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jadekitty777 · 1 year

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The Emotionalist: Chapter 3

I’ma be honest, I just found out that copying and pasting to tumblr is not saving my bold and italics. I’m too lazy to fix it, so uh, I recommend reading these chapters on A03 lol Particularly this one which is text heavy.

Prompt for Day 4: Sick

Rating: T

Word Count: 5K

Summary: Clover Ebi was a huntsman who, like most Atlesian soldiers, hid most of his emotions behind a mask of calm professionalism. That is, unless, one knew where to look. And Qrow looked a lot.

Or, 5 times Qrow learned to read Clover’s mood not from his face, but from his ears. [An adjacent story to Hunting Season Hunting Season; events from Qrow’s POV]

Ao3 Link: Burning like the Sun

Did you get the day off too?

Qrow leaned against the wall beside the Aceops office, left leg propped on the wall behind him and beating a staccato rhythm while he tapped a message back to his eldest niece. Yeah. Ol’ Jimmy has a heart after all. Got plans?

FNKI invited us out to a club. She replied. Rubes and Weiss aren’t interested but Blake and I are going.

He arched an eyebrow, snorting. Try not to blow this one up firecracker. 🔥🔥🔥🔥

IT WAS ONE TIME!

He could practically imagine the way Yang was fuming.

Another ping only moments later, Anyways, what are you gonna do?

Things. He thumbed out, eyes drifting down the hall. Still empty.

He didn’t look away until another ping chimed for his attention.

…Responsible things?

He started to type out one of his typical answers, something that fit the blasé and uncaring attitude he often pulled with his niece. He had a dozen he used on any occasion, but some of his favorites were ‘Responsible people don’t have fun’ or ‘Ain’t my style’.

Then he paused and wondered at the ellipses his brash and impulsive niece never used in her texting and wondered if this question was more serious than he was used to.

He didn’t have to think hard to figure out why it was there.

Swallowing guilt, he told her a half-truth instead of an uncaring dismissal. If you must know, I have a date.

That certainly started some sort of implosion, as he saw his niece start and stop typing for several moments.

Then, nothing except a big long pause.

Qrow realized he should be worried when a reply finally came in a burst of yellow text drawing itself along his screen:

Congratulations Old Man!

His shoulders shook to contain his laughter. I think my eyeballs just exploded. Then, with a huff, added, And don’t call me old.

You’ll survive. She quipped right back. After firing off a few annoying emojis his way, she finally said, Figured something was going on between you and Mr. Prince of the Forest.

Any amusement he had left died in his throat.

Blood burning, he typed back aggressively, Don’t call him that Yang. Ever. That shit’s not okay.

Why are you suddenly mad at me??? Even through text, he could hear her indignation.

He started to type rapidly, not even double-thinking his harshness - Gods, she liked Blake for maiden’s sake! - but before he could even finish, her next reply stopped him cold.

That's what you called him!

No I didn’t, He defended back immediately. Sure he didn’t used to be the most sensitive about Faunus discrimination. There were definitely things he’d said or did in his youth that he wasn’t proud of, with his jeering tribemates egging him on. And because he was an idiot so desperate for approval, he hurt a lot of people who never deserved it - but that was a long time ago, and he’d grown up a lot since he’d left his old life behind and better people opened his eyes.

But, his niece was swiftly proving that false, pings coming back quick and short,

Um yeah. You did.

Like two days after the whole arrest bs

During breakfast

I mean you were kinda rough but

Yeah

As the words drilled into his skull, they reached into his brain, pulling out a foggy memory.

He hadn’t been… great when he first stopped drinking. Better than most, aura was a blessing sometimes, but he knew detoxing threw him for a loop. It was why he often preferred not to.

But with James not willing to put them onto the field until they at least settled in and the kids got their weapons fixed up - not even him - it had left Qrow with little to do but ride the waves of sicknesses and nausea.

Still, he had made an effort to join the kids for breakfast, even if he couldn’t stomach it. It was important they knew - well, that Yang and Ruby knew - that he was still trying.

Those first few days were always the worst though, leaving him sweaty and shaky and just all around in a piss-poor mood. That day in particular, he recalled having just come off from one of the worst sleeps of his life. First at the table but slumped over it and clutching his cup of undrinkable coffee like a lifeline.

Yet Ruby joined him as if it was just another Tuesday.

And the small exchange he’d completely forgotten about surfaced like an oil spill on the ocean, black and poisonous:

“Hey, hey Uncle Qrow!” Ruby said enthusiastically, “Penny told us that when we get our weapons back, the Aceops want to take us all out on a mission together. Doesn’t that sound great?”

He scoffed, saying loud enough he knew every single person heard every single last one of his damn words, “Oh great, can’t wait for a prance through the frozen wastelands with Mr. Prince of the Forest and all his little woodland friends.”

He couldn’t recall exactly how anyone responded beyond a few uncomfortable laughs before the subject was quickly changed.

He especially didn’t know what Blake’s had been - he had never looked up.

“Fuck.” He hissed to himself, smacking his head back on the wall.

He… owed her an apology.

But first he had to fix something else.

He forced his eyes back onto his scroll, his turn to rapidfire back replies.

Well I shouldn’t have.

If I ever say anything like that again, about ANY Faunus, punch me in the face.

As hard as you can.

I want to go through the WALL.

Got it?

He watched the little drawing quill dance as his niece started to reply but never let her get there as he asked, Why are you repeating me anyways?

The quill didn’t come back.

His scroll went dark, then black.

“Qrow?”

He jumped, almost dropping the device. Looked up and around, to see Clover standing just a few paces away, eyebrow raised. His arms were relaxed at his sides, his own scroll held limp in his hand. But through the transparent display, he could see the polls newscast rolling, sound probably feeding directly into Clover’s communicator.

The sight of his ears, still in the near-permanent droop they’d fallen into since the start of the week, reminded Qrow why he was here.

“H-Hey!” He straightened up, corner of his lip pulling up in a half-smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Clover’s eyebrow only hiked higher, looking past him briefly. “At my own office?”

“Uh.” He articulated gracefully. “Yeah well. Figured you’d have the night off like everyone else.”

“I do.” Was the even reply, playfulness starting to glimmer in Clover’s eye. “Which only further doesn’t explain why you’re here though.”

Damn.

Qrow cleared his throat, trying to save himself by appealing to the clever idiot, “Lucky guess?”

Clover’s ears twitched, raising just a smidge, mimicking the slow smile gracing his handsome face. “Is that so?”

“Of course.” He jutted out a hip, placing a hand on it. “Come on, don’t act like you’re not happy to see me Clubs.”

The slow roll of the other’s eyes on him was heated and absolutely deliberate. “I’m always happy to see you.” The husky promise sent a thrill through him.

Yet, as fast as the flame was lit, it suddenly burnt out as something Qrow didn’t hear made Clover look down at his scroll, holding it tight enough he was surprised it didn’t break.

His ears had fallen once more.

“Anyways, I was just here to send off a few files Winter requested before I headed to the polls.” Clover’s tone was that clipped professionalism he usually reserved for the field as he walked past, opening up the door. “Did you need something?”

The change of pace took out some of his bluster, but he carried on as he trailed in after the other. “Well, I haven’t had a chance to see the sights lately. Was thinking you could give me a grand tour. Saaaay over dinner? Your choice, my treat?”

The other paused, hand hovering over the power button to his computer as he stared back at Qrow. “Not sure I’ve heard of a lot of tours that happen stationary in a restaurant.” The playfulness was back.

“Clover.” Qrow santured over, hopping onto the corner of his desk. “Come on already. We can even go to your favorite.”

This time he actually chuckled, finally booting up his computer. “I’m afraid my favorite place isn’t really your scene.” Clover glanced at him meaningfully. “Or your crowd.”

He’d guessed as much.

It said a lot about the soldier and the way he’d been treated over the years that he so quickly was willing to shelter Qrow from experiencing his own culture. He didn’t think it had to do with a lack of pride, but rather a lack of agency in his own position. A Faunus holding such a high rank in the military, being James’ literal right hand, should be something to simply praise for the accomplishment itself. A sign of times truly changing.

But it was obvious from people like Robyn or Jacques, who would so easily use that stance against him, that all Clover could do instead was constantly mock an image of perfection and pureness to the world so that they couldn’t tear him and everything he stood for down.

He was so used to doing that, that it seemed to become almost second nature to hide anything that might come off as ‘troublesome’.

Unfortunately for him, Qrow wasn't really into all that rigamarole. He especially wasn’t when he wanted this to work so badly - the conversation they’d had two weeks ago about his insecurities over his semblance had only solidified that in his mind. What started out as just a bit of flirting and mutual attraction had turned into so much more. Clover was special and inspiring in a way he’d never met before, and he very much wanted to keep him in his life.

“All I’m hearing is a bunch of excuses.” Qrow went in for the kill, leaning over the desk and dragging a hand through his own hair, disheveling it purposely as he put on his best smirk. “Come on Clover, take me out for a night on the town.”

Hook, line and sinker. Clover’s breath caught, eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, giving in with a simple, “I suppose dinner does sound nice. How ‘bout you meet me at the helipad docks at 6?”

Yes! Qrow did a mental victory dance, slipping off the desk. “You got it Clubs. I’ve got a few things to take care of, but I’ll see you then~”

“Yeah. I’ll be there.” Clover’s bright smile and raised ears was the last thing Qrow saw before the door closed.

He started down the hall, already looking up locations for a good clothing and cologne store when his phone pinged.

A message from Yang.

He paused, the conversation from before Clover’s arrival coming back in a rush.

Reluctantly, he tapped over to read it.

I dunno. I guess ‘cause you said it, I thought it was okay.

A hard knot of shame bunched in his stomach as the implications of that fully hit him.

“Shit.”

Six o’ clock on the dot, Clover walked into the station.

Qrow took a mournful moment to admire him. Despite neither of them saying a word, it seemed they’d come to the universal agreement that this was a date.

Clover had dressed down for the occasion, and though he already missed the sleeveless vest, Clover filled out the dark green turtleneck rather prettily. His pants were black and framed shapely thighs. Kingfisher was still hitched to his hip and the leather belt it was attached to had a buckle with a shamrock printed on.

And, of course, completely for Qrow’s benefit, he wore a single chain drop earring in the tip of his right ear, a set of silver feathers that hung at the bottom tinging together anytime he moved.

As he drew close, Qrow could smell the cologne he wore.

“Hey.” Clover breathed, eyes rolling over him shamelessly. “You look great.”

He glanced down, almost forgetting himself. He’d kept it simple, going for a pair of charcoal gray pants and matching it with a black dress shirt that had a red and white floral design on the inside of his collar and the rolls of the sleeves. He’d dug out his old necklace, the little cross settled over his heart.

But where he’d really gone all out was his nails - colored with a polish so dark blue it was almost black, with little silver confetti stars pressed over top with a clear coat. They caught the light nicely, little constellations twinkling along his hands.

The question on why he bothered with the effort still escaped him when he was about to ruin everything.

“Not as good as you, Clubs.” He tried anyways, even though his heart wasn’t in it.

Clover picked up on it immediately, one ear raising up like an exclamation as he asked, “You alright? If you’re having second thoughts-”

“No.” He cut him off quickly, not wanting Clover to think for a second it was about that. “But you might in a minute. I just… need to come clean about something.”

“Okay?”

Clover only seemed further confused as Qrow handed over his scroll. “Read it. Next page too.” He mumbled.

They were just screenshots of the tail end of his conversation with Yang, starting from the damning slur to her last words to him.

Clover was quiet as he read it, eyebrows twisting down somewhat as he swiped to the next picture. Swiped back and read it again. Neither his face nor his ears were giving anything away, as if he was completely frozen.

Qrow felt his anxiety fester the longer he just stood there, staring at it. Eventually it grew to be too much, and he blurted out, “I’m really sorry.”

Clover looked up at him.

On instinct, he looked away, then forced his eyes back. Look at him damnit!

“I-I know that doesn’t make up for it. But you had the right to know.” He explained hastily and then he waited for whatever punishment was coming.

He mostly expected a punch to the face.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Clover to just blink and hand back his scroll with a calm, “That’s it?”

Excuse him - WHAT?!

His shock must have been evident, because the other man continued, “Qrow you’re not the first person to relegate me to deer-focused idioms.”

“Doesn’t mean I shoulda fucking said it.”

A sigh. “No, you shouldn’t have. But, and take this as nicely as you can - I’m not surprised that you’re kind of a total asshole to people you first meet.”

Qrow winced, but didn’t deny it. He could sweet talk like the best of them when he needed to, but on a general day-to-day? Especially with Atlas folk? Yeah, he wasn’t exactly Mr. Nice Guy.

Still…

“Clover, don’t make excuses for me.”

“I’m not.” He insisted, placing a hand on Qrow’s shoulder. “Look, listen to me, okay? I understand that you’re human and that you probably grew up with a lot of racists throughout your life. I’m not about to hold you up on a pedestal above everyone else. This stuff is complicated and more terrifyingly systematic than even I like to think about most days.” His fingers squeezed, just slightly. “But that’s not the important thing. You want to know what is?”

Qrow thought it over, shrugging a bit. “That I... was honest?”

“No. Well yes, but no. It’s that you understand it’s wrong and are willing to change it. Most people don’t give me that kind of respect.” He insisted, pulling back to rest his hand on his hip. “You know what happened when I told my last boyfriend I didn’t like him calling me ‘Fawny’? He got mad at me, asked why I was being ‘so uptight’ about it. And when I explained, he claimed I was just being dramatic.” Clover rolled his eyes, spitting out, “Fucking asshole.”

Even though it sounded truly awful, it was odd that he actually felt lighter at hearing that - but Clover tended to have that effect on him. Somehow, he always saw the best in him.

Well. Mostly.

“Didn’t you just call me an asshole, like, two sentences ago?” Qrow teased.

He waved him away. “Yeah but you’re like a general asshole, not a calculated one.”

“And that’s better?”

“Will you let me compliment you already?”

“That was a compliment?!” He mock-cried.

To his surprise, Clover burst out laughing.

It was a really nice sound, and he couldn’t help but join in.

As it petered out, the two of them sharing smiles, Qrow admitted cautiously, “I’m really surprised you’re not mad at me.”

“Trust me Qrow. When I’m angry, you’ll know.” That promise sounded oddly terrifying. Before he could dwell too much on it, Clover pointed to his scroll. “But I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit - again. You know you never needed to tell me this, right? That you could have hid it forever, and I probably never would have found out.” He met his gaze, sincere and kind as he said, “The fact you did despite that says a lot more about the good in your character than I think you realize.”

Qrow’s eyes widened, a flush of warmth rushing through him. He might have been swooning. He was definitely blushing. “Clover…”

The soldier just seemed pleased with himself. Then a chime from the itinerary display went off, and his ear perked up before his eyes followed it. “Our flight’s ready.” He jabbed a thumb towards the loading station, giving him a wink. “What say we get outta here?”

Utterly enchanted, there really was only one answer to that. “Lead the way Clubs.”

The Dog Pan was a hole in the wall kind of place, right in the center of Mantle’s lower end district. It wasn’t quite the slums, but it was clear the side of town had seen better, with broken out windows and graffiti on most walls.

Yet, the moment they walked in, he could immediately feel the closeness and community that seemed to radiate from the very core. The windows had top curtains with little leaping dogs weaved out of yarn and privacy blinds made of bed sheets with colorful designs. They matched well with the walls where, in place of traditional pictures, were long, flowing, multi-colored tapestries with beaded ends. One of them depicted the God of Animals, another the Shallow Sea and the island of Unitas it banked. It all looked hand-woven.

The place was also packed to the brim, some of the chairs shoved against tables not matching as if they had been brought in. There was music playing but he could barely hear it over conversation, which seemed unusually loud; yet despite any eared Faunus obviously pinning their ears down, there was still a kind of comradery in the laughter and noise.

“Wow. I figured it’d be nuts but not this crazy!” Clover's own ears had dropped but he was grinning. He glanced at him. “You still sure you’re good?”

Qrow snorted. He used to frequent rave bars at an alarming rate. This was nothing. “You’re gonna have to try harder if you want to scare me off Clubs!”

“Clover!” The shout had them both looking forward, a plump and jolly looking woman weaving her way around the tables towards them. She had a skin tone that reminded him of Marrow and black dog ears that flopped over on the top of her head. As she reached them, she was quick to pull Clover into a hug. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight! You haven’t been around in ages.”

“Good to see you Maxi.” He replied, hugging her back.

She stepped back, zeroing in on Qrow, curious and welcoming. “And who is this handsome one?”

“This is Qrow, my new field partner.” Clover chuckled, patting his shoulder.

Taking his cue, he held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She shook it. “You as well darling. So, just you two then? I can’t get you a table, but I do have some room at the end of the bar.”

Clover shot him a questioning look.

He knew she meant a food bar, but it still settled like an itch on his skin. Shaking it off, he assured, “Works for me.”

“Lovely! Follow me.”

They picked their way carefully through the restaurant to get towards the back, settling into circular seats that creaked and had tears in the leather. The counter was worn and he could see words and symbols carved into the softwood. Maxi took their drink orders and, with her so close to the kitchen, was back within moments with a soda and a pot.

“Gotta say,” She said to them as she poured Qrow’s coffee. “I’m disappointed you didn’t bring my son with you.”

Wait…

“‘Fraid we couldn’t. He’s working security tonight.” Clover explained.

Maxi sighed. “Remind that boy of mine it wouldn’t kill him to see his mother now and again, would you?”

He gave her a two-fingered salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You just call when you're ready, dears.” She said before departing to handle some of the other tables.

Qrow leant towards Clover. “So she’s…?”

“Yeah. Marrow’s mom. This is actually how I met him. Saw him stop a whole tray from falling out of his sister’s hands when she tripped.” Clover told him. “I asked him why he wasn’t in the academy, and he told me he was. He just spent all his free time here, bussing tables and cleaning dishes. I knew ever since then that if I ever got a spot on the team, I wanted him on it.”

How exactly a spot ‘opened up’ was left unsaid.

Qrow could probably guess anyways.

