethh @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @emma77645 @yujyujj

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You didn’t wait around for him to show but you also didn’t expect to have to wait around for him to show.

You’re not disappointed. Why should you be? You didn’t want him to pick you up anyways.

If anything, you’re pissed.

He relentlessly badgered you last night about it. Wouldn’t leave until you agreed to let him drive you to school. He was so insistent, that he nearly slept on your floor using that stupid notebook as a pillow.

You’re not disappointed.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Want me to knock him out?” Steve offers and you can’t help but laugh.

Steve was dropping off his coworker-turned-best friend, Robin, when you were walking into school. He’s a close family friend— and Nancy’s on-again-off-again boyfriend, so you happily stopped for a chat.

“Steve. I hate to break it to you but Munson’s a veteran school fighter. He might not win every fight but he’s definitely been in more fights than you.” You say, patting Steve on the cheek as he comically deflates before you.

“Hey! I won the last fight I was in and I’ve been working on my biceps, can’t you tell?” He says, flexing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, watching Steve flex his unnoticeably larger arms until he rounds up his antics and leans back against his car. “Your dad at that work conference thing too?” You ask, curiously wondering if it really is a work trip your dad’s on right now.

“Absolutely. Any chance to get away, right?” Steve says with a somber laugh.

“I know the feeling...any chance.” You reply, nodding your head in agreement.

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “Might throw a party, might not.” He says indifferently. You perk up at the idea of a party. It’s always the same crowds that show, you know the list of attendees like the back of your hand.

“You should, I can get Nance to come along, maybe you can rekindle.” You say, hitting Steve’s arm. This could be to his benefit too, Nancy has been bringing him up again recently and that’s always the catalyst to the ‘on again’ portion of their relationship.

“You got some kind of insight?” Steve replies, eyes studying you.

You purse your lips, choosing your words wisely. “Can't say. Bad enough I already told you my business, can’t tell you her business too, Stevie.”

Steve smiles, shaking his head, accepting your answer because he knows that’s as close as he’ll get to you spilling Nancy's secrets.

He knows all about your rivalry with Munson, and as much as he doesn’t like the guy, he was actually the first one who suggested sleeping with him quite some time ago. It was a joke of course… yet here you are. You figured he deserved to know that he was some sort of prophet, so you filled him in. Not in as much detail as you did with Nancy, but you told him the gist of it.

Your conversation with Steve simmers to a lull, both of you watching over the crowd of students funnelling from the parking lot into the school. You’re not explicitly looking for it, but you can’t help but notice the lack of a certain obnoxiously loud van.

“You’re good, right?” Steve asks, shoulder bumping your own.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“You sure?” He asks again, turning towards you enough to gauge your reaction. You shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe a little embarrassed.” You say, shifting back and forth on your feet, eyes still flickering over the bustling parking lot.

“Don’t be. Fuck him.” He says making you snort a laugh.

“Fuck him?” You question, smirk playing on your lips.

“No! I mean, unless you want to. But he did stand you up so…” Steve says trailing off. You try to laugh it off but it sounds more like a scoff.

“Yup. Eddie Munson stood me up.” You say, words rolling off your tongue in a confusing cross between regret and hurt even when you meant for it to be a joke. A laughable comment between two friends who know how you and Eddie interact, who know he’s nothing more than a nuisance to you, nothing more than an incessant house fly that just won’t quit circling you.

You never thought you’d be saying that in this lifetime. You never thought he’d have the opportunity to stand you up.

You tell yourself you’re not disappointed, but the words sure do taste like it.

You shrug your shoulders, shaking off your thoughts. “I should go, bell’s about to ring.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was during your second period math quiz. A timid, curly headed freshman knocked on the door interrupting the silence of the room.

Mrs. Rotman stood from her desk, crossing the room, engaging in a whispered conversation with the boy. She turned to look around the room, eyes flitting over the students before landing on you. She turned back to the boy, whispered something to him and sent him on his way.

You tried to pretend you were busy doing your quiz but it was hard with her eyes focused on you as she walked in your direction.

“Honey, your fathers in the office for you. Something about a family emergency. Don’t worry about the quiz, sweetie.” She whispered, leaning down to your level with sullen eyes that made your heart rate pick up.

“Family emergency?” You questioned anxiously.

“Yes dear, go on and head down to the office.” She said, patting your back.

Leaving behind your quiz that you barely had a chance to start on, you quietly let yourself out of the class.

Speed walking down the hall, opening the door to the stairwell with enough force for the sound to echo against the cement walls and linoleum floors, you hurry to descend the stairs. With your mind busy, rifling through what potential family emergency would bring your father back to town, you didn’t even notice him standing by the stairwell exit until you stepped down onto the landing.

There’s a moment before he looks at you. A moment where your heart beats faster. A moment where you’re flooded with scary feelings. A moment were you remember last night. And a moment were you remember this morning.

“Oh for god's sake.” You groan, leaving that moment behind, churning everything into a genuine annoyance because you fell for such a stupid trick.

“Princess, funny seeing you here. Daddy’s been waiting.” Eddie says, smirk plastered on his face, waiting with his back against the wall, trying to exude some sort of coolness that he doesn’t possess.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You spit, burning hot from the inside out. Eddie deflates in front of you, smirk dropping as he steps away from the wall towards you.

“No?” He says, almost like he’s asking you.

“Why the fuck would you think this was okay?” You sneer, voice raising in volume. He shrinks further.

“Just wanted to see you.” He shrugs, eyes falling to the ground.

If he 'wanted to see you', he wouldn’t have stood you up.

“You wanted to see me?” You scoff bewilderedly.

“Yeah, and apologize for this morning.” He says, eyes flickering up to you.

You spin on your heels, ready to explain the situation to Mrs. Rotman and go back to finishing your quiz. You don't want to hear an apology for that.

“Shit— Princess, come back!” He calls after you. You hear feet clambering, catching up to you just as you clear the first set of stairs. His grasp captures your wrist and you get the eeriest sense of deja vu.

“Princess, c’mon, let me apologize.” He says, voice pleading as you try to tug yourself free.

“No. You can apologize to Mrs. Rotman’s math class for interrupting everyone during the quiz.” You huff, using all your weight to try and free yourself.

“No, let me apologize to you.” He insists. You feel your heart rate pick up and in an instant you spin, startling Eddie with your fast movement.

“Do you think this is funny, Eddie?” You spit, brows furrowed, face flushing hot in anger.

With his mouth pulled in a flat line, he shrugs.

You know he's hardly phased by your spitfire and you step closer to up the ante.

“No, seriously? Are you having fun, Eddie? Answer the question.” You say, burning your gaze into his.

He doesn't indulge you in an answer, he just looks at you with round eyes. He doesn't cower, he doesn’t spit heated words back, he just remains looking at you with his stupidly big eyes. You're not even sure if his disposition is meant to soothe you, but it does and you hate it. It irons out nearly every wrinkle of anger and you hate it.

