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vanishingstarrs · 6 months ago

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pancakes for dinner ( k bakugo x nurse!reader, pro hero era, established relationship, just soft and pure vibes, down bad bakugo aka my boyfie fr, slight smut at the end, NSFW, minors DNI ) ( guysss i’ve been so sick and i’ve been suffering having to work still bc #hispanic we ain’t eva allowed to call out )): i’ve been wanting to write please please please x bakugo but haven’t had the energy, meantime hope y’all enjoy this little fic <3 just wholesome mushy stuff for y’all but then it turned smutty at the end because why not lol also i’m pretty new to writing explicitly so pls lmk how it came out !! idk if i'll do that again lmao we shall see i guess )

You were exhausted.

Mentally and physically.

Work had been a tad overwhelming lately, with extra things being piled onto your already heavy workload after a big merger between two of Japan’s biggest hospitals, which in turn caused a lot of people to be let go. Not only had it been stressful wondering whether you’d make the cut or not after a “re-interview”, but when you learned that you had been accepted you’d also been asked if you could take on a few extra duties.

You had never been one to back down from work, always taking initiative and being happy to help any one of your coworkers that might need it.

Lately though, it seemed every single person needed help. Your coworkers, your patients, and if it wasn’t those two then it was your boss asking if you could help her with management duties that had nothing to do with the extra work you’d been assigned to do on top of everything else.

You were sick and tired.

Your muscles cried out as you pushed your apartment door open and immediately kicked off your shoes, groaning as you bent down in order to place them onto the shoe stand. You were sure you heard your back crack as you stood straight once more to hang your purse and keys.

You didn’t bother unpacking the lunch you never got time to eat, leaving the bag you packed it in tied up and in the fridge before heading into your bedroom and immediately shedding your scrubs. You hated doing skincare, but thought about how dirty your face must be after dealing with so many patients and dragged yourself into the bathroom to get it over with.

By the time you were finished doing everything, your body was begging you to lay down for just a minute.

A little power nap never hurt, you told yourself as you fell onto your bed face first and sighed. You hugged your pillow to your aching body and allowed yourself to relax for just a little while.

Though “a minute” quickly turned into three hours as the sun went down and the night sky pulled you further into dreamland.

You didn’t hear the front door open or close, you didn’t stir when your boyfriend started removing his hero equipment, much less wake when those heavy gauntlets he somehow wore all day hit the floor or when his pounding footsteps carried across the hardwood as he made his way to your shared bedroom to check on you.

You missed the brief smirk on his face as he found you lying on his side of the bed, on your right side with a leg propped up for comfort.

Katsuki knew how hard you’d been working lately with the merger between the two hospitals and how stressed it made you. With him working as a hero, he encountered many people that wound up needing to go to the hospital. On top of that, you also had all the other sick people that hadn’t been involved in some villain attack. You likely dealt and saved more people in a single day than he did in a month, he knew this, he was proud of the fact, actually, and incredibly proud of you.

He was damn lucky to have you.

And for all these reasons, he was happy to see you rest for a bit.

He’d often come home late and find that you’d already done all the cleaning around the house, as well as meal prep for both you and him, and still found the time to bake desert on top of making him dinner. You went above and beyond in all aspects of your life, often even calling and checking up on his parents when he hadn’t done so in too long. He’d receive texts from his mother scolding him and making sure he was taking good care of you the way she knew you did him, he swore you were the favorite and he understood why you were.

Everyone loved you.

He adored you.

Except he hadn’t been doing his part as well as he should be lately.

And so, while you slept, he quietly changed into some loungewear before carefully shutting the bedroom door closed behind him.

He tried his hardest to be quiet as he went around cleaning up throughout the house, he swept, he steam mopped the floors (and prayed he didn’t miss a spot), he did your laundry, took your work shoes and scrubbed them clean for your next workday, he took your old lunch and tossed it out before setting to work on preparing you something delicious for tomorrow.

Being in the kitchen was actually soothing for him, he liked being able to experiment with recipes and different things for you to try. He hated that he hadn’t made the time to recently. He cooked enough dinner to pack lunch for both you and him, then last minutely decided that you’d definitely want something sweet when you woke up and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.

You liked it best when you had pancakes for dinner, not breakfast.

He was extremely pleased when they turned out light and fluffy just the way you liked them and he set out to cut up some fruit for you to put on top, making sure everything was ready before heading back to your shared room.

Katsuki was less quiet this time around, as he slid into bed next to you. He propped himself up on his elbow as he buried his fingers into your hair and gently scratched your scalp.

You were exhausted, and likely wouldn’t have woken up if not for him leaning over and placing kisses from your neck all the way up to your ear. You felt his hot breath as he whispered for you to please wake up, which made you groan softly.

You’d yet to open your eyes, but who else would it be? You asked,“Katsuki?”

“Made you food, baby, c’mon, I saw you didn’t eat your lunch, you gotta put somethin’ in your belly.” He explained as he removed his hand from your hair and lifted the material of your shirt to rub up and down your stomach, you felt him inch closer to your chest before stopping himself and tugging your tank top back down to your waist.

You turned toward him, quickly finding the divet in between his shoulder and neck to plant your face in. You were barely awake, not really comprehending what he was trying to say.

“Missed you.” You relaxed further into him.

“Missed you so much, sweets.” You felt him kiss your forehead,“Hate to pull you from bed, but you really gotta open your eyes for me.”

You did as he asked, smiling as his face came into view, lit up by the soft light streaming in from the hallway. “Hi, honey.” You managed to get out as he smushed your cheeks (cuteness aggression) and placed three kisses onto your nose.

You grinned as he said hi back and repeated that he’d cooked for you.

You beamed, you hadn’t had his cooking in a while, but didn’t exactly make a move to get up from bed. It wasn’t until he revealed that he’d made you pancakes, that had you up in seconds.

He chuckled as he followed you down the hall, lightly smacking your butt as you happily made your way through the apartment. You turned to him with surprise,“You cleaned too?”

“Course.” He scoffed as he tugged on your hand and sat you down at your small table that sat four people max. “I’d do it more if you didn’t always beat me to everything, I was thinking I should be doing a bit more around here anyway.”

“I can handle it.” You said, like always.

He rolled his eyes as he brought over the plate he’d prepared for you.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I’m just saying you don’t have to give a hundred percent every day, you know? You could give me thirty and I’d be more than happy to give the remaining seventy.” He began to explain,“I wanna take care of you too, and that starts by you not doing everything.”

You silently watched him cut up your pancakes before placing some fruit onto them and drizzling maple syrup all over, he gave you tea to drink and pulled his chair closer to you while you ate.

He ran his fingers through your hair again as you told him all about your day before asking about his and what time he’d gotten home. He let you feed him a couple bites of food and you snagged a few extra kisses each time you lied and told him he had syrup on his face.

When you finished, he asked if you’d like a bit of real food, claiming he wanted you nice and full. You agreed, happy to eat what he’d prepared.

You were less tired now, satisfied with your belly full and sitting with your lover as he recalled a story about retrieving someone’s lost kitten in a tree. You laughed at the classic save and felt your mental load becoming lighter the more the minutes went on.

After eating, the pampering continued.

Katsuki demanded you allow him to run you a bath, and he quickly made the bathroom up with a few candles. He set up a movie for you to watch on your laptop as he came into the room with you and offered to wash your hair. You requested he get in with you then, and he obliged quickly, taking his time when it came to massaging his hands through your hair and pressing kisses against your back at every opportunity. He held you against his chest as you relaxed into him.

You honestly started to get sleepy again.

And then it was ripped away from you once more as Katsuki led you to bed, not to sleep, but to have you spread out against the mattress for him to plaster his tongue against you and demand he get his dinner now.

“Wanna take care of you.” He’d said.

He quickly had you squirming and writhing underneath his touch and the feel of his fingers inside as he worked you until completion. He sung you praises about how hard you’d been working lately, telling you how you deserved this and more, as well as making sure you knew how good you always did for him.

“One more, baby.” He begged.

One more turned into two then three, and by the time he finally lined himself up to your entrance you were spent. He worshipped your body, kneading your breasts and holding one of your hands back so you couldn’t hide how flushed your face had become from not just his compliments, but from the way he fucked you.

“Katsuki,” You moaned,“Close.” Again.

“Cum with me, baby, please.”

The movement of his hips was starting to get sloppy, but neither of you noticed through the haze. He whined in your ear as you latched onto his back with your hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, your walls squeezed him and he moaned one last time as he got lost in euphoria. He didn’t make a move to remove himself as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own and kissed your cheek and then your neck and then your collarbone, making a line all the way down to your bellybutton.

He occupied himself with making sure you stayed awake despite your eyes being closed as you attempted to catch your breath, he sucked hard enough to leave a few marks along your chest and before you knew it you started to feel him become hard inside of you again.

Your eyes snapped open as you gave him a look.

Katsuki smirked as he rubbed your hip and stole your mouth briefly,“Gotta make sure you’re nice and full, baby, one more time f’me, please?”

“You’re insatiable.” You told him.

And yet, how could you say no to him when he looked at you that way?

It was a good thing you’d taken that nap earlier, especially now that your body would soon be aching for a different reason.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo smut #mha smut #ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ #vanishingstarrs

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pickyourpoisonandevolve · 29 days ago

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Thanksgiving Drabble w/ the 141 + Black Reader

Notes/warnings: just a fluff piece from me. I don’t know how to do drabbles/imagines but I SURE DO enjoy reading them and I have a brain baby to birth. Idk if this is TOO specific for a drabble but reader is black/female/american. Because those things aren’t often represented in these! And also I can do what I want at the end of the day. Just… just walk with me here.

The military is an easy place to forget that your squadmates are real actual people with families and backgrounds, on account of the inherent assimilation. Not that it wasn’t needed, but you get so busy creating your own language and communication styles that I think being able to express cultural habits and likes get a little seldom.

All that to say, you and Gaz LOVE to cook together, as it makes you nostalgic for your respective families. And you’ll be damned if these Brits make you skip Thanksgiving. The rest met your enthusiasm with “fucking Americans” but Gaz thankfully was more than happy to join you in the prep, you both bonding in hatred for the same old shit from the base kitchen. But most of the base is gone so you lot have the kitchen and common room to yourself, and that means you and Gaz are making a FEAST.

Pulling greens, the dishes that take 6-8 hours to make, the shit talking, the hyper specific recipes that you bicker about, the music played. You both are IN IT, and Johnny, Simon and Price didn’t have anywhere else to be, and are more than happy to eat what you make. (As they aren’t the most talented cooks of the bunch) Sausage rolls and chip buttys a Thanksgiving does not make.

It tickles the other three to walk by occasionally, listening to you to just… talk. And vibe. About old experiences, moving in tandem, bitching occcasionally. It had a spooky parallel to how you all worked in the field, seamlessly in sync, but the juxtaposition of it being wholesome. You all got to live in a temporary bubble of normalcy and domesticism. Like a big weird family, you could forget you all killed people for a living.

Price had shit to do, so he did flybys through the day, but they increased in frequency as it went on, his smile growing each time. His little grinch heart growing, seeing his team get along. You tossed cookies at him, hoping to get a rise out of him, but all you were met with was a “thanks, love” and a wink. You made a mental note to do that at a frequency of everyday forever.

Soap didn’t want to miss anything (or feel left out) so he kept to his favorite things: “watching TV” aka TikToks and passively watching a show, interjecting in conversations and stealing food when no one was looking. (Everyone was looking and he was slapped and yelled at A LOT)

Ghost was just unfamiliar with this intimate of camaraderie. He stopped in occasionally for tea, which Gaz and you started making for him. You could see his little eye crinkles as you prepared his tea just like he liked it.

Gaz and you started singing together as you plated the meal on the kitchen island. The rest of the team was holding a flight pattern in the common area, pulled in like the smell lines in an old timey cartoon, scotch already prepped and poured. But there was a moment where you two got swept up in your comfortability, and started singing in earnest. (This song in particular) You two didn’t make it a habit of getting too relaxed in front of the others, big tough soldiers and all, so this was a rare, near nonexistent sight.

Better days comin' for sure

If this world were—

If it was up to me

I wouldn't give these nobodies no sympathy

I'd take away the pain, I'd give you everything

I just wanna see you win, wanna see

If this world were mine

The three on the couch looked back with open mouths and smiles as you carried on. Literal years you all have worked together, how did they not know you two sang, and HARMONIZED? Did you practice?

You noticed first, brought back to reality and almost dropping a dish. Scandalized! Embarassed! Blushing furiously! Gaz thankfully was impervious to their bullshit, and told them to fuck off and come eat. Typical soldiers, couldn’t sit down proper for anything, food included, so you all settled into conversation and a full meal standing around the island. Enjoying the bubble, enjoying the peace, enjoying the moment.