“He was a good choice. Kid’s got talent, just needs more steadiness.” He said instead. “So, you’re the only one with the night off?” He knew Elm, Harriet and Vine were all working security for Jacques’ campaign. They’d been specially requested, for obvious reasons. Likewise, Robyn had asked for whoever was left.

“Perks of being Captain.” Clover joked. “And, James wanted Winter and I on standby.”

“For what?”

“For whatever happens once the polls close. Riots are uh, likely.” His eyes flicked to a TV set in the corner, and though it was inaudible, the picture of Jacques and Robyn on screen, the gap between their percentage ratings narrowing every minute, told them all they needed to know. “Among other things.”

Qrow kinda wanted to shoot it. “Y’know, I was trying to get you away from all that tonight.”

“Oh Qrow, I was always going to look. But,” He slid his hand across the table, the sides of their hands brushing. “At least I’ve got some good company to get me through it.”

Qrow hooked their pinkies together, a silent support.

“Come on, let’s order.”

Qrow had never seen a menu with so many post-it notes. The effect of the embargo was clear, as many foods had become too expensive or outright impossible to obtain - but anything with a cheaply grown vegetable, like corn or rice, or an easily obtained meat, like chicken which were bred plentifully or fish which was naturally fished and farmed out of the tundra, were still in supply.

In the end, he took Clover’s suggestion to try the smothered chicken legs.

Baked in gravy and coming with a side of cornbread and mashed potatoes, it was all sinfully good and filling.

He also managed to coax Clover to let him have a bite of his - the fried pike burst with flavor, likely attributed to its freshness. It came with a side of fries. Qrow stole a few of those too, mostly being cheeky about it.

Yet, as dinner carried on, the mood of the restaurant shifted. Conversations became hushed and subdued, a worry rippling through the people. No, a fear. If he strained to listen, he could catch snippets of conversation, whispers of what would happen to families stuck in the slums, of their children in the schools, of their jobs, their very way of living. Even Maxi seemed to hold her tray heavier with every pass, her smiles more strained. More people came in. Few left. It got so crowded, Qrow only had to lean back slightly to touch another person.

Try as he might to keep him distracted, Clover kept glancing at the TV. His ears were low enough, the feathers of his earring were resting against his shoulder.

As the last of the fries disappeared between them, Qrow asked softly, “You want to stay here?”

“‘Til it’s over.”

He nodded, and as their plates were gathered, asked for a refill. Sipped black coffee in one hand while the other slipped over damaged wood to touch Clover’s again.

After a moment, Clover reached back, nudging under Qrow’s fingers so they slipped over top of his own.

The minutes ticked on.

The percentages between Schnee and Hill grew smaller and smaller.

47-53.

48-52.

49-51.

At the final second, it hit 50-50.

The whole restaurant had gone dead silent as the polls disappeared, reporter Oliver Sikes taking over the screen. “And there we have it! The polls have officially closed and the final tallies are coming through now. Phew, what a close race. It’ll be just a minute now folks.” He rambled on for a bit more, detailing out the last districts that were decided on and the few they were still waiting on the exact counts from. But like all things in Atlas, his prediction was precise.

As the sixty second ended, Sikes was announcing, “Oh and here we go, I’m being told the counting is done! And it looks like…”

The polls flashed back on screen.

57-43.

“Jacques has been announced the winner!”

The declaration was like pulling the pin off a grenade, a sudden, explosive roar starting up around them as the restaurant descended into chaos.

The hand in his had tightened into a vice.

“What the fuck!” Qrow exclaimed. There was no fucking way, with a race that close, that Jacques pulled that much ahead. That meant some of the votes had been falsified. He jerked his head around, spitting, “Clover, that’s - Clover?”

Clover didn’t so much as respond to him, his wide eyes still staring at the screen where Jacques had started his victory speech. His face was completely motionless and impassive.

It was his ears that told Qrow the real story, as they had flipped back horizontally, the entire lengths of them trembling with barely withheld rage.

Just as soon as he’d seen it, it was gone when a furious outcry from the back had them both looking over their shoulders in time to see a man with moose antlers toss his chair. It hurtled its way across the restaurant and slammed right into the TV, shattering it on impact.

Had it been up to him, Qrow would have given the guy a medal.

Clover didn’t seem quite as praising, as he slammed his hands on the counter before climbing up onto it, shouting across to the crowd. “EVERYONE CALM DOWN!” He bellowed. “This is a Faunus-friendly establishment - a piece of our own community! What are you doing wrecking it?!”

Some people heard it, others didn’t, still arguing and trying to trash the place.

“No-No, please don’t!” Qrow heard Maxi cry just as one of her tapestries was pulled off the wall. Another person threw a plate on the floor.

A window cracked.

Sensing things were about to get further dangerous, he hopped the counter while Clover continued to try and appeal to the growing mob. Just as Qrow had managed to usher the sobbing woman through the kitchen door where the rest of her family was, ordering, “Get out the back!” he heard someone’s scream pierce the air that had him whirling around in horror.

“Wait, aren’t you Clover Ebi!? You voted for Schnee! Traitor!”

“Traitor! Traitor!” The mob chanted.

It was like a wave as they surged towards Clover, grabbing at his legs and trying to pull him off the bar. He yelped, grabbing onto a light fixture. It yawned worryingly.

“HEY!” Heart hammering in his chest, Qrow lunged towards Clover, trying to pull him the other way, kicking some of other Faunus back. “Let him go!”

The light fixture snapped but Qrow had just enough leeway to yank him down on the other side of the bar.

They backed up against the wall as the mob all started to round it and climb over.

He curled a hand around Harbinger’s hilt. Was he really going to have to…?

In the corner of his eye, he saw Clover desperately flick the feathers of his earring.

A second later, an unmistakable siren pierced the air.

Grimm.

Everyone froze.

Then some started to panic, rushing out the doors. Others flung themselves under tables or into the corners.

Sharing a look, he and Clover moved, using the sudden space to leap onto the tables around the thinning crowd and make it to the exit.

They spilled into the street and started running. The first block was for safety.

At the second, Clover finally managed to lift his shaking hand to his earpiece, “Marrow, report.”

Qrow grabbed his shoulder, pulling them both to a stop. He could feel the tremors leaking from Clover’s skin.

“Right. Roger. We’re on our way.” Clover dropped his hand to Kingfisher, taking a deep, steadying breath as he unfurled it. “Robyn’s party was attacked. A dozen people are dead and the grimm are flocking to it.”

Qrow gave him one last check over, just to make sure he was really okay, before he unsheathed Harbinger. “Let’s go.”

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #fairgameweek2023 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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hplonesomeart · 2 months

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Heyyy to ease my nerves I decided to pull myself out of a self imposed state of (possibly? Maybe? Not too sure but it sure feels like) executive dysfunction and instead of staring at my animation program sitting in my lingering dread for several more hours, I did a little SONG COVER YEAHHHHH!!!! FUN SILLY SONG THERAPYYYYYY <3

Okay but this is also kinda a way to trick my mind into being complacent for a bit? Because thing is I would rather be stuck watching the same Mr. Puzzles clip compilation again and again then focus on animating the A Hat In Time project. Here’s the difficulties making it harder and harder for me to stay motivated and work; Last month was Artfight so I’m burned out from drawing, the part I’m stuck animating on is uninteresting to me and it’s frustrating that it doesn’t even look good, and THEN you’ve got the part of my mind going “lol hey we should animate Mr. Puzzles to All Eyes On Me-“ which in turn causes me to break down because NO, NO WE CAN’T DO THAT RIGHT NOW AHAHAH ARE YOU INSANE. If I start another animation project on TOP of what I’m SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING ON that’s called procrastinating and it’s making everything HARDER AAAAAA. So what’s better then starting a whole new animation project? Singing about the idea instead so I’ll feel content and be able to keep focusing on what I actually need to. Everyone wins! :3

…..anyways sorry to those who just recently came to my blog. I promise I’m not always this unhinged in my posts, I hope I don’t scare you away. Just been a lot on my mind recently. I like writing/talking to myself to get feelings and thoughts outta the system so please don’t take it all too seriously. Just helping myself process information is all :D

So enjoy the very unorganized song cover while I try to get better at time management skills

#I’m starting to think I may need to test for neurodivergence…..huh…..#either that or I’m just adapting the chronically online sillies #thing is I don’t have sensory issues or anything that’s an immediate indicator despite the fact I linger in fandoms #like drawing My Little Pony for my entire life? Is that normal?#and being able to memorize every fandom song I come across but cry over not understanding/remembering math formulas?#and I guess I stim with my hands but it’s very subtle and a specific motion I don’t see mentioned often #I call it ‘twirling my wrist’ while having a pencil or pony/object in my hand #which is different then what people say hand flapping is?#but it does happen unconsciously when I’m enthused or mind wandering #all I know is that if I do end up being neurodivergent it’s on a low end of a spectrum…#because there’s not much to go off of at the moment :/#I can read facial expressions and navigate conversations carefully but like…guess I’m always hiding aspects of myself from others in fear #….man I don’t know absolutely no clue jksjskp uhm 🥲#not gonna make claims in worry of being false on this so #guess I’m neurotypical until proven otherwise #I mean that’s how it’s been my entire life so far anyways #more likely it’s just my depression lingering around making it hard to focus on finishing one task #random #hplonesome art

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castle-dominion · 1 year

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c3x9 close encounters of the murderous kind

I like how my man had a baton not drawing a gun

Beestings?

Hun if you’re timing yourself then don’t chat with other people.

MR: Please, I’ve had relationships that haven’t lasted this long.

RC: No, we want to impress them!

Poor security guy. Lanie’s outfit. Also esposito’s, v normal but nice. Vaccum sealer obv. Or the place they test airplanes. Maybe she was killed by Big Pickle. Oh no castle.

Esposito, u growing a beard? I can’t tell. Transcendent.

KR: Before version (Love ryan’s outfit. You know, his hair is short these days but his hair is short in later seasons but he looks way different. His face is longer, cheeks sharper, he almost seems taller) oOH ASTROPHYSICS. I used to love reading my dad’s old astrophysics textbook. I almost wanted to go into it but then I realized it was all math & even if I just wanted to take the course for fun I would need physics 30 & that wasn’t going to happen. I love how he flips his notebook Wait isn’t that esposito’s pin? Maybe it was montgomery’s... Or maybe they all got one bc it’s a pride flag with only the blue stripe coloured in. Oh no seti can’t have given the grant RYAN TELL ME YOU DON’T BELIEVE IN ALIENS (physically moves onto castle’s side) (nice castle outfit) KB is right. KR: Maybe... Raymond always was the lightweight in the family. (Sorry now I’m just remembering the “I’m italian I burn pasta calories like nothing” guy from back in gr10 & “I’m irish I don’t get drunk”)

Ooh radio telescope!

Ooh this is cool! It’s like when you go from underwater to emerged & get the bumps or whatever

Nicotine addict. Esposito just sits down right beside the guy (their outfits) Ryan’s tie got spun funny XD

Why would he kill her with the altitude chamber & then try to throw u off the trail by moving her body? Not v smart (the thick white guy behind her is a detective I see often, but what is his name?)

Beckett is so right. Alien abductions aren’t real. KB: That reminds me of the lego I got stuck up my nose when I was six. We’ve all done it.

Esposito are there cleaning agents tho? Kate those things are probably expensive af. PICKLE MANUFACTURERS BESTIE.

Dr Parish is the best

HOLY CRAP I’M ONLY AT THE SECOND INTRO?

Oh no Rick is a Silly Guy! He is too good of a dad for these “serious people”

Wow that’s interesting. Screw the military tho bestie. KB: Well we started a conversation so I guess it worked... (I won’t clip) It is not a piece of an altitude chamber babe. It would not flake off like that.

Ooh Ryan’s outfit! Love it! Dark blue with black stripes in like a flannel gingham type pattern (idk the word) with a tie like that? Hoo! (Benny Stryker? THE derrel meeks? moment)

Lmao I’m glad I have captions. They intentionally made it sound like “in prison” Girl this is cult stuff. BS: Huh! Sign each other’s books! Castle & Stryker! Contact should totally have been capitalized. It wasn’t aliens. (btw his outfit is nice) XD like that will smith movie B’y everyone already knows about aliens & we also all already know aliens are not real.

RC: ... Overall, big week (castle’s jacket lol)

Governments cover stuff up all the time, it is not a stretch whatsoever.

Esposito honestly looks pissed Pickles Ooh Lanie & Esposito looked into it & found industrial vaccum sealers! Just like I said (he looks interesting. idk if I like this outfit. At least his short hair is not THAT short. & he checks into stuff with lanie <3) JE: Castle. JE: Just prove that ET did this bro, please. I hunt people, not machines. RC: I’m working on it *feeds a bird* JE, whispering: Thank you *bird feeds* (& esposito hates castle’s theories!)

Jersey turnpike, just where uncle raymond woke up! Voice activated phone, love it. RC: This place, that place, the other place KB: *looks at ryan* :| KR: *looks at becket* ??? (not clipping)

Mothman? Maintenance just replaced it so is this beckett’s car or is it a cop car? Is this a halloween episode? It’s got to be a helicopter...

First thing they ask is where the other is. We don’t know what she was involved in... Nazi with the dentist drill Our way of life? Human life? Government stuff? USA rich capitalists making life worse for the poor than the average of communism? Castle is great, just taking it in stride writing his silly little books Obviously these ones killed her Funky little gun thing Why do they always go for the neck? I mean I know it’s an easy access place but it is also hella scary. Lol looks like hickeys They are not good to drive... Ooh I should go out to the country & go stargazing

I love montgomery. He’s the dad. My people plural! Monty considers castle part of the fam!

RC: They also refused to confirm J Edgar Hoover liked to wear dresses JE: Abducted by government agents? Come on. What were you two really doing? KB: It’s not a kickey esposito. JE: You both have one. RC: I wish it was a hickey. (This is how u know he’s telling the truth) RC: It’s from the injectors! JE: Is that what the kids are calling it these days? RC: They were Men In Black! KB: *turns convo to vaccum packers & chinese cigarettes* (idk if I should laugh at the illegalalien comment or if that’s not ok.) KR: Hey. KR: Are those hickeys? JE: Yes KB: No RC: I wish KR: Ok!

An emp! Oh calcium. (esposito looks at castle like “you are so stupid for believing that” but he also begs castle to make it aliens so he doesn’t need to chase machines)

I love how beckett has that cute high necked shirt Castle hops to look thru the stuff CD just happens to be in the one he opens? (Maybe he opened a few already offscreen) (he holds it so poorly) Oh no. I swear it’s going to be a home movie & when I say “home movie” I mean... Obviously doctored or fake.

RC: Behold gentlemen & lady (esposito’s sweater right after the suit, why does he change so drastically) Just... all of their outfits actually. They stopped doing so many multiday episodes in laterseasons so they don’t need to change as much They are twins I swear

When beckett herself says “idk if it’s doctored” that gets the boys shocked Oh btw look at esposito’s cute sweater there.

KR: How? It’s not like we can call them up. RC: We do have a box of bugs Lol the audio matching castle raising his eyebrows

Montgomery is the coolest (You thought they knew what was going on? seriously?)

Oh capitalism. Totalitarian governments suck ig but communism on small scales works fine so protect your way of life all you want Bloggers, that’s a good point castle. Y’all stuff will definitely leave this room.

Ok leave the murder be.

Wow ashley’s parents suck. (calls castle’s pop fiction tawdry; castle calls him ordinary & assumes he would commit a murder) Lol at least castle gets to make a cool phone call about aliens & spies & cops & murder & surprise the parents like that. (I thought for sure the ppl questioning her were the agents that took caskett. But here’s a question, caskett got drugged: why didn’t they get blood tests done or smth?)

I’ve forged my TA’s initials on my high school agenda enough to know that if you want to forge a signature you need to do better than that

Ryan & esposito are not together much lately

Agent: I might want to put you guys on my friends & family plan

This is so gross. I hate the surveillance like that. Let people have privacy.

RC: Where are the helicopters & swat teams swinging down on ropes? Agent: Budget cuts Westfield: We’ll worry about their teeth when the time comes. (love them putting on their vests) Hm, the agent didn’t know about the basement intel! KB: Welcome to new york

(firefly reference?????)

Captions said Castle was speaking mandarin (which was the chinese spoken on firefly I think) but the captions say there is cantonese chattering. Fun fact I had a kung fu teacher who spoke cantonese, a white euro-canadian meat fabrication teacher who would speak mandarin to the lab tech in the meat shop, & my little brother can speak some mandarin. Ofc I know other ppl too but shush.

Hand signals my beloved Ryan just jumped this guy! Oh I forgot about the other agent lol Castle XD KR: :D think we’ll get a medal for this? Agent: This never happened

Ooh a private word with beckett! Oh no not camping with them... I hope we get to see that episode Argh it was confidential! (what did they actually say?) But anyway I think it would be cool to have an episode where rick & the families are away from new york camping & they need to solve a murder w/o the precinct, or at least w/o much help & it impresses ashley’s family (fanfic idea?) Lol castle just asks her what the confidential thing is

Ooh nice ending sound. It’s the theme song but played in the alien style

#castle x firefly #castle 3x9 #castle 3x9 spoilers #castle 3x9 quote #s3 caskett #the alien episode

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eddie-sweetheart · 2 years

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🏕 Camp Lovers Lake - Chapter Four 🏕

An Eddie Munson x Female Reader summer camp story. Set just before the beginning of season 3 of Stranger Things, with a few diversions from the original plot of the series.

🏕 Chapters List

Pairing and tropes • Eddie Munson x Henderson Female Reader - fluff, forced proximity, slightly slow burn, summer camp clichés ♥︎

Summary • June, 1985. Close to the city of Hawkins, Indiana, the placid waters of Lovers Lake stand as the perfect background for the homonymous summer camp, where you’re about to be a counselor for the last time before senior year and then, hopefully, college. Your brother Dustin Henderson won’t be with you this year, as he’s chosen to attend Camp Know Where until July - but with your best friend Robin Buckley at your side and the unexpected addition of Steve Harrington to your duo, the upcoming months seem to promise endless fun and exciting adventures nonetheless. However, as you get closer to Eddie Munson, resident metalhead and drug dealer who’s been forced by his uncle to work at Camp Lovers Lake after another missed graduation, your plans for the summer might have to go in a completely different direction.