“I know none of this matters to you, Eddie, but it matters to me.” You say, mustering up every blazing emotion you have left in you but it comes out too gentle to be anger.

“What matters to you?” He asks quietly, his face softening, eyes getting impossibly rounder. His grip on your wrist loosens as he steps closer to you.

You press your lips closed, breathing deeply to compose yourself. Your sentiment is ambiguous, you recognize that. Whether is was purposeful or not is a mystery to even you. You wouldn't admit this matters, whatever this is between you and Eddie, never. You couldn't.

Even if you didn't leave space for ambiguity, you know what he's asking right now. Does he matter to you, does this matter to you?

“School, idiot.” You say quietly. You cover ambiguity by shutting him down and embellishing it with an insult. It's a lie, you both know it. It’s an orchestrated move at this point; he steps right, you step left.

He moves in closer to you, toe to toe, his chest less than arm's length away. His grip on your wrist slides down, stopping just before your palm, inches away from being a hand hold.

“You're only upset because I took you away from your quiz?” He asks quietly, amusement hinting in his tone. His eyes flicker to your lips.

“Yes.” You reply flatly. You lick your lips instinctively and you mentally scold yourself.

“No, you're not.” He laughs softly, eyes only watching your lips now. “You're really that desperate to finish a math quiz?” He asks, amusement becoming forthright.

He does think this is funny and it makes your blood boil.

“Stop doing that.” You sneer but it comes out weak.

“Stop doing what?” He asks, eyes still unmeeting of yours.

His overconfidence and arrogance buzzes around in your head, spurring on your anger. You feel cornered by him calling your bluff and nothing good has ever come from that, especially when your heart is beating so fast you can't hear your own thoughts.

“Assuming you know me, Eddie. You don’t.” You snap, hammering your words into him like nails in a coffin, punctuating your words with a tug of your wrist but his grasp hardens, not letting you go.

He finally looks up at you, eyes meeting your gaze and you can tell your words stung by the mirrored reflection of hurt. He looks taken aback. Whatever he thought was about to happen, you pulled it out from under him like a mean trick and hurt switches to anger.

“So you’re really only upset because you’re here?” He scoffs, brows pinching.

“I just fucking said that.” You spit back.

“And you’re not at all upset because I didn’t pick you up this morning?” And that's all he has to say to send you into a flighty panic. You won't look truth in the eye, you can't.

“Eddie. Let go.” You seethe, tugging your wrist harshly. You bring your other hand to his in an attempt to pry his fingers off. His grip isn’t enough to hurt you, it’s simply unrelenting, a desperate attempt to finish this conversation.

"Princess—" He starts but you interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to give him another opportunity to throw your own feelings in your face.

"Let go." You say, your volume raising out of desperation.

“Fine. Just fucking relax for a minute, Jesus Christ.” He groans, when you start swatting at his forearm. His own annoyance rises and it pisses you off because what does he have to be annoyed about? He’s not the one that got stood up.

“I am relaxed!” You shriek, squeezing your eyes shut and stamping your foot.

Eyes still closed, you listen to your own voice echoing off the walls, forcing you to hear yourself. It sounds like a reverb of hurt between the two of you. Despite the meaningless message your words attempt to convey, it sounds like a slip of honesty, a slip of your true feelings and how he’s affected them. It sounds tears short of being an angered cry.

A beat passes before the echoes subside, leaving the two of you in silence.

“Princess.” Eddie whispers softly. His voice isn’t loud like yours, it doesn’t vibrate off the walls but it still echoes in your consciousness, occupying a space hugged tightly next to your heartbeat.

You feel fingertips ghost over your cheeks, delicate in nature despite residing in the antagonistic warland that you and Eddie have fostered together. Your heart catches in your throat and you hate it.

Your face pinches in its default anger. You ready yourself to scold him, but when you open your eyes and all you see is soft, warm brown staring back at you, it doesn’t come. You hate it.

He closes his grasps on your face, both hands holding you gently by the jaw. Both hands.

Your wrist set free, you pull away, storming back down the stairs. He steps forward, you run away— another orchestrated move.

Hearing yourself is too much, you need air. You need somewhere where your own thoughts can't reverb like your words against cement and linoleum. You need something to get you thinking straight.

Scuffing sneakers echo behind you as you clear the staircase, cross the foyer, and push open the door to the parking lot. You expect a hand around your wrist again but it doesn’t come.

You slow to a walk and so does he, his steps crunching on the pebble covered pavement as he trails behind you quietly.

You round the corner of the building before leaning against the wall, expectant hand held out towards Eddie.

He tentatively raises his arm, fingers grazing yours, palm just barely ghosting your own, before you smack him away.

“No you idiot, cigarette.” You say, exhaling deeply.

He mumbles an embarrassed apology before digging through his pocket.

“Here.” He says quietly, passing over his carton of camels.

You pull one out, placing it between your lips, Eddie’s eyes watching your every move. Flickering the lighter that was tucked into the empty space of the box, you light it up, smoke pluming from the corners of your lips as you take your first drag. Eddie swallows harshly, lost in thought.

“Well?” You snap, his eyes fleeting back to yours.

“R-right. I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up this morning, princess. I’m really really sorry.” He says softly, strumming the chords of your heart with his words. You hate it.

“Why should you be sorry about that, I didn’t want you to anyways.” You say, trying to sound indifferent. You don’t though. You hear your own voice just like you did in the stairwell and you sound like a little kid who hasn’t quite mastered the art of fibbing. It’s a jejune lie, not even a good one.

“I said I would though, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He says, round eyes set on you.

The sun glimmers against his hair making the wavy brown strands look golden, a perfect match to the gold in the eyes staring at you right now.

He’s genuinely sorry, you believe him, and you hate it.

Continuing on your juvenile streak, you pocket his lighter before handing back his carton. You know he sees you do it but he doesn’t say anything.

“Whatever, Eddie.” You mumble, taking a drag from your cigarette.

You let your head fall against the brick behind you, eyes scanning thoughtlessly over the surrounding thick tree line. Eddie takes a step, his shoulder hitting the wall as he leans against it, still facing you.

“Don't you wanna know where I was?” He asks carefully, a testing tease lingering around his words.

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest, your burning cigarette skillfully held out to not get ash on yourself. Eddie exhales a light laugh before leaning into you.

“Well, princess.” He starts, leaning in even closer. “I accidentally slept in because I was too busy staying up all night thinking about this girl who gave me the best head of my life.”

“Gross.” You scoff, hiding your smile by taking another drag.

“Fuck yeah. It was certified sloppy toppy. I think I was reborn yesterday, died and got as close to heaven as I ever will.” He says, body twisting so his head knocks against the brick wall dramatically.

“Now you're just sucking up.” You grimace, taking another drag.

He laughs softly before the both of you fall into a quiet lull. You partially expected him to make some kind of joke out of ‘sucking up’ but he doesn’t. Only the sound of trees blowing in the wind can be heard, along with scattered chirps of birds in the distance.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, breaking the silence. You let your eyes flicker to him before focusing back on your barely burnt cigarette. You drop it, stomping it out under your shoe. It was a waste of a cigarette, but Eddie doesn’t say anything.