Johnny, Price and Simon graciously offered to do dishes and clean. (Leftovers for days!) And after a while, you all dispersed. Soap stole a half of a pie and was inbound on falling asleep with his pants unbuttoned on the couch. Ghost was tactically figuring out how to look aloof and fall asleep on Soaps shoulder. Gaz had family (and a lady, you suspected) to FaceTime and Price hung behind you on the way to the barracks. Before you made your good nights, he offered to share a new bottle of bourbon his Nan sent in his room. Super casual. No pressure. Maybe he could hear your pretty voice sing just for him this time.

(This Drabble is sponsored by holidays, KDots new album, and an excuse to flirt with Price. Happy Thanksgiving, Americans are all on native land, and fuck Columbus)

#cod modern warfare #cod drabble #john price x reader #sorta!?#but friends #fluff #Drabble #I will kiss price in every timeline #black reader #ghoap #if you squint #I just think they’re neat #cod x reader #cod mw2 #Gaz and reader are cooking #literally and metaphorically

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ireadwithmyears · 6 days ago

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Take Me Nice and Slow

Pairing: Commander Mayday/fem reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Tags/warnings: 18+ Content (minors DNI), smut, lingerie, oral (F receiving), face-sitting, piv sex, use of toys: vibrator, authority kink if you squint (you cannot convince me that Mayday doesn’t have one), praise, teeny bit of soft dom/pleasure dom Mayday, implied squirting, no plot, but it’s life day, so hopefully still if not entirely wholesome, warm and cosy holiday vibes

Summary: If anyone deserves a slow, soft morning by the fireplace on life day, paired with heated, sensual lovemaking, it’s Mayday. Luckily for him, you intend to give him exactly that.

Authors note: I wanted this man to not only get it, but to get it good and specifically, in front of a fireplace. After all, when all we’ve seen of him is when he’s cold and in freezing ice and snow, this is the least that he deserves. I wrote this very self indulgently, but I hope you enjoy it too😁 if you do, please consider giving it a reblog. Those are very appreciated. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and I hope you like this little gift I’ve cooked up for it🎄❄️💞

The scene is almost cute.

The melted snowflakes that have left faint streaks along his hairline, lightly tousling his dark locks, his eyelashes lightly brushing against his cheeks as his eyes flutter in sleep, how he’s cocooned himself in a nest of blankets directly in front of the fireplace on the sitting room floor like a tooka kit, stretched out to seek the heat, the light of the flames casting a soft, warm glow upon his tan skin as he rests there.

Or, well, it would be cute if your light, slipper-clad footsteps that you desperately attempt to keep quiet against the carpeted floor didn’t immediately catch his notice—hypervigilant and observant clone commander that he is—and he slowly, sheepishly raises his head, yawning with a slow stretch as he basks in the warmth of the fire, gazing up at you with a sheepish grin and warm, sleep-softened eyes.

“Comfy?” you ask, finding a soft smile pulling up the corners of your own lips as you gaze down at him, pulling your dressing gown more securely around your shoulders.

The fire is warm, but the chill of the air surrounding you still remains, causing small goosebumps to raise along your exposed skin. After all, you’re still only adorned—apart from the long, soft dressing gown that’s draped around you—in a lingerie set.

A small, baby pink bodysuit, an early Life Day gift from him, is a thing of delicate, lacy accents that only just manages to cover you, and with the way that it hugs your curves and displays glimpses of the skin beneath, it leaves little to the imagination. Which is exactly why you had put it on for him last night, enjoying how it made you feel as if you were on display for him to touch and to play with as he wanted. By the end of it, you had been too tired to take it off and had contentedly fallen asleep against his chest, the heat of his skin and the nest of blankets he had pulled over the two of you once you were done keeping you blissfully warm the whole night through.

“Mm, yeah,” he nods his head, absently scratching at his beard. His voice is a low rumble, still slightly gravelly against the soft crackle and hiss of the flames, the way it always sounds first thing in the morning. “Couldn’t resist after shovelling the driveway. My clothes got covered in snow.”

That explains why the toned muscles of his chest peek out from beneath one of the blankets. You smile, letting out a relieved breath. A blizzard had hit hard last night, cancelling your prior Life Day Eve plans and constituting an impromptu but welcome night in with Mayday. But you had family coming for dinner later this afternoon, and you found yourself grateful that Mayday had sacrificed sleeping in to shovel out the drive of snow that had piled up during the night.

“Thank you for doing that,” you say, taking a step closer. He catches your hand, pressing a kiss first to the back of your hand and then turning it to let his lips linger at the pulse point of your wrist. You feel the soft, warm puff of air against your skin as he breathes, and it causes you to shiver.

“It was nothing, really. You know how I’m naturally an early riser,” he says, kissing your palm.

“Perhaps there’s still a way I can repay you for your thoughtfulness?” you suggest, allowing your dressing gown to fall open, revealing the bodysuit with its lace-covered front. Your nipples stiffen, hardening in reaction to the cool air and from the slight catch in his breath. You can tell that he notices them beginning to peek out through the thin material of the lingerie.

“There is,” he rumbles, his voice low and smooth. The flames dance and softly crackle within the fireplace, mirroring the heated, tension-charged silence that follows as one of his rough, warm hands travels up your leg, pausing to stroke his fingers along your thigh. “Take it off.”

You shudder, hearing the edge of stern and effortless gruff authority in his voice that always does something to you. Scrambling to do as he asks, your hands fumble with undoing the loose knot at your middle, allowing the dressing gown to slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet.

“Mm, perfect girl,” he breathes, eyes greedily taking in your appearance, shameless as they linger at your curves.

You let out a surprised little squeak as the hand on your thigh moves upward, easily undoing the snaps and buttons that hold the bodysuit together at the bottom, pushing it up around your hips.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, fingers gliding through your damp folds and not even pausing before circling against your clit. “Already so needy. This all for me, pretty girl?” he asks, both teasing and smugness laced within his tone, pulling his fingers away so he can bring them to his lips, his eyes closing as he sucks.

“Yes,” you say in barely a breath, trying not to whine at the sudden loss of contact. From the way he smirks up at you with a twinkle in his eyes, it evidently comes through anyways.

“Then come here,” he says, and as soon as you’re making a move to straddle him he stops you, reaching out his hands and wrapping them around your thighs. “Uh uh,” he tsks, giving your thighs a squeeze as he guides you down. “Not like that, Cyar. I want you here.”

You gasp softly as he effortlessly positions you to hover over his mouth, feeling the warmth of his breath against your core, already letting out a stifled whimper as your knees lightly hit the ground. The heat from the flames caresses the skin of your hips, and you find it only amplifies your desire for him.

“I want you to come at least once on my mouth before I fuck you,” Mayday hums, and you can’t quite hold back your whine this time as one side of your labia is lightly teased between his lips. “You know the rules,” he says in between gentle sucks. “Not even Life Day could give you a pass.”

He’s right, you do know the rules perfectly well. If Mayday enjoys one thing, it’s holding your pleasure in the palm of his hand and doing as he pleases with it. Sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly mean, it’s edging, keeping you dangerously teetering but not quite falling over the edge of bliss for as long as he can stand it, which you know from experience, regardless of your begging and pleading, can be quite a long time, his patience an admirable virtue, almost infinite.

Sometimes, it’s stretching you out on your bed and burying his face between your legs until you're incoherent, squirming and fraught with overstimulation while his hands easily keep your hips pinned. Regardless, he will always, always make you come first before he buries himself inside you, oftentimes more than once.

You think that it’s not so secretly just as if not more enjoyable for him, and you, at the end of the day, are always a willing and eager participant.

“Mm,” he practically groans as his tongue slowly drags through your folds, lips delicately beginning to suck at your clit. You whimper, your hair falling against your shoulders as your head tips back, your lips parting in a soft gasp.

“M-May,” you whimper, feeling the light tickle of his beard against your thighs as his tongue gently nudges at your entrance, slow as it presses inside. He only hums in response, the vibrations pleasantly tingling against your skin and you whine, all pretence of composure gone as you reach down with one hand to thread your fingers through his hair, causing him to smirk against you as he catches your other hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing gently. “So good, May,” you sigh, gazing at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “That feels so good.”

His eyes are dark as he gazes up at you from between your thighs, the glow of the fire casting a soft, enchanting light over your features. Your skin is heated and flushed beneath his hands as he settles them at your hips, feeling how they twitch each time he flicks his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Mine,” he breathes, turning his cheek slightly to scrape his teeth against your inner thigh, ending in a sharp bite that is both quick and searing before he goes back to your folds. “Say it,” he orders before his tongue is roughly thrusting inside you and you’re gasping, your hips squirming despite his hold.

“Yours,” you cry out, legs shaking as he continues the onslaught, dragging the flat of his tongue to circle over your clit before teasing it with the tip. “Fuck, that’s…all yours, sir.”

You feel as much as hear the satisfied rumble he makes as his hands move to grip your shaking thighs, rough and demanding as he spreads them apart further. You know exactly what it does to him when your voice becomes so desperate that it sounds like every word is a plea, and when you throw in a well-timed “sir” like that, you know how it stirs something primal, just edging on the attractive side of possessive, deep within his bones.

His lips firmly pressing against your clit, now insistent as he sucks it into his mouth just about undoes you, your back arching and your hips bucking against his face as your orgasm slams into you. He groans, pressing his tongue against you and working you in firm, circular strokes until you’re whimpering out his name, body nothing but a twitching, shaking mess.

He drags his tongue through your folds one last time to collect and taste the remnants of your release before slowly and gently easing you down onto the ground beside him, pulling you against his chest.

He tilts your chin, guiding your head up for a soft yet teasing kiss. You can taste yourself, your arousal still glistening on his lips, and when you gasp in realization, your eyes widening and your lips parting, he happily takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past them, coaxing it into the heat of your mouth before pulling away, leaving the two of you breathless.

For a moment, you lay there, and it’s almost peaceful. His lips are soft as he presses them along the column of your throat, the scratch of his beard against your shoulder familiar. But then, the heat of the fire is so warm, and it stirs something within the pit of your stomach, hot, enticing, and making you want him even more.

“I still wanna fuck you right here,” you admit, your cheeks heating. He chuckles, and the sound is warm, low as it rumbles within his chest, the reverberation brushing against your cheek that’s pressed against it.

“Of course you do, Cyar’ika,” he murmurs, lightly tracing down the heated skin of your stomach, dipping between your legs. “Always so eager for me.”

A finger lightly circles around your entrance, Mayday slow and taking his time as he eases it inside, curling it upward and pressing the pad of it against that one spot just once, just to feel how you twitch, clenching around him before he pulls away and you whine, turning your head and giving him a pout. Mayday only smirks, taking the opportunity to press his finger, wet with your arousal, between your lips and watching as you instinctively suck.

“Good girl,” he whispers, and you blush, looking up at him with wide eyes as he watches you, his own eyes dark and hungry. “You’ll get what you want, pretty girl. But I have something for you first.”

“Oh?” you say, curiosity clearly piqued as he reaches for a small box beneath the Life Day tree. Sensing your gaze on him, he smirks, fingers carefully undoing the ribbon that holds the lid of the box in place.

“Another Life Day gift for you,” he murmurs, flipping open the box and holding it out for your inspection. “That uh...probably wouldn’t be suitable for you to open around family.”

You peek inside, intrigued to find a small, bullet shaped vibrator nestled inside the box, the colour a cool, soft ice blue. It reminds you of the waters that had surrounded the two of you when he had taken you to an oceanic world for an anniversary getaway the year prior. The toy is small, compact, and really looks like it could fit in the palm of your hand, certainly, with the maneuverability to slip in between bodies when you’re... “Oh.”

Mayday laughs, grinning down at you. “See? I have a plan. But first.” he reaches for you, and you willingly allow him to guide you, up until you're straddling his hips, and his hands are skating along your sides, your arms and your shoulders to slip the straps of the bodysuit down them. You shimmy, helping him to pull it off before you’re sitting completely naked with only the flames to light the contours of your skin. “I want you to take what you want from me, Cyar’ika.”

The way he slowly rocks his hips to press his firmly erect length against you makes his desires perfectly clear, and you smile, just as eager to take him.

Mayday watches, transfixed with heavy eyes as you hover above him, adjusting yourself on your knees and reaching down to guide the head of his cock between your folds, teasing yourself with him and coating his length in your arousal. Mayday’s breath stutters and as you take him in one slow, controlled roll of your hips, sinking down onto his length and luxuriating in the feeling of how he stretches your walls out around him, his head falls back, and his breaths turn into a low, drawn out groan as his hands reach for you, eager to feel the warmth and the softness of your bare skin beneath his fingertips.

“That’s it,” he whispers, hands skating up your sides to gently cup your breasts, circling his thumbs around your nipples. “Take me nice and slow.”