Warnings • Cursing, possible mentions and/or depictions of violence, sexually suggestive language. Having no idea where this is going myself, you’ll need to be 18+ to read this fic just in case!

Chapter notes • Finally!!! I'm sorry for the delay, but it's been a crazy week and I kept coming up with new scenes that I wanted to include sooo this one needed some extra time! Hope you like it and hope it makes sense lol happy reading lovelies ✨

Chapter word count: 7.9k

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

Someone wise once said that mornings are for coffee and contemplation. Add a little bit of extra sleep and that’s the heavenly combination you’d usually be craving as soon as the alarm rings, especially on school days. But not today, apparently.

Last night, after the hike in the summer heat drained you of most of your energies, you drifted to sleep almost immediately after dinner, the sounds of crickets chirping and Robin’s low chatter lulling you into unconsciousness. It was a long, dark, and peaceful sleep, without any kinds of dreams - none that you remember anyways, now that the warm sunlight welcomes you back into another morning at camp.

It must be quite early, because you can still hear Robin’s soft snoring and deep breaths below you as you roll in the white cotton sheets and turn towards the window across the room. You can’t see the sky from where you’re lying, but judging from the light that is growing warmer and more intense by the minute, it’s clearly going to be another hot, sunny day.

You check the wristwatch that you keep hanging on the frame of the bed, and find out that it’s 7 am. Breakfast won’t be ready until 8:30, so you decide to wait a little longer in bed, your legs now free from the sheets and leaning against the old wooden wall of the cabin. A solitary sun ray travels across the room and reaches you, drawing a glimmering streak on your pj top as speckles of dust twirl in its light.

You check your watch again: 7:03.

You don’t know why, but you really can’t stay still for much longer - your body refuses to lie down and something inside you feels impatient, and fluttery. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept so well and soundly that you’ve completely recharged your energies, but what’s sure is that today you’re feeling more excited than usual to get up, live the day, do things… see people.

It almost clicks right there and then, when a small smile cracks through your lips while you play with the dusty air with one of your hands, making it pass back and forth through the glimpse of sunlight hovering above your bed. But, somehow, the excitement suddenly turns into some kind of uncomfortable bitterness, which makes you drop your hand on the mattress with a sigh.

After a few more restless minutes, you shake the feeling off and decide to get up early, for once. Mr. Smithson is surely at the Headquarters already, so you might get this chance to talk to him about Tim and Jason Carver’s brother - a topic that, now that you think about it, it’s better to be addressed as low-key as possible.

Being as silent as you can (stealthy like a ninja, Steve would say), you climb down your bed, get dressed, quickly scribble a note for Robin to tell her that you’ve gone out and that you’ll see her at breakfast, and you finally sneak out of the cabin.

The camp is silent, except for the relaxing sounds of nature. You realize that you’ve likely never experienced it with this amount of calm and peace, not even at night - there’s always someone sneaking around, a small cabin reunion or a bonfire going on. But now that it’s early morning and everyone is still asleep, it really feels like a wellness retreat from the chaos and loudness of urban life.

You stroll straight towards the Headquarters, enjoying the warm air and the freshness of the shadows cast by the trees. As you pass by Steve’s cabin, you throw an unintentional glance at the window, noticing nothing else but darkness.

Before heading to the meeting room, you stop a minute or two by the lake, your gaze getting lost in the vibrating green leaves reflected on its calm surface. As you graze the refreshingly cold water with the tip of your fingers, you decide in favor of asking Robin to go on a swim later today, maybe during your afternoon break.

Snap.

You turn around at the sudden noise coming from behind you, almost losing your balance and ending up with one foot in the water. You’re not scared, not like two nights ago when you found Eddie near the kitchen - but you’re startled nonetheless, so you take a look around. However, as you scan the space between the cabins and the grove surrounding the camp, nothing’s to be seen. So, you decide, it was probably a squirrel or a bird.

You check your watch once again and it’s not long now before everyone wakes up for breakfast, so you need to hurry if you want to catch Mr. Smithson alone. Before leaving, you try to shake some water off your wet tennis shoe, but there’s not much you can do - the damage is done now, so you’ll have to walk around with a soggy foot and let it dry in the sun later.

Trying to ignore the discomfort, you make your way towards the meeting room at the back of the Headquarters. You’re about to knock when the door swings open to reveal a chirpy Mrs. Janet.

“Oh, hello y/n” she exclaims, looking at you with a pleased expression of surprise, “quite the early birds today, are we?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Janet” you greet her back with a smile, “Yeah, I figured I could get up a bit earlier to have a chat with Mr. Smithson”

“Please, do come in, y/n” the director’s voice rises from behind the cook, “There’s still some time before we're being summoned into the dining room by the delicious smell of Mrs. Janet’s pancakes”.

Mrs. Janet happily scoffs as she moves to the side to let you in. “See you later, then, Richard” she exclaims, leaving the door ajar as she heads next door.

“So” Mr. Smithson addresses you as he shuffles a pile of papers and files together, sitting at the table in the middle of the room. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

You sit down across from him and tell him everything about Tim and Peter Carver, suggesting that it might be useful to move the latter to another cabin.

Mr. Smithson listens to you attentively, with his hands folded on the table and his head occasionally nodding when he agrees with you. When you’re done talking, he lifts his gaze up towards the ceiling, thinking.

“I’ll talk to the rest of the staff about this” he finally decides, looking back at you with a smile, “so we can decide together the best course of action. In the meantime, thank you for telling me - you did the right thing, as we want to keep this camp a safe space for everyone. Now” he concludes, throwing a glance at the clock on the wall, “I believe it’s time for pancakes. You can go, I’ll catch up soon”.

You nod in agreement, matching his smile as you get up and thank him before heading towards the door, which is still slightly open from when Mrs. Janet left. As you step outside, you suddenly remember that you didn’t mention the black vines and the hole in the ground to Mr. Smithson. But, as you move to go back inside, a familiar voice gets your attention.

“Didn’t know you were a snitch”.

You turn towards the sound, which is coming from your left, and find Patrick leaning against the outer wall of the meeting room, between the window and the door. You’re startled for a second, but as you realize it’s him your expression hardens.

“I don’t see how what I do or say is any of your business” you state, crossing your arms on your chest. You’re feeling the resentment bubbling up inside you as you speak.

“Fair point” Patrick scoffs, cocking one eyebrow up in disdain. “I guess it’s not my business that you’re hanging out with freaks now, either”

The clear reference to Eddie makes your cheeks turn red with anger. He’s probably used to being called a freak, and he might even joke about it - but you remember the hint of self-deprecation when he mentioned all the names he’s been called, and even if he’s brave enough to claim them and turn them into titles to exorcise their original meaning, it doesn’t mean that you’ll let your ex insult him for free.

“Could say the same thing about you” you talk back to Patrick, “but I’m not out there ambushing you to wine about your new friends”.

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t visit them at night, y/n” Patrick blurts out, taking a step towards you. “I saw you, earlier, coming from Munson’s cabin. What were you looking for in the lake, huh? Your lost dignity?”

You’re so taken aback at his blatantly misplaced accusations that you’re left speechless, but you snap back into reality as soon as he grabs you by an arm and drags you behind the corner of the building. You know he did it to avoid Mr. Smithson - who's now coming out of the meeting room to head to the kitchen - but it does nothing but enrage you even more.

“Don’t you dare touch me again” you hiss at him, “and don’t even try to pull that bullshit on me. If your stupid little jock brain didn’t notice, all cabins are on the same two paths, so, hello? I just walked in front of Harrington’s. But I’m not going to explain myself to you any further - and for god’s sake, stop. stalking. me.” you conclude, taking a breath.

Patrick blushes violently, his mouth hanging open as he realizes just how pathetic he sounds. You know he’ll never be like Jason, because all it took was a little resistance to his attempts at bullying to make him crumble like a sandcastle.

In the meantime, campers have started to emerge from their cabins, as it’s finally time for breakfast. You can see them right around the corner, grouping in front of the Headquarters porch - and, among them, you catch a glimpse of a familiar wavy shag.

“Y/n” Patrick addresses you, his tone hard and arrogant once again, but with a new hint of insecurity in it. “You really should think twice about who hang out with”.

You bring your eyes back to him, your gaze icy as you stare at his face. “Yeah, try telling that to yourself” you reply, firmly putting an end to the conversation. Then, you move to walk past him, just to find his hand tight around your arm once again.

“I mean it, y/n” Patrick whispers in your ear, his voice almost trembling as he squeezes you hard.

A little farther away, Eddie notices you struggling against Patrick’s grip. Your eyes lock with his for a second, and you see him taking a few steps in your direction. At the realization of what might occur, you shrug Patrick’s off of you, giving up on talking back or blurting out a remark - you just want to get out of there without anyone else getting involved.

You move quickly towards the Headquarters, passing by Eddie. You really don’t feel like explaining what has happened, so you just give him a small smile and a wave and steer clear of him. He softly smiles back and watches you walk away.

— 🏕 —

“Come on, it’s definitely not freezing!” Steve exclaims, watching Robin retreat on the pier after dipping the tip of her toes in Lovers Lake’s waters.

It’s early in the afternoon and, even if it’s still the beginning of June, it already feels like full-on summer. Popsicles melt at the speed of light, birds and squirrels hide in the cool shadow of the trees until sunset, campers only play sports in the early hours of the morning, ditching them for quieter board or card games when the sun is at its highest point in the sky - and, of course, as soon as any counselor has a slot of free time, they use it to find some much needed refreshment in the cold waters of the lake.

And that’s exactly what you and Robin planned on doing now, after spending the whole morning getting hand cramps while making friendship bracelets with a group of camper girls. You actually didn’t mind the activity, as you loved trying different shapes and motives with the colorful threads; you even made one for yourself, pink and light green with tiny white flowers, matching Robin’s light blue one. However, the idea of taking a swim and getting rid of the never-ending, always-flowing sweat pearling on your exposed skin and giving a break to your tired fingers really felt like an alternative worth pursuing.

Robin definitely agreed - at least until you reached the shore of the lake after lunch, beach towel in hand and swimsuit on, and tested the water. It was then that Robin absolutely changed her mind, striding towards the pier to the tune of “I’m not going to get a congestion, not today”.

You trailed behind her with a roll of your eyes and a smile, guessing that persuading her to get in the lake with you would be easier after some basking in the sun. It was still you, however, the one sitting with your legs dangling in the fresh water when Steve Harrington swam towards you from the shore. Miraculously, he had the same free time break as you, so he has now joined your mission to convince Robin to be brave and dive in - with scarce success, indeed.

“Nope” Robin protests, sitting back on her towel, drops of sweat on her forehead betraying her need for refreshment. “I’m not risking it, not yet. I’m not fully trusting your first aid skills in case my stomach freezes and I get cramps and drown” she blurts out at Steve, looking at you with raised eyebrows to find some support.

You sigh affectionately, leaning back from your own seat to pat her knee. “Take your time, Robin” you tell her, before removing your sunglasses and placing them next to her, away from the edge of the pier, “But I’m going in, if you don’t mind”.

“As you wish, dingus” she exclaims, turning her body to lay on her stomach. “Just let me know what you’d like to write on your tombstone” she adds with a smirk as you get up and take a deep breath before diving in.

The sudden cold takes your breath away as you float underwater, the bubbles from your dive fizzling around you. For a few seconds, time slows down and you enjoy the peaceful feeling of being suspended in the dark water - then, with a kick of your feet, you emerge back on the surface, the sun warming your face as you wipe your eyes and open them again.

“Is it that bad?” Steve eagerly asks you, swimming closer in case you need some help - being less salty than the sea, it’s slightly harder to stay afloat in lake water, but you’re okay.

You can’t help but shiver for a second, earning a victorious “Ah-ha!” From Robin. “Actually” you address her, “it’s a bit of a shock at first, but you get used to it in a second”.

You hang out like that for a while, chatting in the water as Steve occasionally displays his swimming skills, earning approving (and slightly mocking) claps from both you and Robin. He shakes his hair every time he re-emerges, lake water droplets shooting in your direction and causing Robin to yell at him to “stop acting like a damn puppy”.

After a while, though, even Robin surrenders to the heat. After a painfully slow ritual consisting of dipping one single body part at a time in the lake, she finally joins you in the water - still refusing to admit that it’s quite a manageable temperature.

“So, besides hiking, sports and making friendship bracelets, what else are we going to do all summer?” Steve asks, passing one hand through his wet but still incredibly good looking hair.

You and Robin exchange a look, not knowing where to start with the list.

“Well” Robin begins, “there are cooking classes, painting lessons, board game nights… if the projector is still working after Gareth crashed into it last year, we might do a couple of outdoor movie nights as well”.

“And, if you’re lucky, don’t forget hike number two and three” you chip in, “be sure that you’ll know every single flower and leaf on that path by the time September comes”.

“You always take the same route?” Steve asks, “you’ve never gone on a different one?”

“We tried asking the director last year” Robin replies, kicking her feet in the water, “but he said it’s better to stay on the trail we counselors know best, just in case something happens. And guess what? Nothing ever happens”.

Your mind flashes back to the image of the dark roots and the hole in the ground. You figure that, since you completely forgot to mention it to Mr. Smithson, you could maybe tell Robin and Steve and see if they believe it’s something worth sharing.

“Well, I actually noticed something yesterday” you begin, Steve's and Robin’s eyes now on you. “Eddie and I were walking back when I tripped on a root. I checked it out and it led us to a sort of… hole? In the ground? It wasn’t properly a cave, but it was big enough to fit a small kid. And there were black, slimy vines coming out of it - I’ve never seen anything like that, and I’ve passed by that spot enough times, for sure”.

Robin hums as she ponders on your words, while Steve’s expression grows more curious and his face gets almost imperceptibly paler.

“Black vines?” He asks you, his voice slightly trembling, “with slime on them?”

“Something like that, yes” you reply, wondering if he knows more about it. “Why, have you seen them too?”

Steve shakes his head, his gaze lingering in the bright blue sky. “Mmmh, nope, didn’t notice” he replies, grazing the surface of the water with the palm of his hands, “Was that the spot before the path running downhill to the lake?”

“Yeah, exactly”, you confirm with a sure nod.

Water drops run down Steve’s forehead as he passes a hand through his hair. “Weird” he says, “I was there last night and I didn’t see anything. Maybe it was too dark-“

“What the hell were you doing in the woods in the middle of the night?” Robin interrupts him, splashing him in the face.

Steve turns to her, color coming back to his cheeks. “I was taking a walk” he replies, almost too casually.

“Alone?” Robin echoes him, eyes narrowed with curiosity.

“Uh, no, actually” Steve coughs, “I was with Tammy Thompson”.

Robin’s eyes widen visibly as she turns towards you. “See? I told you” she almost yells, punching the water to underline her annoyance.

“What?” Steve exclaims, dropping his hands in frustration.

“Oh, nothing, Steve” Robin replies, a full-on fake smile plastered on her face, “But you can call me Cassandra from now on”.

“Who’s Cassandra?” Steve asks you with a confused look, “Do I know her?”

You’re refraining from exploding into a heartfelt laugh at their exchange, but you manage to stay serious even when Robin mutters out a stressed “Jesus”.

“Sorry to break it to you, Steve” you tell him, patting his shoulder, “but she’s a mythological lady. You can’t date her”.

“But you still have Tammy Thompson, if you need to spend the night with someone” Robin chips in, “if you haven’t already - spent the night with her, I mean”.

Steve scoffs, splashing some water in her direction. “I’m not like that” he talks back, “I’m a gentleman. I would never impose myself on someone I barely know. We just talked, walked around a bit-“

“Exchanged some saliva” Robin interjects under her breath, a smirk appearing on her lips at Steve’s frustration. Her growing amusement is a clear sign that she’s already gotten over the initial blow.

“…and that’s it” Steve remarks, “I walked her to her cabin and I went back to mine. Because I’m a responsible guy, and I didn’t want to be late”.

“That’s a good boy” Robin jokes, pushing him slightly, but making him smile a little. “So your secret for staying this handsome is getting lots of beauty sleep, uh?”

“I wish” Steve replies with a sigh. “I actually slept like shit because I had to endure Munson’s flashlight all night. When I came back he was scribbling something into a notebook and he might as well have fallen asleep at dawn, because I had to drag him out of bed or he’d have missed breakfast”.

At the mention of Eddie, your attention peaks.

“Did you see what he was writing?” You ask Steve, tiny waves of water rippling around you as you swim towards the pier - the sun is starting to lower on the horizon and the water is now cold, rather than refreshing.

“Honestly, I didn’t even try” Steve replies, following you and athletically lifting himself up on the wooden platform. “It’s not like it’s any of my business, you know? And maybe he wasn’t even writing, he could have been doodling or whatever”.

“Maybe he keeps a diary” Robin suggests, grabbing your hand as you help her up.

“Could be” Steve observes, “even if I don’t see what could possibly be so interesting that he has to write about it all night”.

“Maybe it was music” you suggest, throwing your towel around your shivering shoulders. “He’s in a band, you know”.

Steve and Robin both look at you, eyebrows up in surprise.

“And how would you know that?” Robin asks.

You shrug casually. “We talked a bit” you reply as you start walking back towards the cabins. The others follow quickly after you.

“Talked like Steve talked to Tammy?” Robin elbows you, her question followed by an annoyed scoff from Steve.

“Ew, Robin" you instinctively reply, “of course not”.

Robin puts her hands up in defense. “Okay, sorry for suggesting that you may like someone - you know it’s not a crime, right?” She observes, throwing one arm around your shoulders, “I mean, it’s not like I trust your taste in guys that much, but you’re the one who always tries to convince me that he’s such a good guy-"

You throw her a burning glare that makes the words die in her mouth, but you can’t stop the knowing smirk that has just formed on her lips.

“You could ask him tonight” Steve suggests once you reach his cabin. You throw a quick glance in its direction and realize that it’s empty - and you don’t know if you feel relieved or disappointed.

“What do you mean?” You ask Steve as your mind goes back to his suggestion, your hands tightening the towel around your body as a light gust of wind makes its way through the trees.

Steve crosses his arms on his chest, tilting his head as he speaks again. “About what he was writing. You could ask him tonight at the bonfire”.