“I wasn’t mad at you.” You reply, facing towards the tree line again.

“Okay, princess.” He sings, clearly not believing you. “But everything aside… we’re good?” He asks, watching you carefully.

“Eddie.” You exhale. That’s a big thing for him to ask of you and he doesn’t even realize it. How can you say that everything between the two of you is good when… What even is there between the two of you? Are you even friends? It's another truth you're not willing to face.

“Princess, tell me we’re okay or else you’ll keep me up another night.” He says, slouching his shoulders.

“You’re being dramatic.” You laugh. He steps closer to you, hand raising and grasping a piece of your hair. You watch in your periphery as he swirls it between his fingers.

“I’ll never get another wink of sleep, I’m begging you. Tell me we’re okay or tell me how to fix it.” He says, tiptoeing even closer to you.

“Eddie.” You laugh again, shaking your head. The hair between his fingers falls but he’s quick to reach for the strands that fell into your face, skillfully tucking it behind your ear.

“All I’m asking for is your forgiveness. What d’you say, angel?” He whispers. You turn your head, looking at him skeptically with raised brows.

“Angel? I think that’s hardly a fitting name.” You scoff.

“Trust me, it’s fitting. After last night.” He says, hand retreating from you to grab his heart dramatically, throwing his body back against the brick wall in a swoon.

“Suck up.” You say trying to hide your amusement. You watch him as he continues his antics, biting your lip to hide your smile.

He turns to you, looking up through his lashes, feigning a faux innocence.

“So what d’ya say, princess?" He questions, quirking a brow at you. "Want me to kiss it better?” He asks with a deep grin, eyes amusedly awaiting your response.

You pause, not necessarily thinking about his offer but more so distracted by the way the sun reflects off of his eyes making them glow golden again.

He takes your pause as a yes, stepping into you, hands grabbing behind your ears, cradling your neck. He presses sloppy kisses all over your cheeks and up to your forehead, all while you protest through giggles. It’s sickeningly sweet. Truly sickening. You hate it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Why’d you ask my friends where I was yesterday, princess? Are you, like, obsessed with me?” Eddie mocks into your ear startling you.

“Oh no.” You groan to yourself, flashing Nancy a preemptive apologetic look.

“Princess, d’ya happen to have a lighter? Mine seems to have gone missing.” He says, moving on from his original remark, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“No, sorry. I don’t smoke, it’s a dirty habit.” You say flatly, keeping your focus on your lunch and Nancy sitting across from you.

“Oh, that’s crazy I could have sworn I saw you hanging out in the back of the school with some guy smoking earlier? I must have been mistaken.” He says, arm wrapping around your shoulder as he throws one leg over the cafeteria bench, straddling it.

“We weren’t ‘hanging out’.” You scoff.

“Right, right. I was groveling, my bad, princess.” He laughs.

You look up at Nancy and she’s shaking her head, lips pursed tightly, holding back her ‘I-told-you-so’ smile. Eddie doesn't typically bother you at lunch, so to Nancy, this very much looks like him 'getting worse'.

“Eddie, don't you have somewhere else to sit?” You say, shrugging his arm off your shoulder.

“What? Can’t come have lunch with my girl?” He teases, scooting closer to you, his knee pushing against your thigh, your shoulder practically resting against his chest.

“I just barely forgot about the stunt you pulled earlier, you’re pushing your luck, Munson.” You warn.

“Don’t call me that.” He says flatly.

“Munson? That’s your name, isn’t it?” You laugh.

“Nope, not to you it isn’t.” He replies flatly, grabbing a grape off your lunch tray before you can stop him.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” You say, his arrogance pinching at your agitation.

“Lighter.” He sings, eyes sparkling with amusement meeting yours, stealing another grape in the process. Turning his head, he focuses on Nancy. “Wheeler, how’s it going?”

“Good.” She laughs, still shaking her head.

“Heard you tattled on me to Princess.” He says, eyebrows raised, a smile playing on his face.

“Eddie, leave her alone.” You huff. You feel his hand raise up your back, settling slowly, before rubbing back and forth. He leans in closer to you, face brushing against your hair.

“Gotta share the attention sometimes, princess.” He whispers just loud enough for you to hear. His breath tickles the shell of your ear and you feel your heart rate pick up.

You sit up straighter, Eddie’s chin knocking into your shoulder as you reach into your front pants pocket.

“Lighter. There. Leave.” You say, finding his free hand to push it into his hold.

“Good girl.” He teases, quickly pulling you closer to him with a hand on your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You feel yourself burning hot and it takes everything in you not to hit him back with some sort of insult but you know if you do he’ll just stick around for longer.

He gets up from the bench with a coy wave of his fingers and a polite nod to Nancy, disappearing into the crowd of the lunch room.

“Nancy, if you say ‘I told you so’, I swear to god.” You say, holding back your smile as you watch your friend’s eyes burst with amusement.

“I wasn’t going to say I told you so!” She laughs.

“I can see it in your eyes Nancy, I know you’re dying to say it.” You reply.

“I won’t say it… but I will say that you’re blushing pretty hard right now.”

“Out of embarrassment! That was embarrassing, Nancy.”

“People aren’t usually that smiley after being embarrassed.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie kept his eyes on the prize all night. Not in a creepy way, just to make sure you were okay… and because he just liked looking at you. You were making it awfully hard though, the way you kept disappearing between the groups of people occupying Harrington’s infamous Saturday night party.

His goal was to sell what he needed to sell, then he could have his fun. So when he sold his last eighth, his heart rate picked up as he bounded through the waves of people to find you.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t get a pang of nerves when he finally found you, all alone in the kitchen, getting yourself a drink.

Steve decided late Friday night that the party was on. He called you up and from there you called Nancy. It’s a practiced drill at this point, Steve calls a few people, who call a few more people, and the word gets around pretty quickly. Eddie got news that night, and it was a given he would sell. He always sells at Harrington parties, similar to how you’re always drinking at them.

“All your friends scurry off on you, Princess?” An all too familiar voice says right into your ear.

“No.” You say flatly, turning to see Eddie at your side.

“That’s funny, I only see you.” He says, eyes teasingly looking around you before settling back to meet your gaze.

“You should get your eyes checked, there’s like 20 other people in here.” You say, motioning to all the other bodies occupying the room.

“You know what I mean.” Eddie says, hip bumping yours gently as you pour from a bottle of something highly alcoholic into your cup.

“Do I?” You laugh before quickly shooting back your drink.

“Look at her, she’s a professional.” Eddie teases as you scrunch your face through the burning sensation in your throat, some of the liquid spilling down the corners of your lips from your overzealous tilt of the cup. Without as much as a second though, Eddie’s hand raises to you, wiping your chin dry.

“Why are you so nice now?” You ask, leaning closer to him so he can hear you over the music.