As you obediently begin to rock your hips, movements slow and sensual, your eyes flutter as you look down at him, your lips parted in a soft moan. Your clit drags deliciously against the heated skin of his pelvis, and when your eyes close, it feels like he’s everywhere—his hands on your breasts and his cock nudging against every part of you that craves the touch that only he can give.

“Mayday,” you whimper, your head tipped back as he gives one of your nipples just the lightest pinch. “Please. I need—”

“Take it,” he coaxes, slowly rolling his hips against yours, causing his cock to drag against your walls so wonderfully that you cry out, mind temporarily going completely blank. “Take what you want from me, Cyar. I’m all yours.”

With eager abandon, you begin to grind your hips down against him in earnest, Mayday watching as you set a steady, quickening rhythm.

He looks up at you, utterly enthralled as he watches you fuck yourself on his cock. The light of the fire makes your skin look radiant, and he can’t help but admire how it highlights each of your curves—the line of your neck as your head tips back, each of your breasts as he continues to caress and squeeze, eventually lifting his head up slightly to capture one of your nipples between his lips, swirling his tongue around it lightly.

“Mayday, Mayday, I’m—” you gasp, your words cut off by a surprised whimper as he lightly grazes your nipple with his teeth.

“Do it,” he says, barely pulling away from your skin. “Come for me.”

You gasp, letting out a breathless whine as his lips once again close around your nipple, his hand giving the other a rough pinch. Then your hips are bucking and your back is arching and you’re coming, your orgasm hard and fast and leaving you breathless.

“Good,” Mayday says, his breaths labored but miraculously clinging to his control with such an iron grip that you have to admire it. “Always so obedient.”

And then he’s flipped you onto your back,your hips hitting the blanket that’s laid out on the ground with a soft thump, and his hands are spreading your thighs apart, opening you up, and he’s inside you in one quick, demanding thrust, letting out a groan as he buries himself within your heat.

You’re so distracted by the change in positioning, by his fingernails lightly digging into the skin of your hips, and by how quickly and roughly he’s thrusting inside you that you don’t register him reaching for the toy, the sound of the low buzz, or how he slips it between the two of you.

You do, however, become distinctly aware of it as Mayday slowly circles it around your clit. Your hips twitch, the hum of the vibrations low but powerful against your clit.

“You can give me another,” Mayday says, coaxing. He buries himself inside you, rewarding each sound you make with a small, sharp thrust of his hips. “Come on, pretty girl. Make a mess all over my cock.”

He presses a button on the toy, and the vibrations instantly become more intense, a pulsing thrum as he presses it directly against your already throbbing and sensitive clit. You squeeze your eyes shut, your back arching, hips lifting off the ground, and your legs wrapping around his hips, the buzz of the toy nestled against you seeming to scramble any remaining coherent thoughts as you come yet again, walls constricting around his cock and feeling a distant rush between your legs as your vision shatters into stars.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Mayday croons, his voice distant. And then he’s burying his face against your neck, groaning low against your ear as his thrusts become less measured, and all at once he stills, pressing his hips flush against you as he comes, the feeling of his release and the vibrator still pressed against you sending small, pleasant aftershocks through you that make your toes curl and your whole body shiver.

Mayday is slow, careful as he removes and switches off the toy, setting it aside, gentle as he eases himself from you. He groans, unable to help himself from trailing his fingers along your inner thighs, eyes intent on your glistening folds and the remnants of your combined releases leaking from your parted lips.

“Kriff, that’s beautiful,” he murmurs, his head dipping to press soft kisses against your stomach, trailing up the center of your chest to gently press against your lips, both of you letting out equally contented sighs as he presses his forehead against yours, one last kiss lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “You’re so beautiful, my sweet Cyar,” which, despite everything the two of you have already done, still manages to make you blush.

“I think we have some cleaning up to do before everyone gets here,” you say in a soft, breathless giggle.

“That can wait,” Mayday huffs, a chuckle in his voice as his lips pull upward into a smile. He sits, turning to face the fire, reaching for you and settling you in his lap. The warmth is soothing against your naked skin, and you find yourself softening, melting against Mayday’s chest. Your head droops, resting against his shoulder and he smiles, fingers gently caressing over your hair.

“Happy Life Day, Mayday,” you whisper low against his skin.

His arms wrap around you tightly, curling himself against you as he cradles your head in one hand, lightly kissing your cheek, your nose, and your lips before he speaks, his voice the same low, rich, and soothing baritone that was the first thing to catch your notice, and eventually, long ago, had spoken such words of adoration that it was effortless, natural for you to so easily fall for him—where, in his arms, you found a comfortable resting place and still found yourself years later more than happy to remain.

“Happy Life Day, my beautiful Cyar’ika,” he breathes, and despite the festivities you’ll have later, you can’t help but feel that right here, held in his arms and perched so perfectly in his lap by the heated blaze of the fire, is, with a beautiful warmth and simplicity, where the two of you are truly meant to be.

•As you might have guessed, this is the last thing I’ll be writing before Christmas, and then I’ll be giving myself a little break. Although, part three of looking out for you might be done before New Year’s 🤔 we’ll see how things go. In the new year, the first thing I intend to focus on is wrapping up The smaller, ongoing series that I started near the end of this year, and then from there, all bets are off, really. We’ll see what I start writing when I get there 😅

•Thank You to @sweetmelodygraphics for such pretty snowflake dividers❄️

#commander mayday x reader #mayday x reader #commander mayday #The bad batch fanfiction #The clone wars fanfiction #tcw fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #sw the clone wars #tcw #tbb fic #fanfiction #Reader insert #star wars smut #Ireadwithmyears fics

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scraplette · 4 months ago

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This is random but I noticed you mention you were a big Rung/Skids shipper and I'm curious about something. I wasn't active in the fandom where MTMTE/LL were coming out and I feel like I missed huge discourse or something, because I'm really confused about why I have always seen Rung/Fort Max and Rung/Whirl and MegaRung everywhere but nobody seems to ship Rung with the guy he was super close with from the beginning and committed suicide thinking about and coughed up crystals over? I know it's not because it's wrong for therapists and patients to date because all of those people were Rung's patients. Do you know why this is?

Hello there! Sorry for the late response, I wanted to do this on desktop and just hadn't found the time.

You've sent a really interesting question but, I'm sorry, I'm not sure I have an answer for you. Heck, even at the time the comics were coming out I was always surprised by the lack of content for the ship. There was some discourse about Rung dating paitents but, funnily enough, Skids was never really a part of it. He wasn't really considered by the fandom as one of Rung's paitents so it wasn't an issue. The storyarc we the readers found out that Rung was treating Skids, was also the same arc where Rung quit. You did have some folks producing some excellent content for it(@littlestowl is still hands down my fave writer for this pair and @herzspalter did some hecking good fanart!) but never to the same extent as other ships. Not gonna blame people for that, we all have our preferences! Live and let ship and all that! So, since I had no anwers of my own I decided to counsult THE COUNCI(my friends who like Transformers) for their opinions and they came up with the excellent points. We even gathered DATA(we looked at Ao3 XD) Nothing definitive, of course, because obviously we're just a group of robot fans and can't speak for every TF fan on the net. These are just our thoughts and general vibes. 1) Rung is just so darn shippable. He potentially works well with a lot of characters and was pulled in lots of diff directions. Speaking as the main Rung/Skids shipper of the group I sort of get this(stupid sexy Rung) but even with all the diff ships sailing Rung/Skids still seemed oddly small in comparsion. 2)Another friend brought up a good point, Rung/Skids are a lovely ship but they're very wholesome and nice. Now, there is nothing wrong with that but you can't deny that spicy ships oozing with, as they put it, DRAMA just get folks excited. Lots of the other ships had this in spades. 3) Another friend had a lovely thought to add to this and I agree with it 100%. I'm just going to quote them directly "Which is kinda a shame because they have other kinds of cool drama - Rung basically compromised his position for Skids! Skids revived Rung's memory! The non-goodbye! But not conflict -drama." 4)Perhaps the venn diagram of Skids fan and Rungs fans didn't neccisarily crossover. Looking at the DATA, we can see that the most popular ships for Skids(in order) were SkidsSwerve, SkidsGetaway, and SkidsRung. I'm not sure if the Getaway fics were written pre or post betrayl.

5) Not really important but something I thought was a cool detail. Rung/Skids was really popular in the Japanese side of the fandom. I even own a physical doujin anthology for the pair! I can't remember any names of the top of my head, it's been years, but there were lots of lovely pieces of Rung/Skids fanart on the JP art sites.

I'm always a little sad about Rung/Skids. I always thought here were always lots of hooks throughtout the story that could lead the pair to more. Lots of little quiet personal moments just for the two of them. Like, Skids defending Rung against Getaway's snide comments. Ratchet sending Skids to Rung because he things the little chap is lonely. That final weirdly tense exchange between them will always sit a bit oddly with me. I know at the time there was a theory that Skids might've been into Nuatica at the time but nothing seemed to come of it, so I geuss we'll never know. I think I remember reading that Alex Milne didn't realise that would be their last interaction together, otherise he would've done the panel differently* Thank you for your ask! It was lovely to look back on old fandom memories ^_^ I hope I gave you some insights. As for myself, I'm hoping to get back into fic writing so no doubt I'll be adding to my collection of Rung/Skids drabbles.

*IMPORTANT UPDATE EDIT THING! I couldn't drop the final goodbye between them and the Alex Milne thing(it was nearly a decade ago so I was worried I'd misremembered) so I hunted down the original tweet and I've misremembered!

Sigh, what a shame that the final on-page interaction of my fave ship is forever off key and weird because of Writer/Artist miscomunucation :<

#Rung #Skids #MTMTE #Rung/Skids #Skids/Rung

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shir0oos-thoughts · 2 months ago

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Been pondering about who i think the Fhdw characters favorites are/relate to in Sanrio and it has NOT left my mind. So I tried something new! My two favorite things combined!! ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

ᝰ.ᐟFHDW meets SANRIO CHARACTERS ೀ

Kendra

She’s a Hello Kitty girl through and through although Seth calls her basic for it. They both love to read, are true friends, honest and have hearts of gold! Has different varieties in her collection (big and small). OWNS ALL THE HOLIDAY THEMED ONES! Corrects people who say she shes a cat and not a little girl.

Seth

Okay so i may be projecting here lol but he SCREAMS Chococat. They’re scattered-brained at times but LOVE to play around! They keep up to date on the latest news too. Has a plush of him on his bed. May or may not cuddle it sometimes…and Kendra may or may not have pictures…

Vanessa

No question about it. Kuromi. They both act tough but are secretly softies, they’re mischievous tho! Both have similar backstories and wanted revenge at a point in time too. Also fun fact: both were imprisoned for their crimes. She watched all the shows & movies she was featured in while in the dungeon!

Warren

Gotta be My Melody! Mostly bc he found out Vanessa’s fav was Kuromi lol. Funnily enough both characters have history with the other just like Warren and Vanessa. Both are good-natured and wholesome who bring good vibes to those around them. Not to mention they love their family! Is trying to convince Vanessa to go as them for Halloween-

Ronodin

Badtz Maru! Are you even surprised lol? Here are just some of Badtz’s likes; rolling his eyes, pulling faces at people and blowing raspberries at people…Definitely Ronodin coded (especially in appearance)! Would have a lot of fun troublemaking together since they love villainy<3 ! Bracken keeps asking him who his fav is but he refuses to tell him.

Bracken

Blue eyes and white (silver) hair?! How could he literally be anyone BUT Cinnamoroll! Both are quite shy but very friendly. They always help their friends when they need it AND have a tendency to put others before themselves. They’re both very popular for their looks too lol. Both come from distant territories (Cinnamoroll, the sky & Bracken, the fairy kingdom).

Tanu

Didn’t initially know about Sanrio until Kendra introduced him to it and immediately related to Pompompurin. Both are as chill as can be. Pom is a bit of a fashion icon due to his cute beret and striped scarf similar to Tanu being well renowned in the potion making community! They have positive outlooks on life and find joy in the little things!

Dale

People often forget about him a lot, just like Keroppi. Both are full of energy since Kerropi likes to swim/ play sports and Dale tends to the chores around Fablehaven. They even both have brothers and animal friends (Dale has Viola and Keroppi has a snail friend called Den Den). They’re just here for a good time! However, one time Warren got him a pusheen plush for his bday and he LOVED it. So he’s more of a pusheen type of guy now :3

Wow! This was really fun to do and pretty different from my other posts, might make a part 2 with some other characters but we’ll see😻 Hope you were able to learn a cool fact or two about Sanrio characters and I’m open to hearing thoughts on if you think this is accurate!

PS i started tagging my fhdw posts under the tag #shir0oos-thoughts so check it out if you enjoyed this post bc i’ll be making more soon!