You still can’t follow, so you turn to Robin with an inquisitive look - but her shaking head reveals that she has no clue as well.

“Oh, yeah right, I haven’t told you” Steve adds once he’s met by your confused eyes. “Jeff told me they’re planning to have a bonfire night” he explains, “it was that other guy’s idea - Gareth, I think he’s called. Munson will be there too, and when they came to our cabin to plan it, Jeff invited me. He said that I could bring you two as well and that there will be booze, so I figured why not”.

“How come you’ve just got here and you’re already making more social connections than us?” Robin asks him, “Thanks for the invite, though. I’m bringing marshmallows” she adds as she begins walking away, brushing past Steve with a shake of her head.

You move to follow her, but you don’t leave before sticking a finger at Steve. “I’m coming, but I’m not asking him anything” you specify, eager to make it clear that you have no interest in meddling with Eddie’s business - and, privacy, for all that you know.

Steve puts his hands up, not a care in the world. “As you wish, y/n”.

— 🏕 —

The lively and vibrant mood of Camp Lovers Lake doesn’t disappear during the night - instead, it transforms into a different kind of atmosphere.

As you and Robin sneak out of your cabin, flashlights still turned off in your hands, you can’t help but smile at your surroundings, apparently calm and peaceful as a dreamless night, but secretly awake with young life. Everyone is supposed to be asleep, but here and there little flashes of light glitter in the dark, peaking from half-drawn curtains and ajar wooden doors. Every now and then, a faint giggle echoes through the trees, followed by the rustling of leaves as pairs of tennis shoes tiptoe on the shadowy edge of the two paths running through the cabins.

You perfectly know that campers are sneaking around and meeting in each other’s cabin, some of them occasionally wandering in the closer areas of the grove around camp. But you haven’t always been a counselor, of course: you remember your own camper days so well that, with an unspoken understanding with the rest of the team, you let them be - knowing that they are perfectly aware of the consequences of getting caught or lost (and surely no camper wants to be either) while you’re ready to step in if necessary. After all, you’re sneaking around as well - but this time with a six-pack under your arm, which you very innocently smuggled among your clothes when you were packing, thankfully without your mother noticing.

Robin’s elbow gently nudges your side and brings your attention to the now completely dark Headquarters, standing wide and wooden at the end of the empty trail in front of you. You two have been crouching behind a tree for some time, waiting for the official lights-out that has just occurred - followed like clockwork by the chirpy chattering of the director and the rest of the staff, who are now closing the main door of the building before heading towards their own separate rooms at the back of camp. Apparently, they’ve been hanging after hours as well - probably sipping on that badly hidden Scotch you’ve spotted behind the oil cans in the kitchen.

“You’ve wanted to wait here and now I’m all cranky” Robin whispers under her breath, “at least pay attention - they’re gone”.

“Tell me how we were supposed to spot the lights going off from our room” you remark as you straighten up, peaking behind the tree to check if the road is clear.

Robin attempts to speak, but ends up opting for a grunt as you gently grab her wrist and make her follow you into the dark. You walk silently towards the Headquarters, turning right towards the bathrooms when you reach the end of the path.

Next to the separate wooden structure that hides the camp showers, three intermittent flashes of light announce Steve’s presence. Being the gentleman that he is, he suggested Jeff and the others go ahead and start setting up the fire while he waited for you - a very gallant gesture that also allowed him to take a few extra minutes to complete his hair routine.

As soon as you and Robin spot him, you close the distance between you and him with a few more steps, until you’re all grouped up at the edge of the woods.

“Ten sharp - perfect timing” Steve announces, his eyes briefly glancing at his wristwatch as he spins the flashlight in his other hand. “Ready to go?”

“Yup. We’ll lead the way” Robin enthusiastically replies, quickly throwing and catching in the air a bag of marshmallows before opening it and picking one to nibble at while you walk.

“Jeff told me the spot is on the shore - are we going in the right direction?” Steve hesitates as he realizes that you’re moving towards the trees and bushes across from the Headquarters.

“Dear Steve” Robin addresses him, her grin shining in the night as she turns her head around to face him, “do I really need to remind you that it’s not the first time we’re heading to a secret bonfire, so we’re going to take the shortcut counselors have been using for years to reach the only spot near the lake that is not visible from camp so that no one notices that we’re setting up an illegal fire?”

You let out a small chuckle as you catch Steve’s surrendering look in the flashlight gleam, wondering what he would say if he knew that yes, you and Robin have taken that path before, but just to find some privacy and silence to read or chat without anyone interrupting - and that this was, actually, your first time at a secret bonfire, too.

Not that you and Robin didn’t have friends at camp. You knew basically everyone and often participated in counselor-only events like horror movie nights or board game tournaments in the meeting room. But you’d never formed a closer group of friends, an inner circle to share other kinds of experiences with - like adventures that weren’t exactly allowed or performed in the daylight, such as late-night swimming or, indeed, lakeside bonfires.

It was mostly because you and Robin got along so well and had known each for such a long time that you enjoyed your company more than anyone else’s, cracking inner jokes or laughing at shared memories. But it was also hard to get closer to others (campers first and counselors later) when every friendship circle was, by now, clearly defined. It was a bit like school, to be honest.

That’s why you've brought the six-pack with you this year: together with Robin, you've made the decision to expand your duo a little, and alcohol seemed like the perfect excuse to do so. Sure, hanging out with Steve Harrington this much wasn’t exactly what you expected - even if he was inexplicably close to your brother Dustin, you’d never shared more than a few words and greetings with him and he’d always looked a bit too much on the popular side for you. But, since he seems to be a well-fitting addition to your small group, you guess that he can count as a new friend. He is, after all, a nice dude.

While you reflect on this, you keep walking in the dark, making your way through the vegetation that has been running uphill for the last few minutes.

“Got it” Robin exclaims after a while, grabbing a tree branch for support as she lowers herself to climb down a small crag on the side of the path, back towards the lake.

Through the now sparse woods, you catch a glimpse of bright red light and you overhear laughter and chatter. You’ve finally reached the bonfire spot and, as you reach out to grab the same tree branch Robin has just used, your heart skips a little beat - which, for now, you blame on the excitement of doing something new and forbidden.

“Need help there?” Steve proposes, holding out his hand for you to take, but you’re already down with Robin. “Okay, then” Steve shrugs, shaking his head at the rejection as he climbs down and catches up with you.

You scramble through the last few bushes and finally get back into the open air. This side of the lake looks like a little cove: the shore curves softly towards the hill at your back, creating a short but thick strip of sand and pebbles that’s blocked at its sides by big rocks scattered with wild plants.

You can’t see the few permanent lights of camp from here, which means two things essentially: first, your group and the fire that’s blazing in the middle of the cove can’t be seen, either; second, as your gaze lifts up to the pitch black sky, a myriad of glittering stars invade your eyes, making your head spin with their beauty and multitude as you walk towards the trio waiting for you around the bonfire.

“Hey guys! You made it!” the boy that must be Jeff exclaims, welcoming you as soon as he spots you. When he speaks, two other figures turn away from the fire and in your direction, revealing Gareth and Eddie with a beer in their hands.

You timidly wave at them and your heart unexpectedly skips a beat once again. Gareth waves back with a warm and kind smile, a slight contrast to his very metal and not-so-summer-camp look: a black and red checkered shirt with ripped sleeves, layered over a Black Sabbath t-shirt. You’ve never seen him without the camp uniform, so it takes you aback a little bit - but not as much as seeing Eddie does.

He’s standing tall against the red light of the fire, a black and worn-out leather jacket draped on his broad shoulders, shielding him from the cool breeze that’s rustling his long curls. Underneath the jacket, you catch a glimpse of a t-shirt with a devilish logo on it, the thin cotton clinging to his abdomen and tucked into his jeans. A denim vest adorned with multiple pins and patches completes the look, somehow making him look even taller and broader.

He looks like the ultimate version of himself, one that makes him feel more confident and in his element, and it’s showing - in his stance, in the way his head slightly tilts while taking a sip of his beer, in the way his fingers drum on the glass of the bottle, which tinkles against the steel of his rings. For the first time since you’ve known him a few days ago, you clearly realize how good he looks. Especially when he throws you one of his upside-down grins to return your wave.

“Yeah man, thanks for the invite” Steve replies to Jeff’s greeting, snapping you back into the moment as he high-fives and fist-bumps him like they’ve known each other for years.

Both Eddie and Robin look at the exchange with eyebrows raised and a surprised look, before glancing at each other inquisitively.

Steve mouths a curious “what?” in their direction as you all step closer to the fire, taking a seat on random rocks and battered trunks that the guys have placed around the flames.

Your six-pack is placed near the water, so that the slow, cold waves refresh the cans with their constant flow; three more beers from another pack are handed to you by Gareth and Robin’s marshmallows get stuck on thin branches that Jeff collected from the woods, ready to burn and sizzle on the fire.

You’re sitting on a tree trunk next to Steve and, after a while, you end up discussing animatedly with him and Gareth about the best movie of the year - a match that has come down to Steve’s choice, Back To The Future, and yours and Gareth’s pick, the upcoming The Goonies.

“How can you vote for a movie that you haven’t even seen yet?” Steve’s exclaiming, but you distractedly miss Gareth’s heated remark as you throw a casual glance at Eddie.

He’s sitting on a flat rock to your left, so you can only see his side profile. The flames of the bonfire cast flashes of red and orange on his face, in a dancing game of shadows and light that enhances his features. He’s talking with Jeff and Robin about music and guitar brands, his hands fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. Your eyes follow his fingers and the glittering reflection of the fire on his multiple rings as he extracts one and places it between his lips. His eyebrows shoot up as he laughs at something Robin says, lips jerking up in a smirk that shows the brown tip of the cigarette between his white teeth.

You unconsciously match his smirk with a small smile of your own as he bows his head a little to light the cigarette, the tiny flame flickering for a few seconds in his deep brown eyes. As he lifts his head back up, wavy hair bouncing at the side of his face, their chocolate irises turn to meet yours for a brief instant - making you blush in the dark as you snap back to Steve and Gareth’s conversation.

“If you put it like this” Gareth is saying, “then I’ll go for Cat’s Eye”.

Steve firmly shakes his head as he takes a bite of his burnt marshmallow, chasing it with a sip of beer. “Never heard of that one” he states as he gulps the mix.

“Are you crazy?” Gavin sighs, “Three Stephen King stories and Drew Barrymore? That’s the recipe for the perfect horror movie”.

Steve shrugs. “Not a big fan of horror, to be honest” he replies. “Not my genre. It’s not even that scary most of the time”.

“I bet you couldn’t go through a full horror movie, though” you joke, nudging Steve's side and causing him to look down at you with a defiant look.

“Try me” he simply states, causing you to roll your eyes with a scoff.

“It’s not like we have a VHS player and a tv at hand right now” you reply, sipping on the last of your beer.

Gareth chips in with a mischievous smile, nodding towards Steve. “I think I might have just the right alternative. Hey, Eddie” he exclaims, causing his friend, Jeff and Robin to turn towards you. “Why don’t you tell Harrington about Creel House?”.

An owl hoots in the background as Eddie stares at Gareth with a questioning look, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth. “Like, right now? Why?”

“Y/n here said Harrington wouldn’t last through a horror movie” Gareth explains, throwing you a complicit wink, “so let’s give him a chance to prove her wrong. If there’s something as scary as a horror film, that’s our very own, real-life haunted house”.

“There’s a haunted house in Hawkins?” Robin curiously wonders as she stuffs her mouth with a couple more marshmallows.

Jeff looks at her in surprise. “You’ve really never heard of it?” He asks, his eyes darting between her, Steve and you just to be met by hesitant denial from every direction.

“Alright then, ladies and gentlemen” Eddie sighs, putting out the half-smoked cigarette, “let me present to you a story of satanic worship, ritual sacrifice… and murder. Told to you as my own uncle Wayne told it to me” he theatrically declares, placing his now empty bottle of beer on the ground as everyone huddles closer to the fire - and to each other. Which means that now you can feel the thick denim of Eddie’s jeans brush lightly against your skin, as his knee grazes your leg for a second.

“Imagine Hawkins back in 1959” Eddie begins, his voice lowering and almost becoming one with the crackling of the fire, the chirping of the crickets in the woods behind you and the soft sound of the water washing up on the shore of the lake. “Everything all tidy and clean, front yards perfectly well kept, people always dressed up with their best clothes. A very nice place, quiet and neat - and very beautiful new houses popping up at every corner and at the end of every cul-de-sac. A small town paradise, you could say”.

You listen attentively to his every word, the lilt in his voice and the ever-changing movements of his hands capturing you in the story.

“One day, a new family comes to the delightful, safe haven of Hawkins - Mr. Victor Creel, with his wife Virginia and his little kids Henry and Alice. They’ve just bought a beautiful house, and it’s huuuge. There are rooms everywhere, and they settle in nicely. But-“ Eddie continues, his index finger shooting up as he speaks, “something is not quite right. After a month or two, one dreadful night changes everything: possessed by a sudden, maddening rage, Victor Creel slashes his whole family - not even the kids make it out alive. When the police arrive, they find them in the entrance hall and oooh boy, that’s a dreadful scene: every bone in their body is broken and twisted, their faces frozen in a cry of horror… and their eyes are gone in a pool of blood”.

As he suddenly roars those last words, he lifts up his arms and covers each one of his eyes with one hand. Across from you, Robin gasps loudly, causing Jeff and Gareth to snicker under their breath. Next to you, Steve seems quite unfazed.

“The official version of the event that the police came up with is that he lost his mind, just like that” Eddie says with a snap of his fingers as he picks up the story again, his sing-song tone back to normal. “So that is why he’s locked up into Pennhurst, where they are still studying his case today. However, some suggest a different story - and one of them is Victor Creel himself”.

“That’s my favorite part” Gareth chips in, popping another bottle of beer open as Eddie resumes speaking, the flames of the bonfire glittering in his eyes.

“Mr. Creel claims that his family was killed by an evil, vengeful demon” Eddie reveals, nodding as Robin whispers a soft no way. “He says that he tried to call an exorcist, but it didn’t help. So, the demon got even angrier and killed his lovely kids and wife, sparing him as a form of punishment. So, what is the truth? Did he attempt to summon a spirit and it turned wrong? Did he make a pact with the devil and didn’t respect his terms? Was he just a crazy psychopath always one step away from murder? No one will ever know” Eddie concludes, his gaze going over the astonished audience with satisfaction.

“What’s even crazier, though” Gareth steps in, addressing a still unimpressed Steve, “is that the old house is still standing. And some people swear that sometimes, when you pass by it on the street after sunset, you can see flickering lights coming from its broken windows. Even if no one’s been living there for years”.

“Well, that’s strange” you observe, a shiver involuntary running down your spine - probably due more to Eddie’s storytelling skills than to the actual story.

Steve shrugs in response. “I’ve seen stranger things” he replies, his voice apparently calm - but you catch the way in which, at the mention of the flickering lights, he tightens his grasp on a piece of wood sticking out from the trunk where you’re sitting.

“Well done, Steve Harrington! You’ve passed the test” Robin jokes, throwing a piece of candy at Steve - which he manages to avoid with a swift movement of his head.

“Was that really necessary?” He questions her, pointing at the marshmallow on the ground as they start bickering under the amused looks of Jeff and Gareth.

A gentle nudge on your leg makes your head turn.

“Scared?” Eddie simply asks you, the light from his tilted smile reaching his eyes as they set on yours. His knee doesn’t move: it keeps leaning against your thigh, and even if it’s just a tiny contact spot you can still feel the heat of his body warming you up.

“It was creepy, I’ll give you that” you reply, the thought of him being so close to you weirdly stuck in the back of your mind. “But I think the scared one was actually Robin” you add, nodding towards her - who’s still arguing with Steve about the stickiness of marshmallows.

Eddie follows your gaze and lets out a soft chuckle at the sight of your friends, then quickly turns his attention back to you. This time, however, he’s staring at your exposed legs.

“Oh, but I see chills” he observes with a knowing smirk as he notices the tiny bumps on your skin. “That’s a pretty obvious sign, y’know?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Munson” you jokingly retort, this time nudging him with your leg, “they’re from the cold”.

It could have sounded like a blatant excuse, but it’s gotten quite chilly since you first arrived at the bonfire spot - so, yes, now you’re shivering slightly and wishing you’d brought more than a cotton sweatshirt to camp. It also doesn’t help that the fire is significantly milder, its flames almost reduced to a cluster of burning embers.

After a while, indeed, everyone starts feeling the drop in the temperature too - and as soon as the first yawns start interrupting your conversations, you realize it’s probably time to head back.

So, once you’ve made sure that the bonfire is completely extinguished, with Gareth even throwing a handful of sand and some lake water on the burnt wood, you start heading back towards the trail that leads to camp.

If coming down from the downhill that led to the shore was relatively easy, climbing back up to get to the woods is definitely harder. Eddie and Gareth go first, grabbing random branches to get some leverage and push themselves up; Steve and Jeff, instead, stay behind to let watch yours and Robin’s back.

You take a few steps ahead, Eddie and Gareth looking down on you and reaching out with their hands. “I think I can make it” you say, closing your fist on a thick branch and sticking a foot in the steep ground in front of you. You manage to lift yourself up and almost make it to them - but as you’re about to put your other foot to the top, the branch suddenly snaps, making you gasp in shock.

You don’t fall back, though. A hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, swiftly pulling you up and making you crash into something soft - which, you soon realize, is Eddie’s chest.

“Got ya” he says, letting you free of his grasp once he’s made sure you’re steady on your feet. Caught in surprise, you instantly take a step back - but the feeling of the softness of his body beneath the cotton of his shirt is burned on the palm of your hands.

“Thanks” you mutter, stepping aside to let Robin come up and mentally scolding yourself for being, once again, way too clumsy. And, also, desperately wondering why you’re blushing so violently.

Thankfully, though, it’s too dark for anyone to notice; and as you all make your way back to your cabins, the night grows even more pitch black. Until, a few hours later, the first slivers of faint yellow light start lingering over the horizon.

— 🏕 —

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Feedback is always welcome!