“I’m not.” He smiles, eyes leaving yours to watch as you set the empty cup down on the counter. He knows he’s lying, you both do.

“Is it because I sucked your dick?” You giggle.

You take another step closer to him where he leans against the counter. His eyes meet yours again with a mixture of amusement and shock looming on the surface of his gaze.

“You’re more drunk than you look, princess” He holds your gaze, amusement taking the reigns until his eyes lower to the short distance you’ve created between the two of you.

“I’m not drunk.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. Eddie watches you, you can tell he’s smiling and you’re not even looking at him.

“Where’s Wheeler gone? You were with her all night.” He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head, meeting his gaze, lifting your eyebrows as you decipher his question.

“You were watching me all night?” You ask teasingly, a smile playing on your lips.

“Princess.” He exhales, rolling his own eyes jokingly. The way his little nickname for you rolls off his tongue makes your already dizzy head spin.

“She went upstairs with Steve.” You answer, letting your hand rest on the counter, pinky brushing the material of his jeans where he leans against the marble countertop.

“I hope she’s not as drunk as you are.” He replies, eyes on your fingers as you continue to brush them against him. You shake your head. You could tell him that their rendezvous was premeditated, and a recurring pattern between the two, but you don’t want to talk about them.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest? First you took care of me when I was sick, now you’re looking out for my friends. Such a sweet boy.” You coo, leaning into Eddie, removing your hand from the countertop and placing it flat on his chest to stabilize yourself.

“Baby, I think you're too drunk, look at you being sweet.” He laughs and you dip your head, hiding the way his words affect you. You’re always ‘princess’, never ‘baby’. It makes your heart beat faster and your skin prickle.

You can’t help but notice how he doesn’t touch you though. He’s always poking and prodding at you in one way or another. Last time you saw him, he was all hands and kisses to your cheeks, but now, nothing.

“Did you make a lot of money tonight?” You ask, stepping in closer to him, your thigh pressing into his as you stand beside him.

“I did good enough.” He shrugs, arms staying closely to his sides and it almost makes you want to pout. He should be grabbing your hand or twirling your hair, doing what he always does.

“You were busy all night.” You mumble, your head down, watching as you kick at his shoe before stepping over it with one foot. Still leaning against the counter, he shifts, arms moving at his side and you almost get excited before you realize he's just crossing them over his chest. You lower your hand, sitting it closer to his hip as you move to stand directly in front of him.

“You were watching me all night?” He mocks, copying your same lilt.

“I set myself up for that one didn’t I?” You whisper, head down. He’s still not touching you.

“You did.” He replies, exhaling a laugh. You rest your other hand on his crossed arms, hoping he’ll get the hint but he doesn’t and you sigh, slouching into yourself.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He asks, quietly.

“You.” You reply flatly.

“Yeah, but you’re all pouty. You don’t pout. You scowl. Yell. Threaten violence.” He teases gently, dipping his face enough to meet your gaze.

“You’re not touching me.” You mumble, words so quiet you can barely hear them yourself over the blaring music.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, leaning his ear closer to you. You step in closer to him, pushing your way between his legs.

“I said, you’re not touching me.” You grumble, annoyed that you have to repeat yourself. Even more annoyed when he hears you and still doesn’t touch you. You huff, pushing your body flat against his, but he stops you, hands on your shoulders holding you away from him.

“Princess, I can’t. You’re drunk.” He says firmly, serious eyes meeting yours. Your knee shakes as you try to stop yourself from stomping your foot.

“You can. You just want to piss me off.” You say, funnelling all of your emotions and forcing them into a short lived anger.

“Trust me, that’s not why.” He says softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your shoulders. You happily focus on his simple caresses on your bare skin, but the feeling it gives you just leaves you wanting more.

“You're touching me right now, Eddie. Just keep doing that.” You whine, giving him your best pout paired with doe-eyes. His gaze soften, eyes fluttering over your features.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He says, flashing you a small smile.

“You like it though, that’s why you keep coming back.” You whisper. Eddie’s mouth pulls in a flat line and you think you might have said something wrong. His grip on your shoulders falls and you’re sure you did.

You’re sure you did until you feel his hands meet your waist, pulling you towards him. Your hands slip up his chest and around his neck and you hug yourself to him tightly. You absorb every ounce of him you can, every inebriated sense of yours captivated and buzzing with feelings and flutters. Even through the thump of the bass vibrating throughout the kitchen, you swear you hear his heart, or maybe it’s yours, either way it doesn’t matter because Eddie Munson is holding you just like you wanted him to.

“I was waiting for you to come find me.” You whisper into the skin peeking out of the collar of his shirt as you press your head to his shoulder.

In the bustling of the party, you stand chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other like this was the only way things were meant to be. He responds to you through the movement of his hands, rubbing up and down your back, touching you, just like you asked. Soothing you like you didn’t know he could.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Eddie, you’re not doing it right, you’re supposed to just come in. I’m not supposed to have to ask you.” You whine.

“Princess, I can’t.” He says, smiling as you try to tug him through the front door of your house.

“You can, you did it before, remember?” You say, giving him your best pout.

“You were sick.” He says, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he stands firmly outside, your tugs not making him budge in the slightest.

“I'm going to be sick right now, if you don’t come inside.” You whine, punctuating your words with little stomps of your feet.

You may have taken a few more shots after Eddie broke up your hug earlier. You knew you had him at that point so maybe you took them just to spite him. It made sense at the time and as the night progressed, you were right. He was by your side the whole time, never more than an arm's length away. And when it was time to go home, you didn’t even have to ask, he was already offering you a ride and guiding you to his van.

“Princess, you’re killing me.” He says exasperatedly through a smile before stepping into the doorway.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Jesus, just drink the water, princess.” Eddie laughs.

“I’ll do it if you lay down with me.” You say stubbornly. He shakes his head and you drop yourself down onto your pillow. “Please, Eddie. Please.” You plead, your eyes catching the dizzy image of him in the lowlight of your room.

“Drink the water and I’ll think about it.” He says sternly.

“Lay down and I’ll think about it.” You mock, copying his tone.

“You are so…” He laughs, trailing off.

“Good at giving blowjobs?” You giggle, filling in his sentiment. His gaze drops to the floor as he sits on the edge of your bed, shaking his head in disbelief of the moment.��

“I was gonna say ‘impossible’.” He corrects with a laugh.

You furrow your brows. In attempts to prove him wrong you sit up, taking the water from him and silently finish it small swallow by small swallow until your belly feels impossibly full of water.

“Done.” You huff, falling back to your pillow dramatically.

“Good.” He says, hand patting your calf that’s sprawled against the comforter next to him.

“No. Good girl.” You say, correcting him through giggles. He squeezes your calf, before sitting up enough to put the glass down on your bedside table.

“Good girl.” He says to appease you, smirk heavy in his features.

“Was I good enough for you to lay down?” You ask, flashing him innocent eyes. He exhales deeply and even in your spinning state, you know he’s weighing his options. His eyes track the span of the bed before looking back at you, seriousness written across his features.