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artficlly · 2 years ago

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the shadow (miniseries - part one)

Post Endgame Avengers AU miniseries - part one

avenger!bucky x widow!reader avenger!yelena x widow!reader (platonic)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Reader is an ex-black widow sniper who escaped the Red Room with the help of Yelena and Natasha. After working as an illegal hired gun, Yelena recruits the reader to the team as a sniper. The reader is closed off, not wanting to form connections or friends with anyone. Though, as their shell begins to crack, they notice they have a lot in common with a certain Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of weapons, swearing, low self-esteem reader, mentions of past non-con, lots of angst. lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've had in my brain for awhile now. i don't know if many people will vibe with this, so might just be written for my weird interests lol. i think this will be two, maybe three parts? I just wanted something a bit more intense to work on alongside face the music (which is a more wholesome college au multi chapter fic). I'm very interested in exploring the 'what if' side of what happens to all the widows once they escape. I am also a sucker for feminist readings/feminine rage so this is a fun outlet. I have some plans for more ex-widow content (maybe longer series) but i wanted to get this mini-series up as a sort of taster! there isn't a heap of bucky barnes content in this part, but oh boy, there is some coming in the next part!! not proof read - pls forgive any typos.

main masterlist

Many unexpected things had happened during your life, even before you were old enough to understand how unexpected they were.

Firstly, you had been torn from your birth family at a young age. You never knew if your family had willingly given you up. You had heard tales of starving mothers, selling their children in order to survive. Other tales said that the mothers refused to sell their children. Though, a mothers love was not enough to sustain through the Russian winters. Those mothers died for the love of their children, but regardless their children were still taken by the Red Room.

Others whispered that the women of the Red Room were specifically chosen for their genetics, hunted down and stolen. There was no regard for a mothers love, only the possibility of another weapon to create.

Deep down you could hope that your mother had loved you.

You would never know.

The second unexpected thing to happen in your life was when you escaped. Much like the other Widows, you had spent most of your life under the control of men. You had been a weapon, faceless, deadly. You had survived the training that many didn’t and that was the only thing that made you of value. The discovery of a life beyond the Red Room? A life beyond what you had been crafted for? Freedom was more frightening than any mission or task you had undertaken.

With the Red Room gone, thanks to Yelena Belova and Natalia Alianovna? You were purposeless. You were a small ship, lost at sea. You were a small ball of rock, hurtling through space, burning up and dying out. There was no reason for you to exist, there was no life for you. You were a killer, a monster. Why did you deserve peace? How could you ever find peace with all the blood on your hands? You were raised to be a killer, and a killer you were.

In the Red Room you were The Shadow. A faceless sniper, one of the best in the world. You did your job, and you did it well. Even after you were freed, you continued to work as a sniper to find some meaning. You were good at disconnecting from your emotions. Taking the shot wasn’t one to sweat, you floated above your body and pulled that fucking trigger.

The people who hired you didn't know your name. They didn’t see your face. You were a weapon and you would kill without question. A father, a mother, a child? It didn’t make a difference to you. It was just another target. Even if you were free from Dreykov, you were still the weapon he had built you to be. As much as you tried, as much as you fought, screamed and cried. You were a Widow, a faceless killer, a nobody, a Shadow.

The third unexpected thing to happen in your life was Yelena Belova. She was a force, hurtling into your life. You had never expected it. You thought once she freed all the Widow's it would be over. She wouldn’t need to associate with her fellow Widows anymore. She was a hero, she made it big. She would become an Avenger like Natalia. Start over, fresh face, new name. Natalia, Natasha. She had been a hero, she had freed all of the Widows. You? You were a gun for hire, bottom of the barrel scum.

Yet, there Yelena had stood, reaching out to pull you from the snake pit.

You had been hired for an inside job, some drug deal with the potential to go very wrong. You were to keep watch, blow out the brains of their competitor if necessary. You didn’t think into the ethics, you just shot who you were told to shoot. You should’ve known Yelena would keep tabs on you, you should’ve known that day would come. Even if you were nameless and faceless, you were still a weapon. The world doesn’t just lose weapons, no, they either used them or prayed for their untimely death.

The deal went messy, as anticipated. You went to shoot but a foot was on your rifle making you pause.

“You’re getting sloppy, Shadow.” The blonde had tutted at you. “I have been standing here, for what? Two minutes? You didn’t even see me.”

You didn’t know why her speaking Russian shocked you so much. You had spent so many years dealing with Americans and Europeans that you had slipped into the comfort of English too easily. You had just assumed that the world of superheroes had Americanised Yelena, like they had Natasha. But there she was, Yelena fucking Belova in the flesh. Your third unexpected thing.

“Come to tell me off for being a bad girl, Belova?” You teased, hand subtly finding the knife at your thigh out of instinct. You doubted Yelena had come here to kill you, you had heard through the grapevine about her little mission. She had spent two years freeing Widows across the globe. Though, you couldn’t help but notice that Yelena was armed to the teeth. Knives and guns tucked into hidden pockets through her black suit. You had heard she had become an Avenger - well atleast what was left of the team. Stepping into Natasha's role, she wanted to do good so bad. You could never be that, a hero. You weren’t meant to be anything other than another man’s blade or bullet.

After Steve Rogers death, the Avengers had spiraled for a time. Eventually, Sam Wilson had taken up the mantle. A few had followed, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, his protégé Kate Bishop as well as Yelena. You didn’t even know if they called themselves ‘The Avengers’ anymore, only that they acted like them. Seemed they were running off the left-overs of Stark’s money as well as government funding. You had heard rumors about Scott Lang or even Steven Strange still floating around. After Wanda Maximoff had gone near-insane, the world had turned a cruel eye on their heroes. Even if they had been the only ones to save them from The Blip. People - your people - they didn’t want to be classed as heroes anymore, but somehow they were still committed to ‘doing good’.

“I could tell you off,” Yelena drawled, eyes following your every move. You were on your knees now, slowly rising from the lying position you had held. If Yelena was a predator, you were certainly her prey. Unfortunately for her, you were also a predator when cornered. Outside, you could hear gunshots overlapping each other, shouting and grunting. It hurt that it annoyed you, that Yelena would be inadvertently ruining your reputation. You always made the shot, always. Except this time. You supposed being held up by Yelena fucking Belova was a better excuse than missing your shot. No, now that would be embarrassing and reputation destroying. The Shadow missing a shot? Unheard of.

“I want to offer you a job. Could be a one time thing, could be more. Pays better than whatever this is, and is certainly more legal than whatever this is.” Yelena continues her spiel. She had palmed a knife, waving it as she spoke for extra effect. It was a hunting knife, sharpened to perfection. You didn’t like to imagine how the serrated edge would feel cutting into your flesh.

“Your jobs barely qualify as legal,” You snip back, carefully eyeing her movements. Was she signaling someone through the window? The glare of the sun against the blade would surely be visible outside. There could be an entire team outside waiting to take you down. Yelena could just be the distraction. Your hand tightens around the handle of your own knife, ready to pull it from its holster at the slightest indication of an ambush.

“Everything is legal if you work for the right people,” Yelena cuts back, tilting her head as she observes you. Time was ticking, you knew this could go one of two ways. You really hoped it wouldn’t end with one of you bleeding out on the floor. You had respect for Yelena, for what she and Natasha had done.

“What if I say no?” You ask, russian muffled through your mask. You always wore them on jobs, always. You were a faceless weapon, mixing your identity in would not help you shoot better. Yelena smirks at you, finger running down the blade of her knife. She looked so casual, leaning against the window sill without a care in the world. She was definitely better armed than you. Your ears strain, trying to hear if someone is climbing the stairs of the building. All you can hear is the scuffle of the deal downstairs in the alley.

“The government is interested in you. They don’t have a name yet, just… a shadow of a person to look for. Ex-Widow, a hired gun. I can make it go away. I know powerful people.” You could see her teeth through her smirk as she spoke. It was a thinly veiled threat. Pull your shit together, you’ve drawn too much attention to yourself. No, this was the difference between you and Yelena. She had cared, she had become the hero she had needed. You had stayed the same monster, spiraled further into your own hatred and disgust. You had become the person people needed saving from. Yelena cared so much about every Widow that the idea of one slipping through the cracks? It would haunt her. She was warning you, giving you a way out. She wanted to help you.

The shouting and gunshots outside had died down, now only the sound of several sirens approaching. Time was still ticking and you were running out.

“Make your choice quickly, Shadow. Make it wisely though, I really don’t want to kill you.” Yelena purred. You eyed her for a long moment, carefully getting to your feet. Despite her cold exterior, the way she tried to be intimidating… You could see the pleading in her eyes. She wanted you to come with her, she wanted to help you. But you couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved saving?

So many years, so many dead bodies. The only thing that kept you going was your strength, your reluctance to die. But after so many years of running, so many years of being alone… was there a reason to keep fighting? That sickness, it clawed away in your brain. You didn’t deserve saving.

The sirens drew nearer. Reluctantly, you spoke. Even if that sickness was strong, your stubbornness and desire to breathe was stronger. You would live out of spite. You would live just to spit in the faces of those who wanted you dead. If you were going to die, it would be on your own terms.

“Who am I shooting?” You ask, reaching out your gloved hand for Yelena to shake. Yelena must feel some kind of relief, you see her shoulders droop every-so-slightly as she shakes your hand.

“That list seems to be endless these days.” She replies with a grin.

—

The small rural town was desolate. A ghost town, Yelena had said. A ghost town that had become infested with vermin.

Remnants of society still remained. You could imagine the ghosts of people passing by as you navigated through the landscape. A cracked concrete road, overgrown with weeds. The apartment buildings with their windows smashed out, graffiti scrawled across crumbling stone. Billboards years out of date, forgotten band-posters peeling off walls and lampposts. You couldn’t say who once lived here - but whoever they were, they were most certainly gone or dead.

You were positioned on the second-floor of a disintegrating school house. The building itself was several stories higher but you had taken one look at the unstable staircase and thought better of it. Ripped, stained curtains blew lightly in the wind, at the front of the room a cracked blackboard still had the date July 17th, 1994 scrawled across it.

You were in your usual working gear. Your suit was tight and flexible for ease of movement, adorned with pads on the knees, elbows and shoulders. Your hands were clothed with fingerless gloves and most importantly you wore your mask. A belt holds a handgun, lower down some straps across your thighs hold knives and pockets for convenience. They were for if things got messy, your real weapon was tossed over your back - a duffle bag with your sniper rifle inside.

Broken glass crunched under your combat boots as you cautiously approached the window. The building you had chosen was strategic. Across from you was an old office building, just as run down as the one you stood in. Unlike the school house, the old office housed a group of criminals.

Sam Wilson had insisted that he didn’t want to kill them, that he just wanted to talk to them. He wanted to talk them down and tell them to surrender peacefully. If things turned messy, he would give you the signal and you would shoot. The two groups would be standing in the concrete courtyard between the two buildings. At the slightest chance of danger, the slightest chance they weren’t ready to surrender? You would pull the trigger and pop their leader's skull open.

Sam Wilson and his crew hadn’t been happy to see you when Yelena had brought you to the aircraft for transport. He had taken one look at you, masked, all in black and imploded.

“Yelena, who the hell is this?” Sam had snapped. Yelena had just laughed at him, motioning for you to sit and buckle in next to her on the aircraft.

“You told me to get a sniper!”

It seemed when Sam Wilson had asked for a sniper, he hadn’t asked for you. Ex-widow, criminal, The Shadow. When Yelena had introduced you with your alias, Kate Bishop had gaped at you. Bucky Barnes was tense, you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t recognised your name. Clint Barton seemed neutral, you supposed he was used to dealing with deadly women.

You found it ironic how upset Sam Wilson was. He had helped Steve Rogers save Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier. You supposed the difference was that Barnes had tried to change when he was freed. Despite the mind control, the torture… he wanted to do good. You were just damaged beyond repair. Sitting there, with those heroes? It made you feel sick. Playing dress up, that’s all it was.

You had over 700 confirmed kills with your rifle, even more kills if you counted other weapons at your disposal. You were an assassin, a hitwoman, a fucking menace. Bucky Barnes would have more total kills than you, but he had stopped killing. He had felt remorse. You had kept killing, kept digging that hole because it was all you knew how to do. He had been a normal boy before the war. You were a killing machine, a girl robbed of a childhood. If you hadn’t been freed, would have even known about the childhood you had missed? You didn’t remember your mother, nor if you had any siblings. All you had known was cruelty.

Brushing some of the broken glass away with your foot, you began setting up your rifle. Through the ear-piece you could hear the chatter of the rest of the team as they headed to their spot. You had gone ahead to set up, they were about 20 minutes away from the school house. Gun at the ready, you lay down on your stomach, eye to the scope.

“In position, over.” You mutter into the ear piece.