Taglist • @meaganjm @emwhite1 @juggernort @final-girllll @mermemerald @sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack @stardustworlds @eddiesbirdie @carolineesnell

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #camp lovers lake #eddie munson fluff #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x henderson reader #henderson reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson slow burn

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kisses4butterflies · 3 years

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These are all from like the solid year I was obsessed with the idea of rewriting Maximum Ride as webcomic. For a lot of these pieces, halfway through I would suddenly drop the process because I became overwhelmed with the idea of self publishing the entire three part series I had constructed in my mind. Burning out was really easy, and so drawing for this started to feel more like a chore rather than something fun to spend my free time with. I learned a lot though, my art has significantly improved and I feel it’s really highlighted the things I love (and maybe love less, 👀 @ James Patterson) about the art of storytelling. I think this has also taught me to spent less time THINKING about the stories I want to make and more time MAKING them, even when I’m super bored and thinking them up stimulates my little attention deficient brain 😌😩 hehehe. If any one sees this post and wants to see more of my MR sketches lmk! There is plenty to go around 😳

💕💕💕💕I also really want to thank all the people who encouraged me and left really sweet comments in the hashtags, trust me I read ALL of them lol 💕💕💕💕💕

#maximum ride #my art #mr #art #burnout #artist burnout #sketches #webcomic

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Moments We Knew // Colin Bridgerton

Request: Hello! I’m so excited that you’re writing for Bridgerton and I was wondering if I could request a fic? Maybe one where Colin is courting the reader, what it would involve and their first kiss? Basically just some Colin fluff that’s too sweet :)) - anon

A/N: Oh this request is so sweet! Thank you so much for requesting! I can only hope I have done it justice. The other requests in my inbox will become my priority for next weekend!

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: female reader, courting, courtship, fluff, cute, mentions of food and drink, the British Museum is mentioned (I have to apologise for that lol), kissing, pining, instant love, love at first sight and all that jazz.

Word count: 4k

One:

“Miss (Y/L/N), would you do me the honour of saving me a spot on your dance card?”

Your eyes widen at his words, but you nod your head regardless, unable to deny the blue eyes and sweet face of Colin Bridgerton.

“I shall find you soon,” He promises before walking away, leaving you to question the last few minutes of your life.

You had spoken to the Bridgerton before; had dined in their company too, but you had never danced with one. It was to be something you would never forget, that was for certain.

Strolling around the ballroom, you truly did not hold much hope for tonight. Having been out in society for a few seasons now, you did not think there would be much interest tonight bar the Bridgerton who had kindly asked you to save him a dance.

Sighing softly, you reach the table covered with glasses of lemonade. Reaching for one, you eye the couples already taking to the floor for the first dance of the evening. Eager young hopefuls, all curious to know whether they would meet their love match tonight.

A flicker of excitement begins to stir as the music begins the couples start to twirl across the floor; the women’s skirt billowing out from under them as the men look every dashing in their suits. You think to Colin, wondering briefly where he is as you think of how it would be to dance with such a man.

“Did you save me that dance?” A voice asks from behind you.

Startling slightly, you only just manage to keep hold of your glass. “I have,” You reply, holding up your dance card where Colin’s name is written.

“Perfect,” He grins, “Shall we dance now?”

“Why not?” You answer, placing your glass down and taking his open hand.

Colin’s hand is soft as he places it on the small of your back, pulling you to him ever so slightly. Your hand rests on his shoulder whilst his free hand wraps around yours. Your skin tingles in all the places his hands rest; it’s an addictive feeling, you come to realise.

The band strikes up and the couples on the floor begin their dance. Colin begins to lead you with confidence; evidence of his upbringing alive in the way he directs his feet whilst holding you steady. Dance lessons were a must for all offspring of London society; it was not a gendered activity.

“How are you finding the evening?” Colin asks, leading you across the floor.

“Am I to be truthful?” You ask, smiling coyly at the brunette.

“I find that would be best,” Colin responds, his own sly smile written across his face.

“Then I shall have to say that I was rather bored until you asked me to dance. This is sure to be the highlight of my evening.”

Colin spins you out before replying. “How odd,” He murmurs quietly though you hear him perfectly over the band, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

A startled laugh leaves you at his words; one that Colin finds himself joining in with as he continues to lead you around the ballroom. Many couples watch on; curious to know what it is that has you both laughing and smiling the way that you are. You find yourself delighting in the act that you are to have a secret with the third eldest Bridgerton; a secret you could revisit whenever you wanted.

The dance comes to an end; the music rising for one last crescendo before falling silent. Stepping back from the Bridgerton, your chest rises heavily due to the pace of the music and the dance. You smile softly at Colin, “Thank you for the dance. It was wonderful.”

“Join me for one more?” He asks; his voice close to pleading as if he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, doesn’t want to see you walk away from him without knowing if he’ll ever see you again.

Your eyes wander over his face; finding the desperation in his eyes and noting that you feel the same way. You find yourself hating the idea of walking away from this man just yet; not just because of how much fun you had had when dancing with him, but because you feel that if you were to walk away from him in this very moment, you would be making a choice you would surely come to regret.

You take his hand; revelling in the way his fingers close around yours as he leads you to the dancefloor once more. Lining yourself up, you do not look away from his blue stare, finding yourself enraptured by him and more than happy to stay that way.

The music begins, and once more, you fall into step with your future.

Two:

Wandering into the drawing room, the previous night felt like a dream. The ache in your feet being the only sign that you had indeed danced the night away with the third eldest Bridgerton.

“Good morning, mother,” You greet, settling down at the small tea table.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” She asks; her eyes bright with happiness as she takes in the dazed look on your face, already away with the fairies.

“It was wonderful,” You sigh dreamily; remembering how Colin’s hands felt on the small of your back and how he listened to your every word. It felt too good to be true.

“I would not be surprised if he called on you this morning,” Your mother declares from her place by the window. She often sat there; her legs tucked underneath her as she worked on a new stitching pattern, read a new book or simply stared at the view.

“I do not want to get my hopes up,” You confess, fiddling with your fingers nervously. All night you had dreamed of the Bridgerton; his eyes and his smile, the sound of his laughter. If he chose not to call on you, your heart could surely not take it, not after so many seasons of disappointment.

Your mother smiles, “My dear, I feel it within my bones. He shall call on you this morning.”

“Thank you, mother,” You reply graciously before pouring a cup of tea; one for you and the other for your mother. “It looks to be a fine day,” You comment, making light conversation as you add sugar and a splash of milk to your own tea, stirring until you know it will be just the right temperature for you to drink without burning the roof of your mouth and your tongue.

Your mother hums from her place at the window, sipping delicately at her own tea. Suddenly, she sits straighter, her eyes and ears focusing on the streets below. “I do believe a carriage has just pulled up with the Bridgerton initial on its doors.”

“Mother, you jest.”

“I do no such thing,” She protests, stepping away from the window as she catches sight of the dark brunette hair of the Bridgerton boy.

“How do I look?” You worry, now taking your mother seriously, standing to smooth down the patterns of your dress. Already wishing that you had changed into something more fetching than your everyday wear.

Your mother sidles over to you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “You look lovely, my dear,” She promises before taking a seat on the nearby couch, knowing that the conversation that was to take place was to be between you and the Bridgerton boy.

Sitting back down, you know you only have mere minutes to collect yourself before Colin walks through the drawing room door. Mere minutes to stop the bouncing of your leg and the worrying of your mind. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, already confident in the knowledge that what you feel for Colin is far from platonic and after last night, you felt somewhat confident that he felt something for you too.

“Mr. Colin Bridgerton,” The butler announces to which you stand, barely repressing the urge to fist your hands into your skirts out of nerves.

Colin strides into the drawing room; his eyes scanning the room only for them to light up when they land on you. A large smile spreads across his face and he steps further into the room. “I apologise if I am interrupting anything,” He states politely.

“There was nothing to interrupt other than some tea. Please help yourself,” Your mother smiles from her place on the couch; her eyes dancing between the two of you – a good match is the conclusion she comes to as she takes in the flush of your skin and the smile on Colin’s face.

Colin turns to your mother, bringing out a bouquet of flowers he kept hidden behind his back. “These are for you, Mrs. (Y/L/N).”

Your mother’s eyes widen as she takes in the humble but sweet bouquet offered by the young man. “Thank you,” She states, “They are most unexpected but are very beautiful. I shall have to find a vase.”

“You’re welcome,” Colin responds before bringing out another bouquet. Turning his attention to you, he holds out the delicate collection of flowers. “These are for you,” He murmurs, a note of vulnerability shining through his usual confidence.

“Thank you,” You reply, voice awed at the sight of the gorgeous colours; reds, whites and yellows making up the bouquet, brightening the room instantly. “I shall find a vase for them soon.”

“I had a lot of fun last night,” Colin whispers, his voice loud enough for you but quiet enough that your mother only hears mumblings.

Smiling widely, you reply, “I had fun too. I’ve never enjoyed dancing that much.”

“Me neither,” Colin agrees, thinking back to how it felt to hold you in his arms. He knew after his second dance with you that if he was to have a future, you would surely play a part in it. “Would you accompany me to the British Museum tomorrow? There’s an exhibit being shown that I have been told we simply must not miss.”

Blinking twice, it doesn’t take you long to think of an answer. “I would love to. I’ve heard nothing but good things about the exhibit. It’s a collection of Greek and Roman sculptures and art.”

“I have a soft spot for History, but I have not been yet. I thought it would be perfect for us to go together.”

“I think it would be perfect for us to go together too,” You whisper, your heart beginning to race at the thought Colin has put into your first outing.

Colin smiles; the act lighting up his face. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a golden stopwatch, frowning briefly at its face before slipping back to where it belongs. “I wish I could stay longer,” He laments, “But I promised my mother I would meet her this morning.”

“Go see your mother,” You smile, “I will get to see you tomorrow after all.”

Another smile at that has your heart beginning to sing. “Until tomorrow,” He promises, standing from his chair and reaching for your hand where he places a lingering kiss to the back of it. The very kiss itself holding many promises for the future that you could not wait to fulfil.

As the door closes behind the brunette, you let yourself fall back onto the chair with a smile gracing your face. Until tomorrow; you had to wait until tomorrow before seeing him once more.

Three:

The building loomed large as you tightened your grip on Colin’s arm. Your stomach a ball of nerves as you think of what this means; your very first outing together as a prospective couple. Things needed to run smoothly; you needed to calm yourself down.

Taking a deep breath, you hasten your steps to keep up with Colin’s long strides. He had been so excited on the carriage ride over; babbling about the latest exhibit on show for the masses. Whilst History was a subject you adored when in education, it was not something you had kept up since coming out as a debutante.

Whilst the art is spectacular, it is the sculptures that ultimately take your breath away. Strolling through the main hall, you cannot help but be completely taken in by the attention to detail of such creations and the very fact that they have managed to survive hundreds of years with minimal damage.

“They’re beautiful, are they not?” Colin asks.

“They’re stunning.”

“My older brother, Benedict, suggested this to me. He’s the artist in the family but knows of my love of history.”

“He sounds like a wonderful big brother,” You murmur, finding it hard to tear your attention away from the pieces of work.

“How are you finding it? Are you enjoying yourself?” Colin asks, his voice close to your ear.

“I am. It’s spectacular. It makes me wish I had continued my study into the subject.”

“You like History?”

“Very much so,” You smile, “My father used to sit me on his lap and tell me stories of the past.”

“Mine would do the same,” Colin murmurs quietly, remembering his youth with his father. How he would sit on the floor by his father’s feet and listen for hours about not only his father’s life but the creation of the country in which they live and its many countless invasions.

“How are you finding it?” You ask, bringing him back to the present. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am, but I have to admit it is more the company than the art work, no matter how stunning.”

“Colin!” You gasp, smiling widely, “You are a flatterer.”

He laughs; the sound reverberating off the marble sculptures and walls. “Only for you,” He admits when he calms down. “Only for you.”

His words bring a smile to your face, setting your heart racing in your chest. He could undo you with so few words; it was a miracle you were still standing.

The rest of the exhibit is much of the same; breathtaking sculptures and happy conversation with Colin. He doesn’t enjoy too much silence; rather, he asks you all sorts of questions about your childhood and your life in London. In kind, you ask him of his life and the travelling he did in his late teens/early twenties.

You find that not only is he kind and sweet, he is incredibly knowledgeable of not only life in England, but life and society in other countries. He speaks fondly of his time abroad, but as he regales you of tales of his travels, Colin finds no burning desire to travel abroad again. Instead, as he stares down at you, he finds that you rather hold everything he could need for the future.

It’s then that Colin decides he’s found what he needs for the rest of his life, and he’s found it in you. He supposes he should be laughed at; finding love so quickly, but it just feels right. Everything about you feels so perfectly right for him that he does not see the need to fight it.

He finds himself trying to fight the want to propose then and there. Instead, Colin hooks your arm through his as he leads you from the museum. Like a gentleman, he helps you into the carriage before joining you himself.

“Thank you,” You comment as the carriage sets off.

“Whatever for?” Colin asks, curious to what you should be thanking him for.

“For taking me to exhibit.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” He responds honestly. It was; the pleasure of the afternoon was entirely his because you brought out a side of him that he had never met before but found he rather liked. Colin had always been a man of the moment; rushing through his life so he could get to the next exciting part as quickly as possible. However, with you, he finds that he has no need to rush or to hurry. He finds himself excited for the journey he wants to take with you, and thanks his lucky stars that you saved a dance for him on your card.

The carriage soon rolls to a stop outside your home. Gathering yourself, you smile wistfully at the brunette who has so quickly made his home in your heart.

“Thank you for a wonderful morning and afternoon,” You state as you step down from the carriage with the help of your footman.

“Wait!” Colin calls, rushing out of the carriage, “Will you be at the picnic later this week?”

“I will,” You answer, excitement bubbling inside of you, “Will I see you there?”

Colin nods, “I was hoping you would want to promenade with me.”

“I would love to.”

From there, Colin leaves you with yet another kiss on your hand. As he walks away, you begin to wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against yours; what would he feel like, what would he taste like. The thoughts swirl around your mind for so long that you do not hear your mother call you to the drawing room. Instead, you wander to your bedroom where such thoughts plague you for the rest of the day and night.

Four:

Each season the richest families in London society gather together for a picnic in the park. To outsiders, it is a display of their money, of their status in society. To mothers, it is another opportunity for their daughters to be showcased to the many eligible men who flock to the families in need of a wife or perhaps, some free food.

Your mother and you had been invited by the Bridgertons; an excuse by their matriarch to better get to know you and your mother. Violet welcomes you both with a warm smile, asking you to sit and drink tea.

“How are you?” Violet asks, reaching for one of the many biscuits.

“I’m well, Lady Bridgerton. And yourself?” You reply, wanting nothing more than to be accepted by the mother of the man who had caught your attention so readily.

“I’m very well, dear,” Violet answers, soon falling into conversation with your mother.

You’re distracted by the sight of Colin playing with his youngest siblings; a hoop game that leaves them all laughing loudly when the hoop is dropped on the floor, rolling away from them with great speed. There doesn’t seem to be any logic to the game other than pure enjoyment when Colin suddenly looks up, as if he sensed your eyes on him.

It’s as if everything else melts away as your eyes meet. For you, there was only him. There was no sound; no distractions – just Colin and the smile of his handsome face.

“I think they will work well together,” Your mother admits to Colin’s, glancing between the soft look on your face and the happy smile on Colin’s.

Violet hums her agreement, catching sight of the way Colin’s eyes light up when he notices you sat with his family. Gregory soon pulls his brother’s attention back to him, but Violet doesn’t miss the glances he throws in your direction every chance he gets. Yes, Violet thinks to herself, you would match very nicely.

Laughter rains all around you as you continue to sit with the Bridgerton family; now having been introduced to its matriarch but also to Anthony, its head. A kind man and very devoted to his family; you felt welcomed by his smile and happy to find that he already knew of you.

Stealing a glance at the sky, you sigh in relief when you see that the fine weather was going to hold and that the picnic was going very well. A shadow crossing your eyeline has you frowning in distaste, but your frown doesn’t last long when you find that it is Colin standing over you.

“Shall we go on a walk?”

One:

Taking his outstretched hand, Colin begins to lead you down the winding paths of park, away from your families.

“Colin,” You laugh, “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” He laughs, holding onto your hand tighter as he pulls you round a corner.

“Surely you can give me a little hint,” You plead, curiosity beginning to get the better of you.

Colin shakes his head; an infuriatingly handsome smile on his face as he remains quiet about exactly where he is leading you. At this point, the both of you have wandered away from your families and the rest of London society. Instead, you walk through a quieter section of the park, one where paths are travelled but are not often frequented. Despite the nerves rattling your gut, you feel completely safe in Colin’s presence.

“I wanted to steal you away for a little while,” Colin says, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

“Steal me away?”

He nods; his grip on your hand tightening. “There were so many eyes watching us; my family and your family. Did you not feel even a little suffocated?”

Thinking back to the picnic and the shared looks between your mother and Colin’s, you would happily admit that you did start to feel the strain of their expectations. “I did start to feel our parent’s gaze,” You confess.

“Exactly. At least here we can be honest with one another without the pressure of our beloved mothers.”

“Honest?”

Colin nods, “Honest about what we feel.��

“What do you feel?”

“I see a future with you,” He admits, “I know that we have only begun courting, but I truly see it all with you. Do you see the same thing?”

“I see it all,” You confess, your voice hoarse with unspoken emotion.

“You do?”

Nodding your head, you answer, “I do. I see everything with you. When you left after we visited the museum, it took everything in me not to chase you down to ask you to stay.”

“I didn’t want to go,” He whispers, “I wanted to stay. I knew then.”

Through the confessions uttered by both parties, you have made your way closer to the gentleman. Your hands remain tangled by your sides; Colin’s fingers fitting comfortably with yours as he smiles softly down at you. His free hand raises slightly, brushes through the strands of hair that became loose on your quick getaway from your families. His eyes beg a silent question; the question that has bene on your mind since he left you on your doorstep last week.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks; verbalising his thoughts, handing you the power.

You just finish uttering your consent when Colin’s lips find yours, pressing against them softly. Taken by surprise, you gasp into the kiss but soon find your rhythm. You drop Colin’s hand so you can wind your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer to you to feel him pressed so tight against you. Your fingers run through the ends of his hair, only briefly noting its softness before letting yourself fall further into him.