“No funny business.” He says firmly, making sure to make eye contact so you know he’s serious.

“No funny business.” You agree, nodding your head waiting for him to give in.

“Only for a few minutes. Sober you wouldn’t want me here.” He says, removing his jacket and tossing it to the floor.

“Yes she would.” You mumble with a pout but quickly get excited when Eddie starts shuffling to lay down. You prop yourself up ready to cozy into him but he stops you.

“Nuh-uh. On your side of the bed, princess.” He says, motioning for you to lay back down. You throw yourself to the mattress with a whined cry.

“You’re no fun.” You huff, whine building in your chest.

“I’m not here to have fun, princess. This is serious business.” He laughs.

You continue pouting on your side of the bed, turning enough to watch as Eddie settles into your mattress. His hair sprawls over your pillow, just like before, his throat bobbing as he swallows before turning his head to you.

“Go to sleep.” He says and your jaw drops. His lips curl into a smile, eyes dancing in amusement.

“You’re mean, you couldn’t even say goodnight? Just go to sleep?” You shrill, trying to focus your gaze on Eddie to get your glare across.

“Go to sleep.” He repeats, smirking as he reaches his arm to your bedside table, switching the light off, leaving you both in the low glow of the moonlight that sweeps in through your half open curtains.

“Eddie, I can’t unless you say it nicely.” You argue.

“Princess. Please go to sleep.” He says with teasing lilt.

“No.” You giggle.

“I said it nicely, c’mon princess.” He groans.

“Eddie.” You whine, hearing the annoyance in his voice.

“Princess.” He mocks.

You scan your eyes over him, the low light helping you find where his hand lays at his side. Quietly, you tiptoe your fingers across the mattress until you brush against his hand. Before you can close your grasp, he rips it away with a tut.

“Eddie, I held your hand when you wanted me to.” You whine.

“That was different.” He replies.

“No it wasn’t! Just hold my hand.” You say, pushing yourself up to try and grab his hand where it lies on his stomach now.

“Lay back down.” He laughs pulling himself further away from you. You drop yourself to the bed, your bottom lip quivering. It’s not for dramatics though, you know Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it.

“No. I’m tired of doing this, I just want you to hold my hand.” You whisper back. Eddie says some kind of teasing response but you ignore it, feeling too lost in the spinning of your head.

In your current state, you feel a lot of things. Most importantly, you’re confused. These nights usually end with Nancy and Steve. Eddie's existence would have never even crossed your mind, but now, all you want is to be close to him. It doesn’t help that he’s been making you practically beg for his attention all night. It might seem sudden, but it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when you feel your eyes grow wet. Your breathing starts to come out in harsh whines from your stomach that get caught in your throat.

When the first tear falls it feels catastrophic. It feels destructive, disastrous even. It feels like a break in your guard and you aren’t quick enough to catch it. There’s no snark left in the world that could patch this up right now. So you hide.

Pushing your face into your pillow, your tears free fall.

You feel shifting on the bed and you push your face further into the pillow.

“Are you crying?” Eddie asks softly, sounding closer to you now.

You don’t offer a response, your throat feels too tight to speak. You feel like you’re drowning in more than just tears.

“Princess, don’t cry.” He replies gently, all teasing gone from his voice. “I’ll hold your hand, here.” He finds your hand, taking it in his but it’s too late. The floodgates are open, set on their path of destruction, open to exposing damage.

His hand wraps around yours and you feel small. Not because of the size difference but because there’s a reason you don’t show these feelings. There’s a reason it’s easier for you to scowl and yell. This side feels too bare, too soft, too uncomfortable. It’s unfamiliar and scary. It feels like offering yourself up to impending disappointment. It feels like waiting for someone to pick you up and they don’t.

He pulls your hair, you pull his back. He stands you up, what can you do besides pretend it didn’t hurt?

You should yell, you should scold, you should threaten violence. You should tear your hand away, kick him out.

But you don’t. You couldn’t, not anymore. Not right now.

You just want Eddie, all games aside. You want him in the silence of the night, not through the bass of the music where one of you has to move left while the other moves right. You don’t want to dance the line of whatever this is anymore.

You pull his hand, willing him to come closer, a silent plea through your tears, and he does. He shifts closer until you're pressed to him, your intertwined hands hugged between your chests as his other hand wraps around you, resting against your back. He soothes you with quiet promises of everything being okay intermixed with his own apologies that only make you cry harder.

Maybe you’re not the whole reason that you two have ended up here, but you’re half of it, and it takes two to play this game. If you tap out, you’re half of the way to it being over.

If you walk away and he follows, isn’t that just the game changing again? A game of cat and mouse?

Maybe all these metaphors are stupid. Maybe they’re all a figment of your imagination that blossomed as a child from the first time he pulled your hair. Maybe you’re too old for these playground antics. Maybe you’re too old to not say how you feel.

“I was sad when you didn’t come to pick me up.” You whisper, your sob-filled secret sailing into the darkness of the room as if his chest wasn’t there to catch your secret.

Your words are as much for you as they are for him, you couldn’t admit your hurt before, but now you do.

Truth tastes soft in your mouth, not at all like the burn of alcohol you’ve drowned yourself in. It’s not sweet, it doesn’t fix everything, it just creates a storm in your belly. A fight between everything you know, everything you’ve done, and something new. It’s unnatural, it makes you feel sick.

“I know, princess. I’m sorry.” He whispers in return, his hand rubbing against your back. You imagine with every pass of his hand on your back he’s helping you fight the furries of the storm rising inside of you, but with the storm rising, there is nowhere else for these feelings to go but up.

“I don’t want you to say sorry, I just don’t want you to do it again.” You cry.

Your throat constricts as you feel bile rising.

“I won’t. I promise, okay?” He says softly. His words would have eased every metaphorical storm inside you, but this storm has turned literal, you’re about to vomit.

“Eddie, I'm gonna be sick.”

It’s a rush of limbs and a dash down the hall. Everything pours from you, every uncried tear, every burn, every furry, every roar of the storm. Everything you know, everything you’ve done, it all leaves you. And in its wake all you have left is Eddie’s hand rubbing your back, telling you it’s okay. It’s soft and unnatural but you let it absorb you entirely. It burrows into you, finding a place you never knew existed, a place where softness thrives and doesn’t need to be hidden by the guise of anger and indifference.

Eddie brings you back to your bed and in the silence of the night, apologies and promises lay side by side, holding hands.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

582 notes · View notes

johnbleepingzoidberg · 1 year

Photo

UNTITLED EVIL LUIGI AU COMIC THING | Page 2 & 3 of (???)

Eggman Bowser’s come to make an announcement. Particularly to shut down any premonitions Mario may be holding onto a little too tightly. Bowser and Mario are able to set aside their differences (for now, at least) so that they can work together on a common goal-- figuring out where the hell Luigi is.