“Copy that, over.” Sam Wilson replied quickly.

You settled into your spot, watching the building ahead. You were a good sniper not only because of your ability to disconnect, but also because of your levels of patience. You had spent days in this exact position, waiting, sweating for your chance at a target.

By the time the others were in position, you had counted every window in the building across from you. 25 per story, making it 125 all together for all 5 stories. There was movement on the bottom floor and the second. You assumed they didn’t go any higher due to the same reason as you - a crumbling staircase. Each window had blue curtains - different to the beige ones in your room. Nearly all the windows were smashed, except for on the top story that seemed to remain relatively untouched.

Through the ear-piece you could hear what Sam was saying. Both groups stood in the center of the courtyard, hands on their undrawn weapons. The new generation of Avengers were outnumbered 5 to 1. The tenison was clear, even as Sam tried joking around with the opposing leader. Everything was going smoothly, exactly as planned. That was, until you saw a glint in one of the third story windows.

You thought you imagined it at first - a trick of the eye. But then you saw it again, and then a third time. There was another sniper, trained directly on Sam Wilson. You didn’t feel stressed by this, it was just another complication in a high-tension mission. It made sense, you had anticipated that maybe your targets would be smart enough to bring a sniper to this ‘talk’. The other sniper was up slightly higher than you - you wouldn’t be able to get a good hit on him unless you went up another couple stories.

“There’s a sniper, third story. Sixth window to the left.” You breathed into the comms, fully knowing the rest of the team wouldn’t be able to verbally respond. If the opposing side got any indication that you were up there? Game over. They would signal their sniper to take the shot on Sam. It would take hours to pick bits of his skull out of their clothes and hair.

“I need to change positions to get a better look, keep him talking.” You continue. Slowly, you roll away from the window and drag your gun with you. You needed to keep to the shadows, become a shadow literally. If the sniper spotted you it would be over.

With a quiet grunt, you pull the gun from the room. Pressing your back against the hallway wall, you quickly rise to your feet and head towards the staircase with a huff. Sam was still rambling on about peaceful surrender over the comms ear-piece, stalling until you could get a better look at the sniper.

The stairs wobbled and shook as you moved up them quickly and quietly as possible. You could hear chunks of wood and stone crumbling from beneath and falling with each step you took. Opting for the 4th story, you quickly set up in position by a new window. Same torn, beige curtains and shattered glass across the floor.

From this position you had a better look into the third story windows. Looking down, you could see the outline of a body laid flat with the rifle, much like your own position. Due to the broken windows and ripped curtains, you had a fairly clear shot at the figures head as they trained all their focus on what was happening below.

“I’m going to shoot the sniper first, he has a shot on you Wilson. I’ll still have a clear shot on the target, just might take a moment.” You explain. They don’t reply, as expected. The situation below seems to be growing tense, you can hear the tone of the target's voice growing more aggressive by the second. Lining up your shot on the sniper, you hold your breath. Sam says the signal word.

You pull the trigger.

As the shot rings out, the men below scatter. You can hear the rest of the team screaming at you through your ear-piece. It all gets jumbled up, just white noise in your brain as you line up your next shot. This was why you usually worked alone. You didn’t crack under pressure in a situation like this, but having screaming ringing in your ear was bringing you damn near to it. You can’t be bothered listening to what they are yelling about. You didn’t need them telling you that your target was seconds away from escaping your bullet. Didn’t they know you never missed?

The target was a few feet away from the safety of the building. Chunks of flesh, skull and brains explode across the cracked concrete as you pull the trigger once more. Through the scope, you watch the body slump to the ground, a pool of blood quickly spreading around the corpse.

“Holy shit!” You hear Kate yell through the ear-piece. You don’t know if she’s complementing your shot or reacting to the spray of blood up the side of the opposite building. The last of the men who scattered stepped over the body, disappearing into the office building.

“There's another headed for the sniper rifle, Shadow!” Yelena shouts at you through comms. Her and Clint have breached the office, you can see the shape of them fighting through the broken windows.

“Got it,” You mutter back. You cast a glance at where Sam and Bucky were fighting out in the open. Bucky seems swarmed, trying to shake a man who has wrapped his arms around his throat. You make a silent note of it, casting your scope back to the third story window. The figure that rushes to replace the dead man is quickly taken out by your rifle. He doesn't even get a chance to touch the rifle before his blood paints the wall behind him.

No one else makes a dash for the sniper rifle. You turn your gaze back to the courtyard, noticing that Bucky is still swarmed by several men. Sam has been pulled too far away from him to help. You can’t see Kate anymore, but from the yelling coming through the comms she is inside the office with Clint and Yelena.

One of the opposers has picked up a hand-gun and is pointing it squarely at Bucky’s chest as he struggles to get out of the grip of the other men holding him down. Sam barrels towards them, but you know he won’t make it in time. You huff out a sigh, lining up the dangerous shot. You knew if this bullet was at the slight wrong angle it could ricochet directly into Bucky’s chest.

Is this why Yelena hired you? Because you would make dangerous shots without permission, without regard for human life? Bucky was a super soldier, he could probably survive several gunshot wounds (provided they weren’t directly to the head). Maybe if you cared you would’ve been nervous. Maybe you would’ve hesitated, let your hands shake and sweat. But you don’t care. You disconnect from everything, the shouting through the comms, the sounds of gunshots, the feeling of metal against your skin. You’re not in your body, you are floating above yourself watching the auto-pilot take over.

You squeeze the trigger. The hand-gun clatters to the ground alongside the attacker. Blood is slick against the paved stones. Through your scope, you swear it has splattered across Bucky’s gruff face. The men attacking Bucky stutter for a moment, giving him the opportunity to shake them off and pummel them with his metal fist.

He doesn’t even acknowledge what you did.

He doesn’t even say thank you.

—

One job turned into two. Then two turned into a few more.

Six months you had been working with Yelena and her crew of disgraced Avengers. You weren't their friends. You didn’t celebrate after missions with them. You kept to yourself, cold and distant. They didn’t know your real name, they hadn’t even seen your face. Yelena would give you a call, pick you up, you would complete the mission, then you would return home.

You were The Shadow.

You weren’t a hero.

Kate and Yelena tried to crack your shell. It usually involved joking and parading around you. All it would earn them was a roll of the eyes and a quiet sigh. Over the comms though, sometimes you would make quiet digs and quips. Clint would roar with laughter, Sam just muttering that he was surprised you had a personality under that mask.

The mask. Oh, they hated it.

They were all determined to see beneath it. They made up jokes, stories as to why you wore it. That you were hideously ugly, or scarred beyond human recognition. Bucky seemed to be the only one who understood. He was the only one who was equally as cold to you as you were to him. Your exchanges were brief, usually a series of single words and grunts. It was a relief having someone not trying for your affection at all times.

Once again, you and your deadly skills were needed for a mission. Another one of Sam’s ‘discussions’ which usually ended with brains splattered across the floor. This time you were in a lightly forested clearing, somewhere in the Estonian wilderness. You were set up in the tree line, laying in a mixture of mud and dead leaves.

The countryside was peaceful, but gray. Winter was setting in, leaves falling from the birch trees. Their pale trunks were pale against the gray sky that threatened to spill. The breeze was cool, not as cold as Russia had been. No, a Russian winter could be deadly especially the further north you got. You remembered the snow, the discomfort of the cold leaking into your bones. You hadn’t been allowed to complain then, only soldier on.

“You in position, Shadow?” Yelena asked through the comms. You could see her lips moving through the scope as the group headed towards the designated meeting point.

“Affirmative. Over.” You state, pushing the ear-piece in a bit further as you settle closer to the cold earth. Relaxing your shoulders with a sharp breath, you surveyed the area through your scope.

A small group of men had come to meet the team. There were less men than you had anticipated, if a fight ensued it would be one on one. You didn’t like the opponents odds, they looked scruffy, only armed with low-caliber weapons. Definitely not the type to take on a group of superheroes and super soldiers.

You felt dread sink into your stomach. Something… felt wrong here. Your target reportedly had tons of men at his disposal. It was deep into the Italian mafia, and if they had anything, it was an abundance of men. Where were they all? Was this an ambush? Were they hidden in the brush like you? You could take down a few targets, but you would be more successful with your knives and fists against a small army. Your mind races, along with your gaze as you try to piece it all together.

“There is something wrong.” You speak into the comms, eyes flickering between Sam and the target as they stood in front of each other. You had done plenty of jobs with the group, all had gone smoothly. But something… something was terribly off here. You could feel it in your gut. The targets men looked antsy, shifting in place. They knew something. They were anticipating something.

“There’s not enough men. I can’t spot them anywhere in the treelines. Either he’s stupid or this is a set-up.” You ramble into the ear-piece. They can’t respond to you, but you can tell they’re paying attention to your warning. Yelena’s eyes sweep the area, trying to spot more men hidden away somewhere.

Then, from behind you, you hear the snap of a twig. You spin around, hand flying to your knife. Across from you stand a group of men, armed with shotguns. They’re close, closer than you had realized. You had been too busy trying to figure out where all the men were, trying to anticipate the ambush. You hadn’t realized their ambush was against you.

This was why you didn’t make friends. Connections. You were too busy worrying about them to realize the immediate danger you were in. The butt of a shotgun cracks against the side of your head.

Everything goes black.

—

The mud was cold underneath you, biting into your skin. Your hands were tied, and throughout the intermittent black-outs you recalled being dragged through the dead leaves. You must have been stripped of your weapons, you couldn’t feel the metal of your knives and gun digging in anymore.

You were bleeding from a head wound, and you were definitely suffering from some kind of concussion. You had touched that throbbing spot with your fingers, rubbing the slick feeling of blood between them. Even through the fabric of your mask, you could feel the sticky blood had spread down the side of your face and neck. A gun was pressed to the back of your skull.

How many men had there been? Had you had a chance to count before you were struck? Had you managed to warn the others before the ear-piece was shattered by the strike? You could still feel bits of plastic and metal digging into your ear along with a high-pitched ringing. You weren’t sure if the ringing was from the ear-piece or from the hit you had received.

“You really thought I would stand in the open like this? Like a fool?” Your target joked, his Italian accent thick as he laughed heartily. You were kneeling next to him, eyes warily looking between him and the rest of your group who stood across from you. Sam and Bucky looked less than pleased, lips pressed together in tight lines.

“Rumors have been all through the underground, The Avengers somehow managed to recruit The Shadow?” He continues, still laughing. “Only an idiot would put himself in the open. Taking a chance with The Shadow is asking to have your skull blown open. I am no fool, but maybe you are? Thinking that I would fall for your trick?”

You can see Yelena trying to keep her cold face on, the one she had given you when she recruited you. It may have fooled the opposition, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She surveyed the mountain of men behind you like she was looking at her next meal. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the back of your skull.

“We didn’t come here to kill you, we came here to negotiate your peaceful surrender.” Sam spoke up, voice gruff and cold. Behind him, you watched Clint’s fingers ghost over the string of his bow.

“Surrender? Why do you bring a sniper to a peaceful negotiation?” The Italian purred, motioning at you with one hand. His fingers were lined with gold rings, they caught the sunlight through the clouds. He had a gun tucked into his belt, a knife holstered on his hip.

“You know why. Things get messy. Now, we can still negotiate. You let her go and you hand over your weapons. You will be arrested unharmed, along with all of your men. You’ll face a fair trial for your crimes, a chance at a fresh start.” Sam explained. You could practically hear the target losing interest during Sam’s spiel. You watched him fidget impatiently with those golden rings, the way his men shifted uncomfortably behind you.

“No no.” Your target chuckled, running his fingers over his bushy black mustache. With the swish of his hand, he dismissed the man holding the gun to your head. His hands then found the back of your neck, tugging you to your feet. Fingers under your chin, he forces you to look into his eyes. “Why would I let her go? I didn’t come here to play games with you, Wilson. I came here because I wanted her. Because I knew she would be here.”

You resisted a flinch as his fingers dug into the skin of your neck, slipping it under the fabric of your mask. With one tug, he pulled the fabric from your face. This had not been the way you had expected this to happen, the way you would reveal your face to the team. You didn’t want them to feel some kind of connection to you, or any kind of guilt if this ended with a bullet in your skull.

If you had been able to look, you would’ve seen their shocked faces. How they quickly turned to rage on your behalf. You would’ve seen how Bucky’s eyes darted between looking at you and the ground, like he was witnessing something forbidden.

You imagined you were a sight, blood smeared across your skin from the head wound. Your hair had been perfectly woven into a crown braid, just like how they taught you in the Red Room. It would be lopsided now, chunks pulled out of place and flyaways from being roughly tugged across the ground. That and the layers of mud caked into your clothing.