Colin groans softly into the kiss; finally knowing what it is that you taste like – sugar and the tea you recently drank. A combination that only leaves him wanting more as his hands settle on the small of your back, gathering you against him as he tries to repress the urge to take more, more, more. It’s everything all at once; it’s overwhelming but it still doesn’t feel enough. Not as Colin takes control, not as his hands tighten on your waist, and not as you whimper softly.

Breathless and dazed, you pull away from Colin. His chest heaves as he keeps his grip on your waist, not wanting to step further from him. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath dancing over your lips as you try to catch your own. Slowly, a smile breaks over your faces and laughter begins to spill from your lips.

It doesn’t make sense; it doesn’t have to. It’s simply the beginning of your futures.

*******

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley

My taglist is still open! Drop me an ask if you would like to be added!

#colin bridgerton x reader #colin x reader #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton imagines #colin bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagines

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Artistic Intention

Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve's doing well in his life drawing class, but a new muse throws him for a loop in the back supply room.

W/C: 2,374

Warnings: NO MINORS, p in v smut, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding kink if you squint, swearing

A/N: Hey! I wrote this for @buckyownsmylife 1st anniversary challenge! I love me a good AU so I chose Artist AU+ exhibitionism. Happy tumblr-versary! I made Steve a shy boi in this lol. If you liked this fic pls reblog/comment!! Check out my other fics too! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

It’s 1:45pm and Steve is desperately trying to weave his way through the crowd of people before him. His art folio hits everyone and thing as he makes feeble attempts to apologize to everyone for the bulkiness of the case. He can’t be too apologetic though, he’s running late for his 2pm life drawing class and if he doesn’t make it the professor will close the door in his face.

This is the longest 15 minutes in Steve’s life, he figures. He finally makes it up the steps and jogs up the stairs. His folio hits his leg, he winces but doesn’t stop, he’s only got a few minutes to make it up to the second floor and get himself situated behind an easel. He’s nearly out of breath when he makes it to the second floor and he’s trying to check his watch while running for the door. Two minutes.

Steve bursts through the doors and exhales loudly, he’s not sure he’s ever felt so relieved. His feeling of relief is short lived and quickly replaced with embarrassment as he realizes every pair of eyes in the room is on him. Every pair except for one. The new model for class this week, you slowly turn your head to reveal sharp eyes and a coy smile. He feels himself blush under your gaze and mutters an apology before getting settled in an easel directly in front of you.

He tries his best to focus on getting his paper and charcoals set out in an effort to shrug off the mixture of humiliation and lingering anxiety he had about being late. He feels his heartbeat begin to steady and he lets himself relax a little bit.

“Good afternoon, everyone. We have a new model in class this week, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. She’ll be keeping her current pose for one hour and repositioning for the second half of class. Mr. Rogers, since you had no problem running late I assume you’ll have no problem staying late as well. You’ll clean up after class.” The professor concludes with a short nod.

Steve sighs but nods his head in acknowledgement. He catches you smirking in amusement again at him and he can’t help but to blush all over again. He feels just like he did in high school, embarrassing himself in front of pretty girls. He sighs and picks up a piece of charcoal.

Steve decides to get a proper look at you and almost regrets it when he chokes on his own breath. You’re gorgeous, you’re coy and charming, you’re a muse. He’s still blushing because you’re naked, and beautiful and the feeling of humiliation hits him even more. He’s been in this class before, he knows the models will be naked but none of them had ever caught his attention as more than a subject, none of them were you.

He takes his time admiring your natural curves and appreciates your figure. You are so full of natural beauty, your bare face is perfectly flawed and the sun shining through the window highlights your skin tone. He can see why you were chosen to model for class, you’re perfect. He has to discreetly adjust himself and shuffles his jacket into his lap as he feels his pants tighten. He’s flustered all over again and realizes everyone else is already ahead of him. He puts charcoal to paper and gets to work.

____

As class goes on Steve’s sketch is coming along nicely. He can’t bring himself to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time for fear of getting hard again. When he sends furtive glances your way he catches you looking back at him with that smile of yours. He swears at one point you raise an eyebrow at him like you’re amused by him. He brushes it off and keeps drawing.

Class comes and goes much faster than he anticipated. He wants to pack up and get out as quickly as he can when he remembers that he has to clean up the room. He lets out a groan and waits for everyone else to leave. Now it’s only you, him, and the professor who are left in the room.

“Mr. Rogers I’ve got to get out of here, I trust you can put easels away without incident?” The professor asks. Steve nods and the professor turns to you. “Thank you for your work today, you can collect your pay from the front office. I look forward to having you as a model for this class.”

You smile and nod, waving goodbye to him. By now you’ve slipped on a robe and are reaching for your bag but it feels like you’re lingering. It’s just now that Steve realizes the two of you are alone. He swallows thickly, trying not to pay attention to you out of the corner of his eye. He begins to pack away his own drawing but not before giving it one final assessment. He can’t help himself from his own critical eye, analyzing mistakes and appreciating triumphs.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Steve jumps in surprise, you’re peering right over his shoulder. He’s caught off guard by your presence and also by your voice, do you always sound this sultry?

He swallows and nods before taking a deep breath. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans he turns to face you.

“Uh, yeah. Yes it is. I don’t think it’s very good but I’m trying” He anxiously starts making excuses, assuming you hate it.

But you don’t. You just smile thoughtfully at him and nod.

“It’s good. At least, I think it is.”

“Th-thanks, thank you.”

“Do you always cut it that close or were you just hoping to stay late with me?”

Steve sputters at your boldness. He has to remind himself that he’s not that scrawny, measly kid he used to be. But he can’t help but feel like he is with his sweaty palms and short breaths.

“I, I um, I didn’t realize there’d be a new model. Was kind of expecting the old one. Not- not that there’s anything wrong with you, of course! I, sorry I didn’t mean to imply that, you’re- you’re beautiful too, you’re perfect really, I just. Oh jesus.” He spews the words out faster than his brain can keep up and he’s making a complete fool of himself.

He can’t bear to look at you, so he starts closing up easels and stacking stools. He doesn’t notice you ogling his muscles through his tight t-shirt.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask innocently.

“I-, um, yes. I think you’re very beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Steve answers honestly.

He moves some stools to the large supply room in the back of the classroom and you follow him.

“I think you’re beautiful too. And cute. You’re practically falling all over yourself, it’s sweet”

Are you talking to him? He still sees himself as he was back then, having a hard time thinking that anyone would look at him and find him attractive. It’s why he’s so beside himself now. You’re so completely beautiful and self-assured, there’s no way you’re talking to him. He sets down the stack he’s carrying and realizes you’re much closer than he thought. You’re inches away.

“What do you like the most about me? Is it my body? Don’t think I didn’t notice you readjusting your pants at the beginning of class.” You move even closer and Steve thinks you must be able to hear his heart beat because it’s about to come right out of his chest.

Your hands are on his chest and you have to lean up on your tip-toes for your lips to meet his ear.

“What do you say? You and me in this supply room? There’s hardly anyone here. Come on”

Steve feels like he’s dreaming, he has to check if he is. But then your hand reaches for his dick through his pants and he nearly doubles over from the sensation. He’s never been with anyone so brash and confident, your touch leaves a burning trail on his body.

“But- but what if someone comes in and sees?” He says, using every last bit of coherent reasoning he has.

“Isn’t that what makes it so fun?”

Oh, God. You. You. Smiling that devilish smile at him. He was weak in the knees and you took the opportunity to push him backwards onto a spare desk. You pulled him by the shirt collar to meet your lips and he let out a noise of surprise. Steve pushes his tongue into your mouth and lets out an obscene moan. You feel so good. He knew you’d feel good but not this good.

Steve’s large hands come to your waist and venture lower until he has a handful of your ass and grabs. You let out a little moan and nudge your knee between his legs and he grinds against it. You pull back to catch your breath when your hands go to the ties of your robes.

“We’re a little overdressed, don’t you think?”

Steve doesn’t need to be asked twice as he pulls his shirt over his head. Jeans have never felt so uncomfortable and he’s frantically trying to get himself down to his boxers. He swears he goes slack jawed when he looks back up at you. He’s already seen you naked, he just stared at you naked for hours, but you’re just as gorgeous as before but it’s the way you’re looking at him. Like he’s desirable, almost like he’s a piece of meat. It makes him feel wanted and reassured and he feels himself grow harder.

Your hands slip beneath the elastic of his boxers and slowly slide them down his legs. He can’t help but flush when you let out a small gasp at the size of him. He doesn’t want to get too big of an ego with it but he’s always known he was… gifted.

Before he can let anything go to his head he lets out his own soft gasp as you stroke him languidly. He can’t control his hips as they cant up into your hand. You grab his hand and quickly lead his fingers to your dripping pussy. Steve nearly melts when he feels how wet you are and slides two fingers in easily. He’s pumping them in and out and you let out tiny mewls as you kiss his neck.

There’s no more time for preamble though, you two need to be quick if you don’t want to be caught by some unfortunate custodian. You remove your hand from his cock and he takes his fingers out of your pussy and swears you whine a little. Feeling brazen himself, he makes direct eye contact with you and sucks his fingers clean. You bite your lip and squirm while he revels in the taste.

Reluctantly he takes his fingers out of his mouth and gets up to situate you so you’re sitting on the desk. You spread your legs wide for him and he takes in the sight, committing to memory. Maybe he can draw you like this some time. For now he takes a step closer but falters, remembering one fatal flaw in this whole plan.

“I… don’t have a condom”

You don’t look let down at all, you look excited in fact. Shaking your head, you explain to him.

“Doesn’t matter, ‘m on the pill. I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Steve might pass out before he gets the chance, the way you keep talking with that mouth of yours. He wastes no more time and positions himself at your entrance. He has one hand on his dick and the other on the back of your neck when he looks you deep in the eye and impales you fully in one go.

The moan you let out is pornographic and Steve uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth.

“We have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”

You nod silently and he removes his hand, opting to grab your hip instead.

He pulls back and begins to start pumping into you. He’s steady at first, trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly. Slowly he starts increasing his speed and the force that he uses is causing the legs of the old desk to scrape against the floor.

Your hand reaches and grabs his ass, pushing him deeper into your pussy. You feel so tight wrapped around him with no barrier and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. You’re trying to keep your moans quiet when he kisses you to silence them all together. He’s trying with all his might not to cum before you do.

His fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles. You have a harder time keeping quiet and you’re squeezing him like a vice. The friction on your clit and his dick hitting your G-spot perfectly is causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

“‘M gonna cum, please. Please don’t stop” You beg. Steve feels a wave of power surge over him now that you’re the needy one.

“Go on then, I’m not far behind ya. Wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.”

With a few moments more he has you seeing stars and you claw at his back and pull him close to you. He continues on in his movements and starts pounding into you in earnest chasing his own release. All you can do is hold on for dear life.

Steve makes one final thrust before he’s cumming deep inside you. The rush of warmth is welcome to you and you kiss his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. The only sound being both of your heavy breathing. Hopefully no one heard you.

Steve can’t believe what just happened. He met a gorgeous girl and she propositioned him in a public place all in the span of two hours. He realizes just how far he’s come from who he used to be. He looks down at you, your noses touching.

“So, what’s your name?”

#steve rogers x reader #artist!steve rogers #artist!AU #marvel fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #marvel x reader

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sketching-shark · 3 years

Note

I think it's the ironic fact that JTTW fans already know how DBK and Sun Wukong's friendship broke apart but are more curious on LMK versions of Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque were friends alongside falling out.

HA! Well, while it often does seem that way, I'm going to go ahead and be a complete snob in a Journey to the West purist kind of way by wondering how many Six Eared Macaque fans would consider themselves more JTTW fans or more Monkie Kid fans, or if they feel they're a mix of both...

I've seen a lot of people argue that these two works of fiction are their own thing and that as such Monkie Kid (and associated fanworks) shouldn't be expected to follow the canon of JTTW, and fair enough for some parts. I've also, however, seen people who argue for this complete separation seeming to use it as an excuse to not acknowledge or learn about ANY original aspects of characters such as Sun Wukong and the Demon Bull King, or even very important deities such as Guanyin and the Jade Emperor, and who as such end up making some pretty gross generalizations/assumptions about them even though they are of great religious and cultural importance.

For example (and while I know a lot of the fun people get from fan works is in exaggerating certain traits), Sun Wukong seems to often be presented with an "inherently" evil/thoughtless/chaotic character, while his intelligence, deep love of his family, genuine efforts to become a better person, & many acts of saving lives, as presented in JTTW, aren't even mentioned. I feel like a lot of this is due to the way he acts in Monkie Kid (while I maintain that this version of Sun Wukong seems to be Bad End Monkey King, he does do a lot of deflecting his issues with a show of humor/a carefree attitude & does seem really bad at communicating due to a fear of making things worse). Even so, the popularity of Thoughtless/Evil/Selfish Sun Wukong that doesn’t really allow for any of the nuance or a display of his beneficial traits as shown in JTTW does make me wonder how many people have been exposed to a good translation of og classic Sun Wukong...As I've said before, I've noted that a number of Chinese people on this site have expressed frustration with the fact that a good chunk of the monkey king’s Western audience seems to be getting their impressions about Sun Wukong, the Demon Bull King, the Six Eared Macaque, etc. from some mix of Overly Sarcastic Productions, Monkie Kid, and social media instead of from at least a translation of the original text, and it is true that a LOT of the nuance of these work and these characters can be very easily lost, especially if your drawing your information of them primarily from a cartoony version of the original source.

That would be an interesting poll though...out of curiosity, how many of you fine folk have read the break-up & fight between Sun Wukong and the Demon Bull King either in the original text or in a translation, or is your exposure to them primarily through Monkie Kid?

Again, I need to make it clear that I'm not Chinese & didn't grow up with the story, but I will admit for my own part that reading the DBK/SWK break-up in the Yu translation actually made me more curious about how their dynamic is going to play out in Monkie Kid than I am curious about what's going to happen with Mr. Macaque.

This is primarily because besides SWK’s fight with Princess Iron Fan and DBK being given a LOT of page space in JTTW, there seems to have been some serious stuff that went down between the three of them in the events post-JTTW and pre-the main plot of Monkie Kid...the last we see of DBK in JTTW (if memory serves correctly) was him being hauled off by a host of heavenly warriors to be judged for his crimes of not giving SWK the palm leaf fan & also eating humans. When Monkie Kid starts, however, we are told that DBK had emerged “from the Netherworld” & immediately starts wrecking everything around him. What this suggests--if Monkie Kid is something of a fan continuation of JTTW--is that DBK ended up being executed by the heavenly forces, but managed to fight his way out of the underworld in a manner somewhat similar to SWK, who we are told he is equal in strength to in JTTW. In that beginning fight of Monkie Kid DBK is also shown as so enraged that he won’t stop his path of destruction until SWK buries him under a mountain for 500 years. It’s never said in the show, but--and this is important--this is basically exactly what Buddha did to SWK to start him on the path of atonement. So there seems to be some very intentional parallels between SWK’s havoc in heaven & DBK’s havoc on earth, which may suggest that one of the things Monkie Kid SWK really wants is for his former dear friend, his sworn brother, to find a way like him to be less violent and thus ultimately less vulnerable to destructive and self-destructive behavior, and that the way he tried to start this was by giving DBK the same treatment he got when he was a raging warlord.

We are furthermore told that it was right after DBK was sealed that SWK disappeared for all those centuries, and while the impulse may be to write it off as him just wanting to enjoy himself (given a lot of his behavior in the show’s timeline), given the indications that this SWK may be deeply depressed, I feel like the answer could be something a lot more tragic...there seem to be a number of clues in Monkie Kid that while the journey of JTTW happened, something made it end disastrously, with SWK either assuming or knowing that Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, Tang Sanzang, and Bai Longma are dead. And per JTTW, this wouldn’t be the first time that he’s experienced a horrific loss, given the war with heaven and the burning of Flower-Fruit Mountain. And then right after THAT, it seems DBK emerged from the underworld, and so Sun Wukong was put into a horrific position: either murder his sworn brother, or let him continue to rampage & harm and/or kill who knows how many humans. SWK ultimately gives up his staff to do the repeat of “500 years under a mountain in solitary confinement route,” which as per JTTW he considers better than the alternative, but he immediately follows that by exiling himself. In JTTW SWK is a really sociable person who makes friends wherever he goes, but man, for this SWK...his life must at that point just feel like one failure after another, that in spite of all his best efforts he wasn’t able to save anyone he really cared about, and now he just trapped someone who was so important to him under a mountain & fated him to suffer the same things he had when he was in that position. How much more does he have to hurt his fellow yaoguai? How many more times does he have to choose between yaoguai and humans, feeling like no matter what he decides it’s just going to result in pain for him and/or his loved ones? I can easily imagine super sociable & easily upset (he cries a LOT in JTTW) SWK feeling like after sealing DBK, he just can’t do this any more. He just...can’t.

This is all just speculation, but knowing the JTTW backstory between SWK and DBK does, at least for me, make their Monkie Kid relationship a lot more intriguing than it might be otherwise. Especially now that DBK seems to actually be making some small steps to quell his constant rage & lust for power. He even saves SWK and Qi Xiaotian from an explosion/nasty fall in the season 2 special! The Bull family weren’t really present in season 2, but I really hope they make a comeback in season 3 (if/when we get it) precisely because Red Son, Princess Iron Fan, and especially DBK have such an involved history with SWK. Plus it would be really fun to see two old warlords trying to awkwardly make amends with each other & struggle to be good teachers & positive role models to their student & son.

In any case I feel this potential is more interesting than whatever fanfic The Six Eared “I’mma Plagiarize The Demon Bull King’s Backstory Of Being Best Friends with Sun Wukong” Macaque is creating lol.

#monkie kid #journey to the west #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk sun wukong #lmk dbk #lmk six eared macaque #anon answered

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duskholland · 4 years

Text

The Fame Game (Prologue) | Tom Holland

Summary ↠ There’s just something about Tom Holland that makes your blood boil. He walks around like he owns the world, always with an unhelpful quip or irritating smirk on hand. You can’t stand him, and your feud has burned hard and bright for three years. Everything changes following an explosive evening at the Oscars, when a questionable encounter with the paparazzi lands you in some hot water with PR... fake dating au; enemies to lovers; actor!y/n.