(A/N under cut)

---

believe me when i say i really wanted to link all the pages together in a neat, practical way so that everything would appear more organized than it actually is, but tumblr hates me and won’t let my posts show up in the tags if i include a hyperlink of any kind. :D

i read somewhere that tumblr only disallows posts from showing up in tags if it includes an external link (vs an internal/link to another tumblr page), which, in theory, shouldnt be an issue since the pages i’d be linking to are also on tumblr but regardless it’s not cooperating with me anyway. i’ve been on tumblr for what feels like a million years but this is the first time ive tried to make my posts cohesive like this so if anyone knows how to fix this issue im all ears 🙃 for the record, everything related to this au will be going into the following tags on my blog: #my art, and #evil luigi au. we’ll just have to sort things that way for now, i guess 😭

i start work tomorrow so can’t say when there will be a new page but i do have a lot planned out already. so hopefully i’ll be able to continue what ive started for at least a handful of more pages 🤠 next page will be fun to work on. for a bowuigi-centered story, where’s the luigi?! he’ll show up soon. just in the form of a flashback for now though 👀

also sorry if my handwriting is evil. it’s just personally easier/faster to write out everything by hand than type everything out but i may try to type the next page’s dialogue to see how it goes and to see if it makes things look ✨cleaner✨

(also also i spent so much time trying to figure out how to draw them doing a handshake for the “truce” panel. i ultimately failed. therefore.... fist bumps LMAO)

#bowuigi #bowser x luigi #bowser #mario #super mario bros #super mario movie #bowuigi comic #my art #mine #evil luigi au #remember how i said last time there will be absolutely no consistency to this in any sense of the word #these 2 pages really showcase that LOL #love how i go from drawing bowser with a full set of teeth to like. 3 #maybe i really should consider typing out the text thatd probably help #anyway i hope i can keep this going for a bit #i do plan on writing an original comic someday so this is good practice/is a good confidence booster for me #i love drawing bowser holding teeny ass cups. it is so funny to me. why #also working on trying to better distinguish this story from mr L's story #because when i started it i did not really know about the whole mr L thing LOL #so im hoping it doesnt seem like im trying to like.......rip off that whole concept #that would be sad :(

1K notes · View notes

teaforthotxxx · 2 months

Text

Im sorry guys. But, make the villains as babygirl as you want so that fans can sympathise with them. But, remember whose narrative you are writing. If the main perspective in ATLA is Gaang that were hunted and harassed by Princess Azula. If we are meant to look through the lens of the older brother she bullied throughout her life, these people are would not have seen her insecure moments. These people don’t view her as a fourteen year old cog in a greater evil. In their head, she is evil personified (especially from Katara’s POV).

We, the audience, see her more vulnerable side in brief moments from her POV (which only occurs after Zuko’s POV somewhat merges with the Gaang) and in small moments from TyLee’s PoV. Even in the Ember Island episode, Azula’s vulnerability is never shown from her POV because plot twist guys AZULA DOESN’T see herself as insecure. In her own narrative, she is the monster, she is the villain. She is a fourteen year old with an over-inflated ego. She isn’t afraid of disappointing her dad or being the least favourite because SHE WAS BUILT UP BY OZAI INTO DELUSION.

She is beautiful. She is flawless. She is intelligent. She is powerful. She is THE true Fire Lord! That’s how she views herself. This ideal never crumbles- not even when she is cracks and her friends leave her. And, that is what Ozai did to her. Ozai (this abstract force in ATLA) hurt her by feeding into her delusion and manipulating her into a tool.

All of this could not have been shown if ATLA had been told through Azula’s POV. IMO the Netflix writers demystified a lot of plot lines (ie giving Ozai a face, introducing Azula too early, emphasising Kiyoshi). This takes away from the wonder of slowly introducing audiences into the ATLA world.

This brings me back to narratives. Katara is the best narrator because to some degree, she was isolated from the rest of the world since she was young. Through her lens, the ATLA world outside of the Southern water tribe is coloured in wonder.

If the series had been told through Aang’s POV (Aang who had already travelled the world), the world after the war would have become very small and dismal (we see this when he discovers the air temple grave yard). Furthermore, Zuko’s POV while still isolated serves to remind us of the horrors of war. He shows us a more adult-world but it is always tainted by anger and hate. He cannot be the main narrator (he is only a supplemental narrator) because it would make the show too dark and sucks out the fun.

The NATLA missed the most basics of narrative storytelling of ATLA. And, thats so sad because I feel like the actors put their all into their roles. Katara’s actress is so Katara-coded irl but the show did her so dirty.

P.s. if you want more ATLA content, please read the comics or the book, the OG cartoon was fine. We don’t need Carbon Copy nostalgia bait.

#writeblr #atla #natla #netflix avatar #avatar the last airbender #katara #aang #sokka #zuko #azula

83 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 3 months

Note

How about Steve and bug talking about what they think their future is gonna be like? When he comes and visits her at work and they just talk about random stuff. He just says something off handedly like " I hope my kids read like you do, I want them to be booksmart like you." " Do you wanna have kids?"

" oh yeah definitely I want six."

"Six?! I could probably only handle three, if my kids are anything like me they'll be leash kids I'm serious."

And it's just sweet, them talking about how they hope their life to be, not knowing that they're each other's future.

oooo YES !!!

enjoy <3

"how many kids would you want? ya know, assuming you actually do want kids in the future."

steves question causes you to drop the change youd been counting at the register. "im sorry, what?"

"kids?" he sees your bewilderment and frowns. "what, youve never thought about your future?"

"i mean, sure? but i havent given any thought about kids. im sixteen, steve."

"and im seventeen and know for a fact that i want my kids to be booksmart like you." steve responds, not even paying that much attention to you as he busies himself with a comic.

you stare at him in shock. god, steve harrington really does just say the most bizarre things so casually. hes thought about his kids? and about how he wants them to be like you?

sometimes, you really hate that he does this. because then he just leaves you there, always standing in shock, as he goes about his day as if this is all normal.

you take a deep breath and shake your head, you have a job to do. dimes and nickels need to be attended to. "can i ask what sparked this insane thought?"

steve holds up the comic hes reading. "see, these i like. but those books about war and peace? no thanks. but... i dont know. guess theyd be good for my kids, seeing as they made you so smart."

you laugh. "im not the genius you think i am. i still think spider-man is real."

"youre like, the top of your class. shush."

"so sassy for a man who daydreams about having kids." you tease, but something shifts behind steves eyes.

"it is weird, isnt it?" he ducks his head down. "sorry."

well, now you feel bad. sighing, you drop the change in your hand and walk over to steve. sure, its a bit weird, but also incredibly sweet that he already seems to know how he'll raise his kids in the future.

you sit next to him and pluck the comic out of his hands. "so, tell me. how many kids we talking?"

a smile returns to steves face. "definitely, like, six."

"six?" you choke on your spit. "and who is birthing these six fucking children?"

a pause, then a frown. "hm. ya know, i never thought about that."

"bless you," you pat steves knee and he laughs. "i think id like three or so. maybe more, but definitely at least three. i love having a sibling, and i love taking care of dustin and his friends. ive already got years of experience."