“You know, Dreykov would sometimes leant out Widows to important men like me. You were all so beautiful and you all did exactly what you were told. Made to deliver pleasure. So many men, they would ask for you. To get a glimpse at the mysterious Shadow of the Red Room. Dreykov would never let us have you…

We would wonder if it was because you were hideously ugly? If you had been scarred like his dear Antonia? But looking at you now, you are as beautiful as I imagined. I can’t help but wonder if Dreykov wanted to keep you for himself? He always said you had too much bite for your worth.”

Gaze still cast at the Italian, you don’t see the team's reaction to this. You wouldn't have seen Yelena's composure slip, how Sam clenched his fist in rage. Instead you stared, silent fury boiling beneath your skin.

“I wonder how it will feel to break you?” The target hissed. He watched as your blank expression slowly turned into a sneer. Without much thought, you spit a mixture of saliva and blood into his face with a ragged laugh.

His face contorted in rage, reaching for the gun in his belt. You don’t dodge, willingly letting him strike you across the face with the metal. You stumble backwards, falling to your knees in the mud. Your lip is definitely split, blood dripping to the ground below you. You’re still laughing though, much to the collective horror of everyone. Sam opens his mouth to speak, to demand your release but you cut him off.

“You men, you are so emotional. You’re so busy pulling out your cock to piss all over everything that you don’t see the small details.” You seeth at the target. He stares at you in shock, completely oblivious to what you have done. What you are about to do. His men, even your group don’t anticipate what is to come next.

“What are the smaller details?” The target asks, you can sense misguided amusement in his tone.

You don’t reply. He doesn’t have a chance against you. You had already slipped out of your binds. He was so caught up trying to strike you, trying to prove himself a big and scary man, he hadn’t felt it. Your nimble fingers had wrapped around the knife on his hip, he hadn’t noticed how you had ripped it from its holster as you fell backwards.

The Italian doesn’t get a chance to take another breath before you snap forwards, striking like a snake. You dig the blade into his thigh, purposefully nicking his artery. Blood gushes from the wound the moment you pull the blade back out.

Things seem to move in slow motion - you see him react - eyes opening in horror and shock as he stumbles back. You are still on your knees, a feral smirk across your face. His gun lifts, intending to shoot but he is too late. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull the gun to the side just as he pulls the trigger.

The bang deafens you for a moment, ears ringing. The bullet grazes your ear, then lands directly into the stomach of one of his men behind you. The man wails, falling backwards, knocking a few more of the men off their feet in the process. You move quickly, using your body weight to twist the target's arms, flipping him onto his side into the mud.

The gun falls to the earth with a thud. Your target doesn’t even get a glance at it before you’ve kicked it away in Sam’s direction. The Italian man groans on his back as he bleeds out. You get to your feet, ignoring the panicked shouts from his men beside you as you observe him.

“You’re bleeding out from your femoral artery.” You explain to him roughly, tilting your head. His hair is thick, black and greasy. A sheen of sweat has come over his pale skin, eyes glazed over.

“On average it takes two to five minutes to bleed to death from that artery. That’s if you don’t fall unconscious first. Let’s count, shall we? You spent…around thirty seconds swinging that gun around…another thirty listening to me talk…” You drawl.

Stepping closer, you crouch next to his shivering body. He is trying to stop the bleeding, pressing shaking hands to the open wound. Blood has already begun to pool around him, ruby red and slick. You tut, pushing his hands away with the knife to watch the blood spurt out faster.

“You have, what? A couple minutes left? Now tell me, before you slip away… When you see God, what will you tell him?” You ask, a feral expression still across your face as you watch his skin grow gray.

“You fucking bitch!” Your target manages to choke out. You laugh, standing and swinging the knife around.

“Oho, I don’t think he’ll like that.” You say. An almost animalistic growl leaves your throat as you raise your foot, kicking him squarely in the nose with your boot. He cries out, bone crunching. For a moment you stand there, watching the sniveling man.

With a sniff, you run your hand roughly over your cheek, wiping some of the blood from your skin. Then, your gaze falls on the group of men left. They are watching you in silent horror. You can’t imagine what you look like, covered in blood and mud, armed with only a hunting knife. You assess them with a predator's gaze, menacing and bloodthirsty and the men cower back despite being armed with guns.

“We don’t want any trouble.” One stutters out.

For a moment, you forget the rest of your team are feet away. You consider letting the wrath consume you. You could tear these men apart with your hands, teeth and nails. You imagine plucking out their eyes, teaching them what happens to men who see your face.

“Shadow.” Yelena calls you. Your eyes snap to hers.

Pulled from your trance, you run a tongue over your split lip. The act is near animalistic, a cat tending its wounds. Then, with a shrug sent in Sam’s direction you stalk over to Yelena. Sam, to his credit, quickly composes himself and instructs the group of men to drop their weapons and line up.

“Are you alright?” Yelena asks as you pause in front of her. You don’t feel like answering that question right now.

If it weren’t for the cold wrath that had taken over your body, you would imagine you would be shaking. Men like that made your skin crawl, made you revert back to how you had felt in the Red Room. It made you sick to your stomach, knowing that despite everything men like that still existed. You would kill one man and another would grow in his place. You had been lucky to escape. That no matter what, there would always be more places like the Red Room. Even if they weren’t to breed killers and spies, they would still use the bodies of women. Powerful men would use their authority to control innocent girls for the rest of time. Those girls couldn't all be saved. They wouldn’t be saved.

“I need to retrieve my gun.” You reply thickly, nodding your head in the direction of the treeline. Your knives and other gear would have also been abandoned nearby, that’s if the men hadn’t pocketed it for themselves.

“Go ahead.” Yelena says, thankfully not pressing you on your emotional state. She seems to sense your unease and your unwillingness to hang around. You pass by her and a gaping Kate. You needed to clear your head before you faced the rest of them. With the mask, you could hide your emotions. Now, without it, you felt exposed. You wouldn’t let them see you crack. They would have been trained to sense the slightest change in your facial expressions, to be able to interpret exactly how you were feeling.

“Shadow?” Yelena calls, you glance over your shoulder reluctantly.

“Yeah?”

“Nice to finally see you. The real you.” She says, a subtle grin tugging at her lips.

All you can do is hum in response. Though, as you trudge towards the tree line, a small smile forms over your bloodied face.

PART TWO

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httpiastri · 5 months ago

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COLLEGE!PAUL HAS ME PACING AROUND IN CIRCLES ‼️‼️ HE'S SO 'SO HIGH SCHOOL' CODED IT HURTS

Ok ok so LET ME COOK ✋👩‍🍳

imagine a stem/medicine major who's like super shy and introverted getting pulled into a party unwillingly by her friends and you retreat to a corner and SURPRISE ITS COLLEGE!PAUL and she's just like "wtf??? shouldn't you be outside with the girls?????" and he literally could not give two shits about this party because he was also dragged into it 😭 he immediately went to a corner to isolate himself from the chaos until he meets YOU and he's immediately like "oh shit, she's really pretty" BUT IT DOESNT GO SMOOTHLY 😭

a little bit of miscommunication and character flaw makes you have a prejudice against Paul because he gives off the conventionally attractive playboy jock vibes and you avoid those kinds of people with YOUR ENTIRE BEING so you dislike him off the bat and he is intrigued by you yet somehow has the social skills of a carrot 😰 shenanigans happen (maybe you both have the same general education class or club) and he tries to impress you yet somehow EVERYTHING GOES WRONGG because he literally does not know anything except how to ball 😭 so you begrudgingly help him until you also slowly fall for him and catch yourself falling for him and go "OH NO I FELL FOR A JOCK" which goes against every principal you have but he's somehow so endearing and also so relatable at the same time.

like he's the complete polar opposite in all of his skills and talents yet he's nearly exactly the same with preferences, he's shy, not really that talkative and he'd totally be chill sitting in silence for hours with you just studying and him basking in your presence

the grand reveal would be so wholesome and fluffy because you'd never expect him to fall for anyone but you but he'd say something like "it's always been you" and AAAAAAAAAA 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

tl;dr I love college/jock!paul so much it hurts

- ☄️

oh my goddddd you really did cook with this one 🤭 college!paul is such a loveable mess... and i love love the whole opposites attract trope (though ik you wrote abt the reader being shy and introverted too so its not the exact same but still) and especially when it comes to paul being more shy/gentle than you'd expect. and then the miscommunication 🥲 *chefs kiss*

paul also being dragged along to the party is so funny 😭 he really is the "just let me do my sport and then go home and chill" dude – until he meets her... bcs suddenly he's more intrigued and wants to see her in the dining hall etc... not that he actually knows that to do when he does see her lmao 😭 ("yet somehow has the social skills of a carrot" KILLED ME) but yes definitely, imagine having a study session together and he's like "yes this is my chance. i need to get to know her/ask her out/anything" and he just. freezes. and for some reason you even find him endearing?? like usually you hate all things jock/frat/etc but paul is so ???? and it takes some time but you finally begin to break down his guard little by little.....

and "it's always been you" killed me again 😭 bestie my tears are on you

#college!paul pls give me a chance 🥺#so sweet and so cute #im just a mess bcs of this #asks!#anon!#comet anon!#☄️!#college!paul #paul thoughts

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purplehairedwonder · 2 years ago

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Chapter 1082: Setting the Stage

Wait, so you expect me just to... move on from 1081? That’s rude. I’m still in mourning 😭

Sigh. Fine.

On a lighter note, the cover illustration this chapter is adorable.

It made me smile, which I desperately needed after the devastation of last chapter.

On to the chapter, which continues to set the stage for the race for Laugh Tale:

We see the first major casualty of Cross Guild: T-Bone.

It’s interesting that of all the Marines that could have become victim to the Cross Guild bounties, it’s T-Bone, one of the few genuinely good ones. That shows that, for all fandom was cracking up at the idea of Cross Guild pulling a Reverse Uno card on the Marines by putting bounties on them, it’s actually quite a damaging thing to do. It’s a stark reminder that these people we’re following, have, in some cases, come to feel affection for, are pirates.

Perhaps it’s inevitable T-Bone would become a victim of the Cross Guild bounties; when we first met him back in Water 7, he’s described like this:

His hobby is saving people and he’s willing to do anything to help others “even if it destroys this body of [his].” When we see the man who apparently killed him for his bounty, he’s utterly pathetic:

His family was starving to death; it’s easy to imagine T-Bone willingly giving himself up so this man could claim his bounty for his family’s sake considering what we’ve seen of the man. But now the Marines are down one of their best men and are worse off for it.

Speaking of Marines, it’s also good to see Sengoku and Tsuru. They chat about the danger Cross Guild represents to the Marines before Hina drops a bomb on them:

I have to wonder if we’ll see Sengoku and/or Tsuru follow after Garp to Hachinosu. Tsuru has her granddaughter to think about while Sengoku has his close friend--and, though he doesn’t know it yet, Blackbeard has just wiped out the crew of his sort-of grandson. Moreover, it’s possible Blackbeard recovered the Hearts and brought them back to Hachinosu as prisoners. Wouldn’t that be interesting to see Sengoku faced with Law’s crew?

Meanwhile, we also get some great comedic relief with the Buggy vs. Mihawk and Crocodile dynamic.

The Cross Guild ship is hilarious.

And Buggy knows that’s not going to sit well with Mihawk and Crocodile.

He’s right.

Interesting that Mihawk says they need to establish overwhelming power when we just saw two captains worth 3 billion defeated and possibly in need of new direction. What did Law say back on Punk Hazard about surviving in the New World? You either join an Emperor or you try to become one.

I have a hard time imagining Law aligning himself with this group (even if he would fit the whole former Warlord vibe; Law’s far more likely to reunite with the Straw Hats, I think) but Kid? (Assuming he survived, of course. This is One Piece, so I feel pretty safe in that assumption.) Kid’s going to want revenge against Shanks for destroying his crew, and who better to get him close to Shanks than Buggy?

We also get some further elaboration on the grudge Buggy has been holding against Shanks -- and it’s completely unexpected.

Buggy thought Shanks was going to follow in Roger’s footsteps, but when Shanks decided to hold off, Buggy felt betrayed. This is... weirdly wholesome? And earnest? Like, Buggy had so much faith in Shanks as Roger’s successor that Shanks not immediately going for Laugh Tale comes across as a betrayal. Buggy is disappointed in Shanks.

(It’s also interesting to consider how Shanks and Buggy are the inverse of one another. Shanks is the strong head of a notoriously weak fleet while Buggy is the comedic relief figurehead of a group of more powerful pirates.)

So, Buggy decides he’s going to do what Shanks refused to do for all those years.

Why does Buggy, of all people, have me up in my feels now? Rude.

A lot has been said about Blackbeard being a dark parallel to Luffy, but Buggy has his own parallels to our favorite rubber boy. Back at Marineford, Mihawk noted what Luffy’s true strength is:

And Buggy has a similar ability, which he puts to use in this chapter:

So, at this point we’re seeing all four Emperors making moves toward finding the One Piece.