Word count ↠ 4.6k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol, paparazzi, swearing, discussions of misogyny and the corruption of fame, Tom and Y/N are both very petty, dramatic assholes.

A/N ↠ Ahhh it’s here! I was really shocked by how many people responded to the announcement post for the series -- I hope so much that this doesn’t disappoint anyone lol. This series is my baby, and I’m very excited to share it with you all. Before we dive into the fake dating, we must first explore a very critical evening for Tom and Y/N... hahahah. This was a lot of fun to write. Please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts! :D

(Tom’s in the FFH premiere outfit because I’m still in love with that fit, and the jury’s out for whether or not the actual Tom needs glasses to see; this version of him just uses them as a fashion statement lmao)

((The biggest thank you ever to V, mischiefandi, for being this series’ no.1 supporter and proofing this -- love you mate))

Series masterpost

ZERO: The Oscars (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and as you throw back your third glass of champagne of the evening, you let a small smile unfurl across your lips.

It isn’t your first time attending the Oscars, but it is the first time you haven’t felt utterly out of your depth surrounded by people of this calibre. When you’d first started in the acting industry, you’d found it incredibly unsettling to enter a room full of Oscar-winners. Even now you remember how your hands had felt slick with sweat as you’d nervously been introduced to Meryl Streep and Viola Davis, and how you’d felt imposter syndrome on a scale you’d never imagined possible. Time and experience have brought you many things, but most importantly, they have gifted you confidence. You’re 24 now, and the string of achievements and nominations tied to your belt is so impressive that they deem you no longer an outsider at the Oscars; instead, it’s as if you’ve been accepted into the fold.

But for all the enjoyment of the lavish after-party, you can’t stop your mood from plummeting. It’s all fun and games until your eyes sweep the room and settle on a smirking figure standing in the corner:

Tom Holland.

Just the sight of him makes your nostrils flare.

You think it must be true what they say: once you start to dislike someone, it’s as if every single thing they do irritates you. This is how you feel with Tom. Even the smallest, most insignificant details about him somehow manage to annoy you. You cannot stand the smell of his hair gel, and you detest the way he stubbornly refuses to mend his phone screen. Your teeth grit together every time you see that smug smirking grin hanging from his lips, and you get worked up by the way he always seems to swagger around as if he owns the room. The grievances fall into several categories: his aesthetic choices, his generally smug demeanour, and his irritating personality, and it all fosters your deep, unyielding disapproval of the man.

Tom infuriates you beyond belief - beyond words. And he’s standing across the room right now, staring at you over the rim of his wine glass with a teasing smirk hanging from his stupid lips.

You try to ignore him at first. You lick your lips and return your attention to a conversation with some of your co-stars. You know better than to try and approach anyone else tonight. Your reputation, as your PR team likes to put it, is ‘fragile’ at the moment. A string of uncomplimentary ex-lovers and a few disgruntled directors have shattered your pristine public image, making you regarded as both a rising talent and loose cannon by the media. There’s been a common trend recently of news outlets dragging your name through the mud, and the desperate words of PR as they’d begged you not to cause a scene tonight drift through your mind as you contemplate wandering over to Tom.

You know it isn’t in your best interests to engage with the man - no matter the occasion, your conversations always end explosively - but Tom is just standing there, staring at you persistently, and you just can’t help it.

Your tongue flicks out across your lower lip as you feel his hot gaze trailing around your made-up cheek. His eyes are intense - holding power over you, to the point where you have you excuse yourself from your conversation. An exasperated sigh slips past your lips as you turn around, preparing yourself for your encounter. Your stare finds him, and it follows Tom as he strides across the party towards you, one hand hanging easily from his trouser pocket as the other clasps an intricately engraved wine glass.

The frown on your lips deepens the nearer Tom gets, and as more details of his figure draw into focus. He’s got his chestnut waves slicked back tonight, with a few stray strands hanging out across his forehead. It makes him look dishevelled, but in a devilishly handsome sort of way - which makes sense, given you’re reasonably sure he must have some kind of relationship with Lucifer himself. Stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders is a deep burgundy suit, and it cages him in tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Your lips curl into a poisonous grimace as your eyes finally fall on the glasses perched on his nose; you’re sure Tom doesn’t even need glasses, and it riles you up to see him parading the frames as a fashion statement.

But perhaps the thing about his ensemble that annoys you the most is the fact that you can’t look away. No matter how hard you beg yourself, you can’t drag your gaze away from Tom’s swagger, or the tight hold he has on the stem of the glass, or the way his eyes dance with a dark, mischievous glint as he falls to a stop in front of you. Tom is many things to you, but it’s undeniable that you find him attractive, and that fact often keeps you seething well into the early hours of the morning.

“Y/N,” Tom greets, his voice dripping charm. “Lovely to see you again.” His thin pink lips twist up into a smirk, and you find yourself clenching your fingers into fists around the tender stem of your champagne flute.

“Tom.” You step forwards, and your lips catch at his cheek as you press a firm, unwavering greeting to his face. You feel his warm hand slip from his pocket, and it grazes across your hip as Tom holds you closer. “You look to be enjoying yourself.”

When you pull back, you linger near him, allowing Tom to return the gesture by pressing his hot mouth to your cheek. He smells of rich, overpowering cologne, and you scrunch your nose up as his lips burn against your skin.

“It’s quite the party tonight,” he returns, stepping back. Tom’s beady little brown eyes run across your figure, taking in the long designer gown and the decadent sparkly necklace hanging from your neck. He graces you with an approving nod. “Are you having a nice time?”

“I was.” You pause to take a long sip of champagne, finding comfort in the way the bubbles pop against your tongue. You hope the alcohol will help to take the edge off the way your heart has started to pound against your ribs. “It’s a shame you had to come over here and ruin my mood.”

“Couldn’t help but notice you were staring at me, love,” he says, “Thought maybe you had something you’d like to say to me.”

You feel a hot spike of irritation as his lips curve effortlessly around the word love. Tom has always been a fan of pet names. The ease in which they roll from his tongue in that smooth, accented voice never fails to charm the room, and though you like to think you’re immune to his allure, you can feel the word spinning around your head like a broken record.

“Not really,” you return coolly, maintaining your composure with the poise and precision of a seasoned actress. You even manage to flash him an apologetic smile. “No big award for you tonight, though? Must be heartbreaking.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Are you really still caught up on the BAFTA?” He asks, his voice lower and harder.

The mood between you dips, and instinctively you find yourself moving away into a quieter corner of the room. As you drift away from the hordes of celebrities guzzling champagne, it’s as if the facade between you breaks down. Your smirk becomes harder, your eyes less forgiving - and in return, Tom’s smile sours into a grimace, and he holds himself straighter. The masks you wear come off, leaving you both bare and exposed.

“No,” you respond darkly. You’re tucked away in the corner of the party, with your back almost against the wall as Tom lingers in front of you. Both of you have discarded your drinks glasses. “I couldn’t care less that you won the BAFTA, Tom. If the jury decided you were worthy, then you were worthy. I would have to be very unreasonable to disagree with the committee.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Y/N.” Tom tilts his head to the side, flashing the tips of his shiny white teeth as his mouth loosens into a wild smile.

“Fine.” You give him an excessive sigh, and you let your eyes drift towards his mouth. “I don’t buy it, Tom.”

Tom’s suit jacket breaks out into wrinkles as he crosses his arms across his chest. “You don’t buy what?”

“This act.”

Tom almost rolls his eyes again. “And which act are you referring to, Y/N?”

“The Mr Nice Guy Act, Thomas.” The way he flexes his jaw makes you lean nearer and smirk. “Everyone here thinks you’re such a wonderful man, but I see right through it.”

It’s hard to know precisely when your feelings towards Tom became so hostile, but you like to pinpoint the night of the BAFTAs in 2017 as the day you surpassed the point of no return. You were younger then - both of you - and things quickly got out of hand. You know Tom likes to pinpoint your ‘jealousy’ following his win and your snub at the awards show as the catalyst for your tumultuous relationship, but both of you know that night was the product of several cumulative events.

Your best friend had worked with Tom’s mate Harrison, all those years ago in 2016. You knew Harrison through her, and you got on well enough with him, so when the BAFTA academy had nominated both you and Tom as contenders for Rising Star, Harrison had orchestrated an exchange of phone numbers. However, given your packed schedule and press engagements, you had failed to respond to all of Tom’s attempts to contact you.

One thing led to another. Tom assumed you were dodging his texts and started bad-mouthing you to Harrison. Word travelled to you that this guy - the competition - was throwing shade to your name, and so you might have made a few choice remarks about him on Ellen and suggested that Tobey Maguire was the best Spider-Man. Whatever. It was all so petty and childish, and it’d escalated to boiling point on the night of the BAFTAs when Tom hadn’t been able to shut up and thrust his win right into your face - quite literally. You can still remember the way he’d clutched the trophy as he’d shown it off in all its grandeur.

Ever since then, your relationship has been poisonous. A case of miscommunication and petty jealousy turned hostile, and now you’re in far too deep to even think about mending the fractured dynamic.

“I am a nice guy,” Tom tells you. His eyes skim across your face, and you don’t miss the way they drag across the curve of your lower lip.

“As if.” You ponder which anecdote you should fall back on to prove your point, and it takes a while to select one: the pool of Tom’s past mistakes and moves against you is vast and wide. “Would a nice guy conveniently forget to invite me to Harrison’s birthday party?”

Tom winces, and something almost like regret flickers out across his face before he meets your eyes and hardens up his gaze. “I’ve already told you that was a case of miscommunication,” he says slowly, patronising. “I doubt you would have enjoyed it anyway, Y/N. Wasn’t exactly your type of party.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your hand finds your waist, gripping firmly at your flesh to stop your fingers from shaking. The way Tom looks at you so intensely makes you feel strung-out and bare, and it’s almost as if he can see straight through you.

“It was a small, intimate gathering. From what I’ve been hearing, you’re a fan of the larger, more explosive parties, aren’t you?”

You could throttle him. You could really, truly throttle him. You know with certainty that Tom’s referring to the latest smear the media had run against you, which had placed you at an illegal rave in Downtown LA and cost you a role in a film you were passionate about.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, Tom.”

“Maybe not.” Tom’s closer to you now. You find your back brushing up against the wall as he steps nearer yet again, his shiny leather shoes sparkling beneath the light curving out from the chandeliers. “I’d like to think I know you quite well, though, Y/N. We have known each other for several years.”

“I’d use the word ‘known’ very loosely if I were you. I think it’s more like, ‘been plagued by’, but you do you, Tom.”

He laughs, and this time the noise is lighter. You feel a little woozy from the champagne - or maybe it’s his cologne - and you let your hand wander up to rest on the top of Tom’s suit. You drag your fingers across the smooth material, marvelling at how soft the designer garb is to touch.

“Do you like my suit?” Tom asks, his voice lower than before. There’s a strange charge to the air between you, and you find yourself nodding.

“I disagree with the glasses, but your suit is decent. I have to admit that this colour looks flattering on you.” The bold burgundy tones bring out the warmth in his eyes, even if the stupid thin frames of his glasses obscure them. You watch as his pupils widen and feel the warmth of Tom’s breath as he inches in closer.

“Thanks,” he says. Tom’s hand winds around your waist. “Your dress is very nice.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. You briefly wish that you had another glass of champagne to keep you occupied because you find your other hand joining the first and finding purchase on Tom’s shoulder. He’s very close to you, and there’s nowhere left to move because you’d backed up against the wall. Fleetingly you wonder what it must look like, to be hidden away at the back of the party and caged in like this, but you decide that the flurry of heated emotions passing through his eyes and the way his thumb pads over your waist is worth it.

Neither of you says a word, but you watch through wide eyes as Tom’s gaze flickers out across your lower lip. He inches in closer, almost painfully slowly, his demeanour radiating a shaky confidence as he tilts the angle of his head. You watch the hard lines of his mouth dissolve, and his smirk melts away into something like a smile as his eyes flutter shut. Now Tom is very close - so, so close - and the gap between your mouths narrows by the second.

He’s going to kiss you. You know he’s going to kiss you. Why is he going to kiss you? Why are you going to let him kiss you-

“Y/N! Hey, congrats on the film. I saw it last week with my wife, and she loved it-”

Tom springs back. You gasp a short breath of air as your eyes widen, and the film of scattered emotions that had temporarily disarmed you shatters. Tom’s cheeks are bright red, and he doesn’t seem to know where to look or what to do as he jams his hands into his trouser pockets and stares at the floor.

“-Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?”

Your throat tickles as you shake your head, looking up to see Mark Ruffalo standing there, his expression relaxed but growing in confusion as he drinks in the awkward tension rippling between you and Tom.

“No,” you say immediately, a bite to your voice. You refuse to look at Tom. “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

Mark releases a breath of relief and launches back into his speech, complimenting you profusely on your performance. You become distracted as you listen to him, but not enough to forget about the way Tom had leaned closer and brushed his thumb across your side almost gently. After a few moments of conversation, you can’t stop yourself from glancing over towards Tom, only to notice that he’s slunk away elsewhere. His absence makes your heart twist.

Another hour slips away, and you find yourself returning to the Moët for release. You can feel your composure gliding away from you with each fateful sip. Tom seems to have vanished, and you find yourself questioning if he’s so embarrassed by your moment in the corner that he had to leave. You wonder if that would be better than him staying.

But eventually, your eyes seek him out, as they always seem to do. And you catch him chatting with a woman, his arm around her shoulders and his lips brushed against her ear. Tom seems to feel your gaze on him, and his deep brown eyes meet with yours. He raises his eyebrows and whispers something into the woman’s ear that makes her laugh, and it sends something whipping down your spine.

It isn’t just jealousy - it goes deeper than that. It’s the realisation that you could never get away with this behaviour. You know that if the roles were reversed and it was you who had been seen getting close to two men in one night, you would be assigned a whole host of derogatory names. The double standards that exist in this artificial world of cameras and headlines make you feel sick to your stomach. You are not jealous of the woman beneath Tom’s arm, though you will admit it makes you feel uneasy - it’s the hypocrisy of it all that makes you seethe.

“Excuse me,” you mutter to no one in particular. Tom’s eyes slip away from yours as you put down your empty glass and turn, heading in the direction of an exit. You wander the vast, glittering ballroom for a few moments before spying a door embedded in the back wall that leads out into a dark alleyway.

When you step out onto the street, the cold February air seems to bring your tipsiness to the forefront of your mind. You giggle softly to yourself and wrap your arms around your chest, your fingers rubbing rapid fiery circles across your exposed flesh as you try to drum up a heat.

You lean back against the wall and stare up at the vacant sky. LA is too polluted to see the stars, but you like to imagine they’re staring down back at you. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of laughter coming out from the hall, and out at the end of the alley you can see the street, cloaked in dark paparazzi vans and dim amber street-lamps, but tucked away up here alone, you feel at peace.

“Cinderella runs away from the ball, yet again.”

You scowl. Your eyes move away from the dark blanket of clouds to see Tom. He’s ditched the glasses, but you can see the legs sticking out from the pocket sewn to the top of his suit.

“Joined by her ugly pumpkin.” You screw up your nose at your own words, cursing your fizzled mind for messing up the tale. “That’s not right, is it?”

Tom approaches you, his cheeks full of a rosy tipsiness. “Dunno,” he murmurs. “Think I like it better than being called your ugly sister, though.”

“Ew.”

You share a loud, unruly laugh with Tom, your voices mixing almost melodically. When you sigh, you lean further against the wall.

“I hate it in there,” you find yourself admitting. “So many people were talking about me behind my back. It’s like they think I can’t tell that they’ve just been discussing me when I walk over and the conversation falls silent.” You slot your fingers together and play around with your thumbs. “Everything is so fake. It’s like a game to them.”

A cool breeze floats down the alley, and you find yourself shivering.

“It is a game,” Tom says slowly, all whilst slipping off his suit jacket. He holds it out to you, raising an eyebrow when you shake your head. “It’s cold, Y/N. I know you’re stubborn, but neither of us wants you to freeze out here.”

The mood between you feels tender, and you let yourself accept his warm jacket. You throw it across your shoulders and feel the warm embrace of his suit, and the husky traces of cologne nestled to the fabric, but Tom’s looking at you with an intense gaze, and the sight of his golden browns draws you back to the scenes from inside the party.

“Saw you chatting with a woman inside,” you say, words a little sharper. “Trying to see how many times you have to try it on before someone bites?”

Tom flinches. The air fills with the sound of him clicking his tongue as he rubs his hands together. “You are so fucking petty, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow, responding to his clipped voice with surprise. “Hit a nerve, have I?”

He groans softly. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I shouldn’t swear at you. You just get under my bloody skin.”

You shrug. “You’ve said worse.”

“So have you.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

Tom’s bearing in on you again, but this time you feel more at ease. The scent of his cologne mixes with the sweet champagne that lays fresh across your palette, and it makes you feel delirious. You can’t stop yourself from reaching up and draping your hands across his shoulders, bringing him nearer.

“You drive me crazy,” Tom admits. His voice is husky, his eyes dark and intense. In the slight breeze, strands of his hair waft across his forehead.

“I can’t stand you,” you return. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his hands dig into your waist. The rough render on the building behind you digs into your back as you loop your arms around Tom’s neck and bring him in closer.

“Neither can I, darling.”

It’s like magnetism - some sort of invisible force pulling you in before you can even fathom it. One moment you’re staring at Tom, scepticism in your eyes and anxiety thick in your chest, the next he’s surged forwards and captured your lips in a messy, sensational kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and your fingers tighten against the short hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back harshly. Your noses bump and your teeth collide as Tom grabs at your sides with fervour, and having him clutching at you is so hot that it takes your breath away. The kiss is messy and hurried, and it seems to melt down all the built-up tension and frustration you’ve been nurturing for years. It makes your head hurt, and all you can focus on is how crazy it is that you are kissing Tom Holland - and, horrifyingly, how much you don’t seem to hate it.

It comes crashing down when there’s a round of flashes, and you hear the telltale sound of paparazzi photographs.