"three? weak. do better, y/n." steve pokes your side.

you slap his hand away. "hey, i know im a handful. so is dustin. with my luck, my children will be little mini dustins and that... is a very scary thought."

"im an only child-"

"shocking!"

"anyways, its lonely. so im having as many kids as i possibly can. itd be fun, and id take them out to play baseball and go to parks and build forts and-"

"read them bedtime stories so they become booksmart?"

steve snaps his fingers and smiles. "exactly! you get me, y/n."

you giggle. "i try."

and for the last hour of your shift, you and steve debate the hypotheticals of your futures. steve remains adamant that he becomes a housewife, and you declare that if even one of your kids turns out like dustin, then youre sending them to live with him.

its a good day.

#ask #anon #come home blurb #m's writing #m speaks #set in between seasons 1 and 2 #i love u steve and bug

72 notes · View notes

reggiejworkshop · 2 months

Text

VHS 'Screenshots of ' Wakko's Springfield Score 3

"Come see the Warners and the Simpsons family as you've never seen them before! This Saturday on April 1! Only on Fox!" a proposed tagline. I honestly could have waited until it was actually April 1st, but I'll be out of town and away from a computer on that date.

These are more recovered, totally not fake, screenshots from a lost crossover special of Animaniacs and Simpsons made circa 1996. It was canceled mid production due to unknown production issues, and totally not by an artist who wanted to have another go at creating VHS screen captures again. No, it's not based on a crossover fanfic I still never got around to writing.

Okay, it is. Again. For the third time.

Since everyone seemed to like the last ones I did: More VHS 'Screenshots' Wakko's Springfield Score by ReggieJWorkshop on DeviantArt

I figured I'd do some more. I had honestly planned on doing more much sooner since I had gotten further along with writing the actual story. But I ended up catching writers block midway. I still plan on finishing it one of these days...

To recap from the last post, the story behind this would have been a AU crossover fic where Yakko and Wakko Warner are former street hustlers turned detectives who team up with Wiggum PI and Skinny Boy Skinner.

What followed would be a series of hijinks; Wakko's bumpy relationship with Krusty; an entertainer who is on the run after being framed for a serious crime, The Wanrer Brothers searching for their missing Warner sister, who happens to get tied with the Springfield Mafia, and a few other familiar faces appear.

As you can see, the story would be goofy as far as plot goes but definitely darker and dramatic as far as tone goes. Lots of action, mystery, and definitely some slapstick violence.

These shots along with the corresponding quotes ( from top left to bottom) give more insight into the TV special that was never meant to be. Or it will raise way more questions than answers.

Wiggum PI: "...Okay boys, how bout we make a quick pit stop at Moe's Tavern?"

Yakko: "Ooh I've always wanted know what a seedy bar is like! How about you treat us for helping you take on those mafia goons last night?"

Skinny Boy: "No way, Im not getting a mai tai for a minor!"

Dot: "Oh, Tony..."

Fat Tony: "I believe our new associate has already told you she hates being called Dottie"

Mobster:"Ididn'tsayDottie,IsaidDot! Dot! Dot! Dot!"

All three Warners: "Come on!"

Wakko: "Say the line!"

Wakko: "Sorry, old habits die hard. No hard feelings, Huh Krusty?

Blown up Comic Book Guy: "Worst crossover ever!"

Krusty: "I can't feel anything..."

#cartoon #deviantart #pen and ink #animaniacs #fanart #the simpsons #lost media #screenshot #vhs aesthetic #corssover #yakko wakko and dot #fat tony #krusty the clown #comic book guy #fake screenshot #did I fool you?#art

61 notes · View notes

pipipyuni · 1 year

Text

@evelinakostina asked: Hello, sorry to bother you, I hope this fits the criteria, you can write something about tsu'tey and the avatar girl, where tsu'tey is trying to take care of the reader, but she does not understand his hints because where she comes from is taken care of in a completely different way. Have a nice day

In Sickness and in Health

wc: 1941

gender: fem

cw(s): none! all fluff

pairing: tsu'tey x dreamwalker!reader

an: IM SORRY THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED YESTERDAY BUT I WAS FARMING THE LUNAR REVEL PASS ON LEAGUE WITH FRIENDS SAJDOJSA. anyway i think i deviated a little too much from the request, i'm sorry

content can be read below the cut!

You never knew that your avatar body could get sick.

It was a strange feeling, to say the least. One moment you’re fine, then the next you’re sweating bullets, head pounding as you lean on a tree to steady yourself. Neytiri–ever the dear–is by your side in an instant. Her fingers trace your lips, counting your rapid breaths before placing her palm flat against your forehead.

Clicking her tongue, she scoops you up, quickly weaving through the dense forest all the way back to the village. She tucks you closer to her chest as she nears the village, hiding you from the curious gazes of the people–Tsu’tey in particular.

He could deny it all he wanted, but she could see the way his ears flattened and his tail whipped around restlessly whenever you were in the vicinity, whether it was in your frail human form, or this one. By some grace of the Great Mother, you had yet to notice the usually spiteful warrior’s affection for you–or perhaps you have, she’s not one to pry.

“Sylwanin would not hate you for loving someone else, Tsu’tey.”

Neytiri recalls the look of shock that painted his face. From the comically dark indigo hue that covered his cheeks to the dilated pupils that swam with far too many emotions for her to pinpoint. It was quite funny to her, seeing someone as poised as Tsu’tey fumbling like a newborn ikran under the speculation of being in love. She would have never guessed he would do so for a dreamwalker; a sky demon.

The affection he holds for you is one she hasn’t seen from him in a long time, despite being betrothed to him not long after the death of her older sister.

Hence why she simply just can’t allow him to see you in such a vulnerable state. She just knows the prospect of losing yet another one of his loved ones would surely break down the walls Tsu’tey tries so hard to keep up.

Okay…perhaps she’s being a tad dramatic, but she can just picture the deep scowl that would tug at his lips if he were to catch sight of you. She’s already rolling her eyes at the thought of his lecture as she enters her mother’s quarters.

Mo’at flitters about the small space, mixing herbs and mumbling prayers beneath her breath. Neytiri watches her mother work for a moment, unable to find a moment to interrupt. However, when she feels your breaths become labored against her chest, she clears her throat loudly.

Mo’at’s soft chanting comes to an abrupt stop as she turns to face her daughter.

“Oel ngati kameie, sa’nok.”

“Oel ngati kameie, maite. What brings you here?” The Tsahik tilts her head, knowing gaze falling to your weakened form.

Neytiri shifts her weight between her feet, licking her lips as her narrowed eyes meet your closed ones, “I am not sure what happened. She had been doing fine for most of our hunt, and suddenly she collapses.”

Humming, Mo’at motions her daughter closer with a flick of her wrist, repeating the same motions that Neytiri had done previously. With her palm on your forehead, she takes a deep breath, allowing Eywa’s visions to pass behind her eyelids. When she opens her eyes, she’s met with Neytiri’s impatient ones. They were just like her father’s, she notes bittersweetly, but she answers her daughter’s unasked question nonetheless.