Meanwhile, surprising absolutely no one, Sabo is fine:

He wasn’t on Lulusia when it was blown up; he was evacuating some people from Lulusia who wanted to join the Revolutionary Army. We’re on the verge of learning what really happened at Reverie...

So, any bets on how many chapters it’ll take to return to Sabo’s story?

(Anyway, I’m going to crawl back into my hole and continue crying about Law, Bepo, and the Hearts.)

#Buggy the Clown #Sengoku #Tsuru #Dracule Mihawk #Crocodile #Shanks #Sabo #Cross Guild #One Piece #One Piece 1082 #One Piece chapter 1082 #One Piece spoilers #One Piece 1082 spoilers #Chapter write-up

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hairstevington · 2 years ago

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i can't tune you out (part 3)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley x Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: Eddie and Chrissy become friends. Robin and Chrissy bond. Eddie and Steve strike a deal.

(part 1, part 2)

Word Count: 4.8K (it's a long one!)

Warnings: Rockstar!Eddie/Musician!Steve, modern day AU, enemies to lovers STILL very much enemies sorry I love a slow burn, Chrissy x Comphet, allusions to Chrissy having body issues, Hellcheer being wholesome, angst upon angst baybeeee, this chapter is very fun just bear with the boys absolutely despising each other lmao

A/N: Hello friends! From here on out, this fic will only be posted to my Ao3. If you're digging the story so far, go ahead and follow along here! To those that don't have accounts, I might be able to finesse some sort of system where I let you guys know when I've updated. Also, for those in need of Soft Steddie (tm), more "Flowers and Ink" is coming soon! Love y'all <3

Eddie got to the bar before Chrissy did, but he kind of preferred it that way. It gave him a chance to sit down, order a drink, and settle into the environment before being thrust into more chaos.

Sometimes, even though he thrived in insanity, he needed a moment to breathe. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud, of course.

“Hey, stranger!” Chrissy’s voice rang from behind him. He spun around and was surprised when she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He’d thought that she’d been extra sweet and friendly the night before because of the alcohol, but apparently that was just her vibe. It was actually really nice.

“H-hi, Chrissy,” Eddie replied, hugging her back. She pulled away after one last squeeze, then plopped herself beside him. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” she answered. “I was up all night, so I slept most of the day. Now, I’ll probably be up all night again. Such is life.”

“Been there,” Eddie replied, taking a sip of his drink.

“Can I get a vodka soda and two shots of tequila, please?” Chrissy asked the bartender.

“Tequila?” Eddie asked, attempting to hide the disgust on his face. He hadn’t touched the stuff in years, after one fateful night involving a playground. Helpful tip - being drunk on a swing set is not the move.

“Tequila,” Chrissy confirmed with a smirk. “I’m invested now, and considering this is our first of potentially many drinks together, I figured we should start off with a bang.”

Eddie stared at her, blankly. She wanted to see him again after this? But he hadn’t even really done anything!

“Why are you so invested in this?” Eddie asked.

“I dunno,” Chrissy replied with a shrug. The bartender put the vodka soda down in front of her, and she started mixing it around with the thin plastic straw. “I guess I’m just kinda…bored?”

“Bored?” Eddie repeated. “How could you be bored when you’re doing all the shit you do? Going to parties and photoshoots and - I mean, you barely know me.”

“My life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she responded. There was a flicker of sadness in her eyes, but it left as quickly as it had come. Chrissy sipped her drink, then thanked the bartender as she set the shots down. “Come on, let’s commemorate this!”

She took out her phone and gestured for Eddie to hold his drink up so they could take a picture. He was blown away by the whole thing, honestly. He almost texted Carla just to be like - can you believe this shit?

It all seemed too easy. She was too open to being his friend, and he didn’t know why. He’d worked hard and all that, but he didn’t feel like he was decent enough of a person to get any sort of karmic reward. So this all felt a little suspicious, but he tried to enjoy it anyway.

They did the shot. At least Chrissy had sprung for the high-quality liquor. It was still kinda nasty.

“How was the rest of the party?” he asked.

“Good,” Chrissy responded with a tight-lipped smile. She didn’t add any details, which was odd, but she spoke again before Eddie could ask any follow-up questions. “So, what’s the deal with you? People say you’re dating Steve, but you didn’t even know what he looked like last night, soooo…”

Alright, here we go.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie began. “I’m not dating him, clearly.” No sense in lying to Chrissy when she already knew.

“But you want to?” Chrissy asked. Eddie shrugged. He would have flat out told her the truth, but he was hesitant to give everything away immediately. Steve was the one with the power, and Eddie hated that. “Do I need to order us another shot?”

“Please, no,” Eddie shot back instantly. When Chrissy laughed, he realized she’d been joking. “Sorry, it’s just -”

“It’s okay,” Chrissy assured him. “Talking to people in this business is hard. You never know who you can trust. I used to be a lot more open, and then you kinda just learn that you…can’t be, most of the time.”

Eddie furrowed his brow, wondering what exactly Chrissy felt she couldn’t tell people. Even moreso, he wanted to know who had broken her trust in the past. Then, he felt a pang of guilt, since he’d been mostly excited about this drink because it would boost his fame. Everything about all of this was corrupt and morally ambiguous. He sighed.

“I’m just trying to make it out there,” Eddie admitted. “And I - I mean, I don’t know what to do, or how anything works.”

“Yeah, I remember what that’s like,” she empathized. She took a sip of her vodka soda, then turned back to Eddie. “Do you ever feel like -? I mean, do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind?”

“Uhhh, just on a daily basis,” Eddie replied. He and Chrissy smiled at each other, and he could feel her authenticity. Maybe it was stupid for him to open up to her, but he was going to do it anyway. “Chrissy, have you ever, uh - like, have you ever done one of those PR relationships?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replied, unfazed. “I can’t really say anything, but yeah. It happens a lot around here.” Eddie nodded, then sipped his drink. “Wait, are you trying to do that with me?”

“Not quite,” Eddie mumbled, his lips pressed to his glass.

“I thought you were gay,” she continued.

“I am.”

“Oh, okay.” She thought about it for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” she repeated. “Ohhhh!”

“Got any other letters?” Eddie teased. Chrissy giggled, then shoved him playfully.

“You’re funny,” she said. Eddie wasn’t used to people enjoying his often wicked sense of humor. This was refreshing. “So, who’s idea was it?”

“My manager, I guess,” Eddie answered. “Well, she told me to use what the fans were saying and to meet up with the guy. But it, uh - it didn’t go well.”

“No?” she asked, surprised. “What happened?”

Eddie wanted to keep talking to Chrissy. He didn’t care that she was famous anymore - he wanted her perspective as someone who’d been through it. He also knew that Chrissy could tear him down just as quickly as she could build him up.

“Did you mean what you said about us getting drinks more often?” he asked.

“Yeah!” she replied, smiling brightly. “Like I said, you’re funny. And I - hmm. Okay, um. This next part might sound really bad at first, but I can explain.”

“Okay…” Eddie said, feeling his walls come back up.

“I don’t really have a lot of male friends,” Chrissy admitted. “It always feels like - like they’re just waiting for their chance to strike.”

“Like, try to sleep with you?” Eddie asked. Chrissy nodded. “Oh. Christ, that sucks.”

“Yeah,” she replied with a half shrug.

He skipped the part where he doubted whether or not what she was saying was true, because it was clearly affecting her whether it was true or not. Eddie also had an urge to diffuse the tension with a joke, because that was kind of his thing.

“Chrissy Cunningham,” he stated, “- are you trying to make me your gay best friend?” She bit her lip, fighting a guilty smile. “Cuz like, I’m down, but I’ve never really done this before so I don’t know what the role entails.” She stopped fighting the smile, so Eddie continued. “I mean, is there a rulebook out there? I think there’s a movie about this on Netflix. Should I watch that first?”

“Eddie!” She interrupted, fully laughing now. Eddie joined her, feeling accomplished that he’d lightened the mood and set her at ease again. “I’m in the modeling industry, I’m surrounded by gay men all the time. It’s not just about that, I promise.”

“Okay, then what is it?” Eddie wondered. She sighed, her body much more relaxed than it had been before.

“It’s just that everybody I’m around talks about their looks all the time. I mean, it’s our job to be beautiful, I know that, but it’s tiring to just constantly hear about new diets and calories and what I should and should not eat. It’s just - it’s nice to get away from that, sometimes. You’re nothing like them, and I like that.”

“Nothing like them, huh?” Eddie smirked. “Are you saying I’m not beautiful?” She laughed and shook her head.

“Okay fine, you have one thing in common,” she teased back. “You’re not mad?”

“Nah,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “But while we’re coming clean, I definitely was excited to come here because I hoped I’d get more followers if we hung out.”

“Well, obviously,” Chrissy responded, flipping her hair. “Okay, so that’s out of the way. Can we stick together, then?”

She asked it so sweetly it made his heart ache.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he replied. He thought back to what Chrissy had said earlier about her model friends and decided to commit to being the opposite. “So, uh, I dunno about you but I could really go for some fries right now.”

Chrissy’s eyes widened.

“I’d kill for some fries right now.”

“Great,” he said, grinning. “Who are we killing?” They laughed together, and then he got the bartender’s attention so he could order.

“For the record, I’m not doing this for you.”

It took Robin less than two seconds to agree to going to the bar with Steve. Now, they were walking down the street so that they could spy on two people they barely knew but were somehow entangled with.

“I know, I know,” Steve replied.

The bar was in sight. Chrissy hadn’t tagged the location or anything, but he recognized the place because he went there often. So often that it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to show up with Robin. They’d done it before and they’d do it again.

The plan was for them to discreetly sit at a table in the back. But then they were at the door, and then they were opening the door, and then they were immediately being stared down by a blonde and a brunette at the bar.

Shit.

“Steve, what do we do?” Robin muttered rapidly.

“Uhhh,” he said, glancing over at the table he imagined they’d sit at. He thought about ignoring them and just sitting down, but they’d all already seen each other so that would have just been rude. “I think we just have to own it.”

“Own what? That we’re psychopaths?” Robin hissed.

And then, Chrissy was waving them both over to join them.

“Just follow my lead,” Steve said.

In hindsight, this plan had been really, really stupid.

Steve knew that his cover for all this was to get Robin and Chrissy in the same room again. But truthfully, Steve didn’t know Chrissy’s deal or if she wanted anything other than friendship. Steve could say this had nothing to do with Eddie all he wanted, but that wasn’t true.

He’d been wracking his brain all day to make sense of this. His fight with Eddie the night prior had been a little fuzzy, but one part of it really stuck with him.

Just a few years of King Steve bullying the school freak.

Well, that comment plus Eddie saying that Steve’s music sucked. That stung, but he wasn’t expecting someone like Eddie to appreciate his music anyway. The truth was, Steve had left high school behind, and he’d moved on, and he’d forgotten the shit he’d done back then. All that bystander crap, the teasing, the little comments that Steve didn’t understand the impact of at the time.

Steve didn’t like Eddie. He still thought Eddie was a dick. But that didn’t mean Steve hadn’t also been a dick back then.

All of this was very complicated, and the residual headache from the hangover made his head spin. Actually, the dizziness was probably also from the hangover. The thought of drinking made him want to hurl. Good thing he was at a bar, right?

“Hey!” Chrissy said as they approached. “What are you guys doing here?!” She jumped up to hug Steve, then Robin, and Steve watched as his friend acted as if the physical contact with her crush didn’t affect her.

“We, uh -” Steve began. “We come here a lot, actually. Well, I do. I live just down the road.”

His gaze drifted to Eddie, who gave Steve a knowing smirk.

“Oh my god, Robin, I’m actually so glad you’re here,” Chrissy said. “Your style is just - I mean, wow! Where do you get your clothes?”

Robin’s eyes landed on Steve’s for a nanosecond, but it was enough for him to know exactly what was going through her brain. Basically just the embodiment of a bunch of exclamation points.

“I - I usually thrift them, actually!” Robin responded.

Then, Chrissy continued asking where Robin thrifted, and whether she could come with sometime, and Steve figured they’d be at it for a while.

Huh. Maybe there would be something there after all.

Of course, while they were talking, this left Steve to either stand there awkwardly or interact with Eddie. He probably would have chosen the awkward standing, had Eddie not chosen the opposite.

“Well, if it isn’t HARVEST in the flesh. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie began. He was smiling, but his tone was biting. Steve looked at Eddie, nodded his head toward Chrissy and Robin, then looked back at Eddie. He shrugged. “Ah, I see.”

“Yeah.”

“No other reason?” Eddie prodded, playing dumb.

“Nope,” Steve said. “Like I said, I live right -”

“Down the road,” Eddie interrupted. “So I heard.” Steve swallowed. He kinda felt like he was being interrogated or something. Eddie was making this extremely uncomfortable.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve wondered, desperately wanting this interaction to be over. Unfortunately, Chrissy and Robin were still chatting eagerly.

“Like what, HARVEST?” Eddie asked. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Steve is fine.”

“Hmm, is he though?” Eddie retorted. “I don’t think you want me to treat you like I treat Steve.”

God, Eddie knew how to push Steve’s buttons. His heart was racing, he was so mad. He clenched his jaw and considered how bad it would be to smack the smug grin off Eddie’s face.

Really bad. He knew that. He took deep breaths instead and relaxed. His hands had balled into fists at some point during the conversation. He extended his fingers out, flexing them. He was trying to leave this version of himself in the past, not bring him back. Another deep breath.

“Whatever, Munson,” Steve sighed. “I just -”

“Hey, guys?” Robin said, diverting the attention to her. She pointed to the window, where a crowd of people had gathered.

Some of them had cameras.

“Shit,” Chrissy said. “How long do you think they’ve been there?”

“I dunno,” Steve responded. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Chrissy agreed. Eddie and Robin looked at each other this time, both outside of Chrissy and Steve’s shared understanding.

Good thing all of them looked nice. Those pictures were gonna be all over the place tomorrow.

Steve was here a lot, so he knew the bartenders and the owners, and he also knew how to sneak out when things like this happened.

“Come on,” he said, urging Chrissy to follow him. With Steve came Robin, and Eddie sure as hell didn’t want to be left there alone, so he came too. Oh, joy.

The four of them walked past the bar and through a sign marked for employees only. They wandered through the kitchen and left out a black door that led to an alley behind the building.

“So, what now?” Robin asked once they were outside.

“I’ll give them about two minutes until they find us,” Steve replied.

“Is there somewhere else we could go?” Chrissy wondered. “I kind of don’t want to go home yet.”

“Well, I know HARVEST over here lives nearby,” Eddie said.

“Will you quit it with the HARVEST thing?” Steve complained.

“Sorry, do you prefer Harvey?” Eddie shot back. Steve groaned.

“You’re impossible.”

“Oh, boy,” Chrissy mumbled.

“I know, right?” Robin agreed. “Steve, can we go back to yours?”

“All of us?” Steve asked, knowing the answer already. It was his apartment. He could have flat out said that Eddie wasn’t allowed in. But he saw the look in Robin’s eyes, and he knew that if they all went back to the apartment, she could spend more time with Chrissy. “Alright, fine. Let’s go.”

Steve’s apartment was nice. It was huge, spacious, and all the utilities worked. It was also minimalist in that Steve hadn’t put up any decorations. He had the essentials - a couch, a TV, a table. Not much more.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to have people over,” Steve said as they walked in.

“It’s beautiful,” Chrissy said.

“It’s empty,” Eddie noted. His apartment was a lot smaller, but it also was a lot more filled up. This place had nothing, basically. Eddie almost made a comment about Steve not having any money to decorate after paying what he assumed was an absurd rent, but he held his tongue.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Robin agreed. “I keep throwing ideas his way, but he’d rather live in an asylum, basically.”

“I’m not here that often,” Steve explained, shrugging. “Sue me.”

“It definitely could use some color,” Chrissy agreed. “Art on the walls, maybe a rug -”

“Yes! Exactly!” Robin exclaimed. “I even have a Pinterest board.”

“Oh my god, can I see it?” Chrissy asked. Robin nodded, and then they were both sitting across the room looking at decor or some shit. All of the logistical stuff related to interior design was beyond Eddie. He just bought things that he liked and then put them where they best fit. He didn’t know anything about color-coding, and he didn’t even know what Pinterest was.

Anyway, Robin and Chrissy bonding so aggressively and so immediately (which was interesting, to say the least) left Eddie semi-alone with Steve once again.

“Can we talk?” Steve asked, surprising the hell out of Eddie. He had given Steve zero reason to want to talk to him, he’d made sure of it. Like, Eddie had been at his maximum asshole level for a few reasons. First and foremost, it was payback for high school. Second, it was fun. And third, because Eddie didn’t like Steve, and because he currently didn’t have anywhere else to direct his anger.

He didn’t say they were good reasons.

“Uh, suuuuure,” Eddie replied. Steve gestured for Eddie to follow him down the hall so they could have some privacy.

Oh, great. Now we’re fully alone.

Chrissy was amazing. She was wonderful. She was everything Robin hoped she’d be. It was almost too good to be true. No, it was definitely too good to be true.

They were huddled over Robin’s phone, talking about color theory and decorations which turned into art and hobbies which turned into a discussion about college (Robin went, Chrissy didn’t) and then finally their conversation settled on music.

“Have you listened to their stuff?” Robin asked, gesturing towards where the boys had gone. It had been a few minutes and no arguing or fights breaking out yet, as far as she could tell. Of course, she hadn’t been listening that intently.

“Sure,” Chrissy responded. “Corroded Coffin not so much, but that’s just because I’m not into that sort of music.”

“Very fair.”

“Yeah. But HARVEST I hear all the time. That one song is literally impossible to escape from.”

“Oh, we know,” Robin replied with a laugh. “Steve secretly can’t stand it’s that song that blew up.”

“What do you mean?” Chrissy wondered.

“Like, it’s definitely his most commercial song,” Robin explained. “I’ve been listening to Steve’s music since we met, and it’s a little out there sometimes, but now that I’m used to it I’m all for it. Anyway, his favorite songs are the ones most people haven’t heard. That’s why his new album is - I mean that’s why he -”

Robin stopped herself from saying the rest. Chrissy was great, but Robin wasn’t about to spill all of her best friend’s secrets.

“That’s why he what?” Chrissy teased, nudging Robin in the shoulder.

Dammit. It was really hard to avoid temptation when temptation was someone as vibrant as Chrissy Cunningham.

“That’s why he’s so excited about it,” Robin concluded.

Thank god. I can keep my best friend card.

“Oh, okay,” Chrissy said, nodding. “I’ll have to listen to his other stuff then.”

“Let me know what you think,” Robin replied.

“Of course I will.” Chrissy smiled, then pulled out her phone. To Robin’s surprise, she handed it to her with an empty contact open.

Holy shit.

Robin typed in her name and number, then triple checked to make sure she put it in correctly before handing the phone back to Chrissy.

“There you go,” she said, doing her best to remain calm.

“Thank you,” Chrissy said. “Wow, it’s so crazy. First with Eddie, now with you. I just feel like we’re all going to be really good friends.”

Friends. GOD. Ouch.

Robin probably should have expected that. She had expected it, really, but it stung nonetheless. That was okay. They could be friends. Robin cleared her throat and hoped she didn’t sound too disappointed.

“Yeah, if the two idiots in there can get their shit together,” Robin joked.

“I know!” Chrissy agreed. “Like, what’s going on with them?”

“I honestly have no idea.” She looked down the hall, still not hearing any arguing.

If she’d been alone, she would have pressed her ear to the door and listened in, but she had to be on her best behavior. You know, for her new friend.

“Sooo, what the hell is going on?” Eddie asked once they were in a different room. It looked like an office. There was music equipment everywhere.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and tell you a bunch of shit, okay? Because the last hour or so has been crazy and I’m still kind of hungover and I’m not interested in doing a whole dance with you.”

“Yeah, you made that clear last night when you didn’t dance with me,” Eddie deadpanned.

“Jesus,” Steve exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you just -”

“You wanna tell me something, so skip the preamble and tell me -”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Steve snapped. “I’m sorry for - I’m sorry about high school. I was an idiot.”

Oh. Well, shit.

“Past tense?” Eddie teased.

“Go to hell.”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” he relented with a light chuckle. “Thanks. I appreciate the apology.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Eddie confirmed. “Don’t worry, I’m still iffy about you for a bunch of other reasons.”

“Great,” Steve said, returning Eddie’s sarcastic tone.

“Cool,” Eddie replied. “So, is that it?”

“No.”

“No?” Eddie prodded.

“Wait, what are the other reasons?” Steve asked, losing his train of thought. Eddie scoffed.

“You want me to tell you why I don’t like you?” Eddie rebuffed. “Are you into that or something?”

“No, I just -”

“Come on, spit it out,” he demanded. “The quicker you say what you’re gonna say, the less time we have to talk to each other. What is it?”

Steve took a deep breath.

“I want my album to do well, and ever since this whole steddie thing happened, people have actually started talking about it, and -”

“Waaaait a goddamn second,” Eddie drawled. “Are you saying you want to actually, like, do the fake relationship thing?”

“No, I just don’t want to deny it,” Steve responded. “Let them talk, you know.”

Eddie almost laughed. Jesus Christ, this was rich. Eddie thought he’d be the one begging for scraps, yet here he was, in Steve’s apartment, listening to his high school bully ask him for a favor.

Eddie weighed his options. If he said no, it would feel great in the moment, but then this would be over.

The tables were turning, and he wasn’t going to let a bit of his power go to waste.

“Hmm, very interesting, Harvey,” he said. “The King’s come crawling back to the freak.” Steve scoffed.

“Our fake relationship benefits you more than me, you do realize that, right?” he reminded Eddie. “I’m just fine on my own. You get a popularity boost from this, so maybe you should try not to be a total asshole for once. I could find literally anyone else to do this with.”

The thing was, Eddie knew that wasn’t true. He could see right through the bullshit.

“You’re bluffing,” Eddie stated.

“What?”

“You’re bluffing,” he repeated. “Lest we forget you’re the one who asked me to go along with this.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, ‘lest we forget.’ Why do you talk like that?”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Edde said, his eyes boring into Steve’s.

“What question?”

“Come on, Harrington. You want me. Why?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, but didn’t break away.

“Okay, calm down with the whole ‘I want you’ thing, alright?” Steve’s agitation was just too cute. It was so easy to rile him up. “I’m doing this for my album, just like you are.”

“Yeaaah, I don’t buy it. What else is it?” Eddie couldn’t help it. He had to keep pushing.

“There’s nothing else, Eddie.”

“Don’t tell me, then,” he teased. “Let me guess. All those years ago when you laughed at me in high school, you were really just harboring some hidden crush on me that didn’t fully come to fruition until you saw me at Frolique?”

Steve’s face went pale, and for a moment Eddie wondered if he’d gone too far.

“Oh my god,” Steve scoffed. “Could you not be a jackass for literally one second?”

“Wait, was I right?” Eddie took a step forward, intrigued by the idea.

“No, you weren’t right, Munson,” Steve insisted. “I didn’t have a crush on you, I was just a dick.”

Ah. So much for that. Eddie shook his head and smiled.

“And now you’re just so goddamn pleasant, huh?” He turned to look at all the expensive shit Steve kept in there - high-tech recording equipment, instruments, microphones, sheet music.

“Usually, yeah,” Steve replied. “I’m actually nice to most people.” Eddie’s eyes were still focused on the sheet music, an increasing curiosity within him, but he held back and returned his focus to Steve.

“Aw, so I’m the exception? See, I knew I was special.”

If being a dick was so bad, then why was it so fun?

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Steve asked.

“Oh god, sooooo many things,” Eddie replied. He meant it, too. He knew he had issues, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk to Steve about them. “And for the record, I can be pleasant too. Just ask Chrissy.”

“When did you get so close with her, anyway?”

“Since about an hour ago,” Eddie answered. “Anyway, I’m an absolute delight, Harrington. I only bite when it’s fun.”

“Then you must be having the time of your goddamn life,” Steve remarked.

It wasn’t not true, but once again, Eddie needed to be unpredictable. He just had this compulsive need to throw Steve off, to keep him guessing. Yeah, being an asshole to Steve Harrington was fun, but Eddie didn’t forget how much he hated the guy and everything he stood for.

“God, I wish,” he replied. “I hate this, but I’ll have fun when I can. I mean, my career is important, too. Why do you think I made a big fool of myself at that party? I fucking danced in public so that I could talk to you. I already told you - I don’t like your music, or your weird persona, and I don’t really care for you off-stage either.”

“Yeah? Well, the feeling is mutual,” Steve shot back.

Eddie smirked, a fire within him that somehow bloomed and burned at the same time. Matter is neither created nor destroyed right? Eddie was never that good in school, but that phrase always stuck with him. The fire - the anger, the pain, the hurt - it fueled him and it broke him down. An endless cycle. What he loved. What he didn’t. All of it was the same.

“Let me be fucking clear,” Eddie said. “I’m not doing this because it’s fun. I’m doing it because I get something out of it, got it?”

“Got it,” Steve replied. The air between them was tense, and it made Eddie feel alive.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Then we’ll let them talk.”

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

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#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #steddie fic #i can't tune you out #st fanfic #writing #eddie munson x steve harrington

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