“She will be okay, my daughter. Just as it has come, her sickness will pass.”

Neytiri’s shoulders slump with relief, but they are immediately tense once again when her ears catch wind of someone else entering her mother’s hut. She turns to hiss at the sudden intrusion but is silenced by her mother’s raised arm.

“Tsu’tey,” her mother starts, “oel ngati kameie.”

Cursing beneath her breath, Neytiri moves to hide you from the warrior’s sight. The man in question dips his head respectfully to the Tsahik, bringing his hand up before motioning to her.

His gaze drifts to Neytiri, who offers a small nod in return. There’s movement in her arms, but she turns away before he can get a better look. Mo’at then steps between him and her daughter, further blocking his view.

“Why have you come here, my son?” She begins to circle him, lifting his arms and tail in search of any noticeable injuries.

“Saeyla and Ka'ani have fallen ill,” he states, ears twitching curiously when he hears something akin to a cough, but he brushes it off.

He watches as she stalks back to her previous place in the middle of the hut, her face twisting into a pensive expression. His lips part to voice his concerns but is stopped short by a small noise coming from the thing coddled in Neytiri’s arms.

“The hell…? Where am I?”

The voice, though graveled and nasally, was too familiar for him not to be able to recognize. Mo’at sighs upon seeing something spark within Tsu’tey’s eyes, moving aside to allow him passage deeper into her hut, and more importantly, closer to you.

“Neytiri? Fuck, I ruined the hunt, didn’t I?” You groan dramatically, resting your forehead against her torso.

She merely laughs softly, “You are fine, meylan, we can go hunting again once you are all better.” She then turns when she feels Tsu’tey’s glare burning holes into her back, but not before rolling her eyes.

You offer a weak wave in greeting once you meet his gaze. His jaw clenches at the sight of you, fists repeatedly tightening and relaxing at his side in an attempt to ground himself. Your name falls from his lips, almost as if he’s afraid it’s really you. He’s never seen you so…weak before.

It was jarring, frightening, almost. You were usually so strong, keeping up with most of the clan despite your synthetic genetic makeup. And yet, here you were, as weak and frail as your other form.

He steps closer to you and Neytiri, lips parting ever so slightly. Upon noticing his hesitation, Neytiri’s gaze softens further, “She will be okay, brother. Eywa has already declared it.”

His shoulders sag, making him appear much smaller than he actually was.

“That may be true,” Mo’at starts, gaining the attention of the two younger Na’vi, “but she will still require care.” Her gaze falls to Tsu’tey, the beginnings of a small grin pulling at the corner of her lips.

“I will take care of her,” his declaration was firm, and neither of the two women expected the emotionally stunted man to openly voice his concerns. Neytiri smiles, the knowing glint in her eyes causing him to glare at her, hissing softly as he takes you into his arms.

“Oel ngati kameie, Tsu’tey…” With that small greeting, you’re out like a light, resting peacefully in the comforts of Tsu’tey’s arms. He sighs, the gathered tension in his shoulders dissipating at the sight of you at peace.

–

The next time you find yourself in your avatar body, you’re still sick, much to your dismay. Though you feel significantly better, your limbs are still weak and your head still pounds with the same persistent headache as before.

Your eyes take in the surroundings, the sight of the unfamiliar hut rousing your confusion. You had expected to wake up in one of the communal hammocks, or at least Mo’at’s hut.

The room was nearly empty, save for the hammock you rested on and a few measly decorations that seemed placed in a vain attempt to fill space. However, despite the almost eerily emptiness of the hut, there was something strikingly familiar with it all. Something so–

The makeshift door to the hut is pushed aside, mid-morning light spilling into the room and nearly blinding you. You squint at the figure in the doorway, ears flattening as you hiss at the headache.

Tsu’tey stands awkwardly in the doorway, seemingly contemplating whether or not he should enter. In his hands, a fresh kill is clutched tightly in one of his hands, while the other holds his bow.

You stare at him questioningly, head tilting slightly as he slowly stalks through the hut. His long legs allow him to make his way to your side in just a few powerful strides. He licks his lips, presenting you the kill similarly to how a child would show their parents their artwork

“I have brought you food.”

You nod slowly, a small smile beginning to make its way to your lips, “Thank you, Tsu’tey.”

Seemingly approving of your response, he lights the small hearth in the center of the hut and begins to cook. The silence between the two of you is comfortable and only broken by the sound of the crackling fire as it licks restlessly at the air.

You only speak when he makes his way back to you, cooked food in hand, “So…this your place?” It was a stupid question, really. Of course this was his place; he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t! Unbothered by your obvious question, he nods as he takes a bite out of his piece of food.

He spares the hut a glance around the room, wincing at the bareness, suddenly feeling self-conscious of it, “I apologize for the lack of decoration. I am not home often…or good at decorating.” He turns away, seemingly embarrassed as he mumbles the last part to himself.

Your giggle brings his attention back to you, his eyes narrow in a glare while his nose scrunches. It’s cute, you think.

“Maybe I could help? I always enjoyed redecorating my college dorm back on Earth.”

Tsu’tey’s eyes widen, taken aback by your bold offer. His lips part, tongue darting out swiftly to wet his lips–an unconscious habit he picked up through the years. He stands abruptly, clearing his throat, much to your confusion.

“I will stand guard outside, you need to rest.”

Before you can ask him what was wrong, he’s already outside. You can see his shadow peeking beneath the makeshift door.

Not even ten minutes later, you hear voices quietly arguing outside the door.

“She is unwell, Jakesully! Go home,” you hear Tsu’tey hiss at the second figure. The shadows shift. The one you assume is Jake’s backs up but still remains in front of the door. You begin making your way over, pushing aside the vines that make up the door despite your weakened state.

“Jake…?” The two men turn at the sound of your voice, and you swear a look of relief crosses Jake’s face when he meets your gaze. He steps forward but is immediately stopped by Tsu’tey, who stands between the two of you and pulls you into his side, his tail thrashing irritatedly behind him. Raising his hands in surrender, Jake’s questioning eyes flicker between you and the warrior blocking his path.

“Hey, I got some medicine from Max,” the former dreamwalker holds up a small container, shaking it. Tsu’tey takes it, glaring at Jake before motioning him to go with a flick of his chin. Your friend complies, but not before giving you a sly grin and a wink.

You turn to look at Tsu’tey, whose glare remains fixed on where Jake had previously stood.

You snort at his pinched expression, laying a hand on his chest. He gingerly places his free hand above yours. Your breath hitches in your throat, gaze snapping to meet his own. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your own, breath intermingling with yours as his heartbeat picks up beneath your hand. For a moment the two of you gaze into each other's eyes.

And for the first time in the last few days, you felt at peace.

[masterlist]

#avatar—✸#avatar x reader #tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #avatar 2009 #avatar 1 #avatar #tsu'tey fluff

952 notes · View notes