“Shit!” You push Tom away from you immediately, your breath hitching as your head snaps down to the end of the alley. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’ve been spotted by the men with those large, invasive lenses. The flashes continue, and you turn away, your actions almost in slow motion as you feel a wave of nausea travel across your chest.

“Y/N!”

“Tom, Tom!”

“Are you dating?”

“Having a bit of fun tonight, Y/N?”

A chorus of cataclysmic yells come racing down the alley and the howls of the paparazzi mix with the loud sound of camera shutters.

“Fuck.” Tom grabs your arm, and he pulls you away from them, bringing you both back into the party. There’s a tightness in your chest as you gasp for breath, walking in dizzying strides as you card your fingers through your hair anxiously.

“No, no, no,” you mutter to yourself. You can hear the calls of the paparazzi ringing in your ears, and you dig your fingers into your temples for relief as you snap your head to glare at Tom. “Why did you just kiss me? What’s wrong with you?”

Tom looks pale, and his eyes are round with shock, but he still manages to stare at you incredulously. “You kissed me too?”

You bury your head in your hands. “This is it - this is the last straw. They’re going to have a field day with this.” You peek out at Tom through gaps in your fingers, laughing humourlessly. Your chest burns as you take in his disarmed expression and his deep chocolate eyes. “This is the end.”

“It… It was just one kiss.”

You shake your head furiously. “They’ll run with it. They’ll make a spectacle of us.” Your nails dig into the soft palms of your hands. “You are such an asshole.”

Tom’s mouth, a little red and puffy, twists into something of a snarl. “You kissed me! Why is this my fault?”

“It’s always your fault.” You pause and shake your head. You can’t help but fall back on the naive thought that this truly is all Tom’s fault. You’d been fine before him. You’d been looking into the starless sky. You’d been at peace. He’d just had to waltz on out and trick you into his lips. “Well, I hope you enjoy the end of your career.”

He raises a thin eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been associated with me, which is the equivalent of getting a big black line scored right across your name.” You reach up and jerk his jacket from your shoulders, and roughly shove it back into Tom’s hands.

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“Really?” Your gaze hardens. “This is all just a game, Tom, don’t you see? We don’t get to decide who stays on top.” You laugh humourlessly, your tongue tasting sourly of champagne. “We have fucked up.”

Tom sets his jaw. One by one, he stuffs his arms through his suit jacket and tugs it back around his body, sinking into it forcibly. He pulls his glasses from the pocket and places them back on the bridge of his nose, balancing them crookedly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tom remarks, his voice cold and sharp. You briefly wonder if he understands the magnitude of the situation, and as he sweeps away without so much as a kiss on the cheek goodbye, you realise he probably does.

Without yet wholly understanding it, one drunken kiss has sealed your fate. As you stand there, twiddling with your thumbs in the back corner of the Vanity Fair party, your mind races. You know with absolute certainty that things will never be the same again, but not even your wildest dreams could compare to what is about to come.

buckle up bc I’m about to take us on a ride and a half. may as well have ended this with an ellipsis lmao.

↠ next part

any thoughts?! I am actually dying to know what you’re thinking lmao!! my askbox is open :D

taglist can be found in the series masterpost, which is the pinned post at the top of my blog

masterlist linked in my description

#tom holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x y/n #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland series #Tom Holland fic #tfg #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #my writing

1K notes · View notes

lemonpeter · 3 years

Text

My first fill for @peterparkerbingo : Teacher/teacher !

I’ve had a little bit of a writers block, so I’m sorry if this isn’t my best. But I enjoyed writing it and I hope y’all enjoy reading it! 💕 just a bit of spidershield

1.5K words

Warnings: unprofessional behavior between coworkers, fluff, I think that’s it lol

***

Mr. Parker was no stranger to the stares of others. Whether his students, or his coworkers, or even the parents of his students sometimes, he knew that he was watched.

It didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Which was why he agreed to model for Mr. Rogers’ class. And also because he loved being around the other teacher.

The art teacher from across the hall needed a model for his class to do figure drawing. And he’d come to Peter first.

His reasoning was that the teacher had a strong body from dancing for so many years. And that allowed him to stay in positions to be drawn for longer periods of time.

The reasons he didn’t list were that he wanted an excuse to stare at the gorgeous man for a couple hours without seeming weird. But he didn’t need to tell anyone that.

Peter walked into the classroom during his free block, a small smile tugging at his lips when he saw Steve. The other teacher had charcoal smudged on his cheek and forehead and didn’t seem to notice at all. Or maybe he didn’t care.

“Pete! I mean- Mr. Parker.” Steve cleared his throat, grinning a little. “Hey, thank you so much for doing this. You’re the best.”

The younger man waved his hand, laughing. “It’s no big deal, I didn’t have anything going on right now anyways. I’m happy to help.”

Steve nodded. He rubbed at his nose momentarily, effectively smearing another black streak across his face. “Okay, so, the kids will all be here in a couple minutes. You know how most of them wait right up until the bell.” He gave Peter a knowing look. “But you’ll just be right there in the center and I’ll position you once we’re all ready, okay?”

Peter nodded, smile reaching his eyes as he watched Steve. “Sounds perfect. Now, do you want some help cleaning up?”

The art teacher blinked at him, glancing around the room. “I think I’m good, my kids are usually pretty-“

Peter shook his head, brushing his thumb over the charcoal mark on his cheek. “Not the room. Your face. You’ve got a little….” He rubbed at the mark gently until it started coming off.

“Oh! Oh, I’m okay.” Steve’s cheeks colored and he stepped away from Peter’s touch. “Thank you, though. I’m just gonna get more on me, right?” He joked a little. “No point in cleaning yet.”

Peter smiled at him fondly, nodding. “Alright. That makes sense.”

Students began filing in, whispering to those around them as they eyed the other teacher in the room. It wasn’t like it was anything scandalous to walk in on, but everyone loved drama and the chance to start a rumor. It was the most fun part about school. And almost everyone believed that there was something between the two teachers already.

Steve cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention when the final bell rang and the last of his students trickled in. “Alright, I mentioned yesterday that we’d be working on sketching figures today. So Mr. Parker here was kind enough to be our volunteer figure. Isn’t that nice of him?”

A few weak “Thanks, Mr. Parker”s were mumbled, but almost everyone stayed focused on Steve and getting their supplies out of their bags.

“Okay, so-“ Steve made his way to where Peter was standing, mentally figuring out how he wanted him positioned. Then he reached out to move him before pausing. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Peter’s cheeks burned at the words when he heard the giggles from around the room in response, but nodded. “Of course.”

The art teacher’s hands gently guided Peter to where he wanted him, positioning him in a traditional ballet fourth position with one hand in front of him with the other gracefully held above his head. Peter moved his feet into position on his own when he understood.

“Do you think you can hold this position?” Steve asked softly, pulling his hands away to look at the younger man after he was finished.

“Of course.” Peter nodded, not moving at all. He knew that holding his arm up would get tiring eventually, but he didn’t want to ruin the picture. So he stayed as still as possible.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Steve smiled, going to his own seat and looking around at his students. “This is the position you’ll draw him in. You have all of class to complete your picture, it’s due by the bell.”

Everyone quickly got to work, eyes on Peter.

Steve started on his own sketch, an easy smile on his face as he started.

A recreation of Peter began to fill his page. Firm muscle on a slim body, his upper body hidden mostly beneath a loose blue tee. Dainty fingers holding position that lead into strong arms. Thick thighs that Steve wanted to feel wrapped around him that were clear in tight leggings. A soft bulge that the man had to be sure he didn’t pay too much attention to.

His sketch became clearer as time went on, as he was sure to capture every single detail of the man he admired from across the hall.

Just as he finished the gentle smile that curved at Peter’s lips with a stroke of his pencil, the bell broke through his blissful trance.

Steve blinked as he looked up, seeing his students packing up and Peter relaxing from his pose. “Oh, leave your papers at the table by the door. Make sure you signed your name on them,” he called before too many could get out the door.

Peter’s fingers gently massaged at his stiff arm as he relaxed, not noticing the other teacher approaching him again.

“I hope you’re not too sore.” Steve spoke up, his sketch held between his fingers. “I’m sorry if the position I picked was too…demanding. I just figured it would look nice.”

“No, it’s alright,” Peter assured him. “I’m a tough guy, I can take it,” he joked. His eyes landed on the drawing hanging at Steve’s side in his hand and nodded towards it. “I saw you were pretty focused over there. Can I see it?”

The teacher looked at the paper like he’d forgotten it was there and then back at the other man. “Oh- uh, yeah. Sure.” He held the sketch out nervously.

The dance teacher took it with a smile, eyes scanning over the drawing as he took in every detail.

He was quiet for a moment. Two moments. Long enough to make Steve worried that he did something wrong. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not-“

“Shh,” Peter scolded, not looking away from the page in his hand. “You’re ruining the moment.”

Steve shut his mouth again, watching him. Ruining the moment? What was that supposed to mean?

After a few more seconds, Peter finally looked up. “I’m not sure who exactly that is that you drew. He can’t be me,” he said confidently.

“What?” The picture looked exactly like him. Steve may have been a little rusty, but it was definitely Peter.

“Nope, can’t be. Because whoever that is is gorgeous.” The dance teacher grinned at him, the expression a little goofy. “Steve, you’re incredible.”

Steve finally relaxed again, laughing a little. “Oh. Thanks, I don’t know about incredible, but thank you.”

Peter went to hand the paper back, looking up at him when he was stopped. “It’s yours.”

“No, I want you to have it. Please.”

The dancer smiled more, nodding. “Thank you.” Then he paused, going to grab a scrap piece of paper and a pencil.

Steve watched him curiously, chuckling at how he was furiously scribbling on the paper. “Okay?”

“Shh, I’m creating.”

After about a minute of frantic doodling, Peter confidently held up the paper and handed it over.

Steve raised an eyebrow, laughing loudly as he saw the drawing. He just couldn’t help himself. “Why am I a triangle? With just a circle for a head?”

Peter pouted a little before laughing with him. “We can’t all be artists. But that’s not the important part.”

Steve looked lower on the paper, brows furrowing when he saw a number. “I already have your extension. And you’re across the hall. Why would I need-“

“That’s my cell number, Steve.” Peter started to walk to the door. So he wouldn’t be stuck there if he was rejected. “Feel free to call. For anything.”

“Your cell…why?”

Peter sighed, leaning against the doorway. “I want you to call me, Stevie. Clear enough for you?” He bit the inside of his cheek before blurting out his comment. “Maybe you could do some more figure drawing of me. Just not as professional.”

He rushed to leave after what he said, face flushed in embarrassment. What the hell was that?

Steve watched him go, eyes squinted as students for his next class filed in. “Not as professional…what does- oh my god, does that mean naked?”

His classroom fell completely silent and he wished that he could take his words back. He’d forgotten that they could hear every word.

One brave soul decided to speak up after the silence continued. “I say go for it.”

#spidershield #my writing #peter parker #steve rogers #steve x peter #steve rogers x peter parker #dance teacher!Peter #art teacher!steve #peterparkerbingo2021 #if there are any insane obvious editing mistakes let me know #other than that just ignore them lol I’m tired and am proud for even getting this much written

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palms-upturned · 3 years

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Tell us about the rgu flower language stuff!! If u have the time

OH BOY DO I!!! THANK YOU ANON I WOULD LOVE TO ;_;

well there’s a whole lot of wonderful stuff in the show but i guess a great place to start would be the duelist colors!!

green roses don’t occur naturally (not the kind of roses you would picture, anyway) so they don’t have a strong association in floriography or hanakotoba as far as i know, but green is certainly a fitting color for saionji lol, mr green with envy…

miki’s blue rose doesn’t occur naturally either, but it’s taken on some pretty strong symbolic connotations due to attempts to breed them!! blue roses stand for love at first sight sometimes, but more importantly they stand for unattainable things, like the standards that miki holds women like anthy and (especially) kozue to. and interestingly, kozue’s hair is a much more purple shade than miki’s bright blue, and i think that’s because attempts to breed blue roses resulted often in new shades of purple. so kozue is the failed attempt to raise a prodigy and miki is the success 😔

juri’s orange rose represents an ambiguous love somewhere between a red rose (romance/passion) and a yellow rose (friendship). pretty self explanatory when it comes to this lesbian icon and what happened between her and shiori 😔 also makes it pretty hilarious that anthy keeps trying to offer juri an orange rose in episode seven sjsgsjdhdh [anthy voice] I know your gay

nanami’s yellow rose can represent friendship as mentioned, but also jealousy 😔 another one that’s pretty self explanatory, nanami is a very jealous person when it comes to touga and what he represents to her, without touga she’s “just another fly in the swarm,” so she challenges any threat that would make her question her place in the world with a yellow rose 😔😔😔

and then there’s touga and his red rose, which ofc stands for passion and romantic love. another one that’s pretty self explanatory for mr playboy, but becomes a bit sad and ironic by the end of the show when he starts to realize that the way he lives his life fucking sucks lol and that akio intentionally groomed him into such a pos that when he started to realize that he was actually being victimized, he had already burned all of his bridges and had no one else to turn to (except saionji, which is pretty dire 💀). in saionji’s words, mr red rose has never actually loved anyone and doesn’t realize it until he’s most in need of someone to love him enough in spite of everything to help him escape akio and this hell school

anthy and akio both have purple hair, and purple roses are associated w royalty, mystery, and magic, v fitting for them both. akio also duels with a purple rose in episode 38 iirc

utena duels with a white rose because white roses stand for ideals and devotion! and the ideal that she’s so devoted to is dios as her image of a prince. it’s really dios’s duel color and not hers, because…

in episode 12, when dueling touga to reclaim herself, utena wears a rose of her true color: pink! pink roses stand for trust… happiness… gratitude… you see pink roses often throughout the show, one of my fav examples being that anthy is framed by pink roses the first time utena sees her in episode one 🥺 and in episode two, there’s a vase of them in their shared room!! and ofc, in the finale, the door to eternity is overgrown with pink roses… and when anthy leaves in the final scene of the show, she’s wearing a pink outfit 🥺🥺🥺

anyway this all makes it p fun to rewatch the show and take note of what color the spinning rose frames are during certain scenes and what they’re telegraphing! the red rose during the cantarella scene when utena says “what a coincidence, i poisoned your tea” makes me lose my mind. she really said “oh yeah well im in love with you so there.”

also… this isn’t related to roses but an additional little flower language rant. but the fact that the series never uses forget me nots makes me lose it. they get their name from a german folk tale about a couple walking beside a river when the woman sees some pretty blue flowers on the bank and asks her lover to fetch them for her, but he ends up falling into the river and gets swept away, but tosses the flowers back to his lover and cries, “forget me not!” and with all the different iterations of the tale of the drowning boy in the river and the idea of memories/truths being warped by the narratives that society tells us, i CANNOT BELIEVE that the movie especially never used forget me nots 😭😭😭 it seriously makes me more frustrated than it should LMAO i gotta draw lots and lots of art of rgu characters with forget me nots just to make myself less mad

ANYWAY THANK YOU ANON FOR ENGAGING IN MY SPECIAL INTERESTS W ME IT HELPED ME PASS THE TIME WHILE WAITING FOR A RIDE HOME AND ALSO MADE ME HAPPY :] if you ever have questions abt flowers or other imagery in an utena scene… i got u

#rgu #asks #anon #THANK YOU FOR MY LIFE

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itsmeevie01 · 4 years

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Bio!Dad Bruce Day 14-Gala (Part 1)

ummm hi? i just wanted to give yall a huge heads up that this IS part one of two, and part two will be added when i have time to go back and finish. both my computer and my phone are acting up, and my tablet has a faulty keyboard. that said, im going to work to get things back on track.

Two days after Christmas, the manor was buzzing with activity. The Kents had arrived the day before, and now everyone was prepping for the annual Winter Gala. Marinette was standing in her room, hands on her hips, glaring at her father as he tried to convince her that no, Marinette, the gala is not that big of a deal. down the hall, Tim and Damien helped Alfred sort through the myriad of suits and other formal wear that the siblings would be wearing the next night. Jason had left on ‘business’, while Dick was watching over the people brought into finish decorating for the occasion. Once the boys’ clothing had been sorted, Alfred moved on to check on Cass who had been studiously avoiding all activity related to the Gala.

In the Crewe Group Chat

Kim: Mari, when do you get back in town??

Chlo: M, there’s damage control to do, do you want me to wait for you?

Max: Marinette, you may want to check your Instagram. I know that you avoid social media in Gotham but…

Chlo: MARINETTE CHENG-WAYNE

Chlo: Pick up your phone

Chlo: MARI

Alix: Chloe, chill.

Alix: there’s only so much we can do if she’s busy today.

Kim: we need to take care of this somehow though.

Alix: do we have ANY OTHER WAY to contact m?

Adrien: why do I feel like I’m missing something very important?

Max: have you checked the news lately?

Adrien: I only really check AkumaWatch, why?

Max: check international news

Adrien: is… is this what I think it is? (Attached is a screenshot of international gossip. At the top of the page is a picture of two teens in hoodies moving away from an airport. They are dragging suitcases and have their heads down to avoid attention. The boy’s hood is thrown back, and his well-known blue eyes are glaring at the photographer. Above it is the title has Timothy Drake-Wayne finally found love? The second screenshot is from farther down the article where there is a picture of Cassandra Cain-Wayne, Damien Wayne and Marinette hurrying along a sidewalk completely bundled up. The caption reads could this be Tim Drake-Wayne’s mystery girl? Who is she?)

Chlo: YES

Chlo: and its gala day so she’s going to be busy af anyways.

Adrien: What do you mean its Gala day? There’s only one Gala today?

Chlo: Duh. Mari is going.

Chlo: Keep up, Adrikins.

Alix: oh god

Alix: does anyone know how her dress turned out? She had been freaking out about it last I heard, and we all know how much M puts by first impressions.

Adrien: Ok, I’m still really confused? There’s only one Gala today? The Wayne Winter Charity Gala, which is really exclusive and a huge to-do? What Gala is Marinette going to???

Nino: dude

Nino: please

Nino: don’t be oblivious.

Mari: what did I miss?

Chlo: DID YOU SEE THE NEWS?????

Mari: um…yes? Jason has been having a ball with all the press. Why?

Chlo: I thought you were trying to be low key?

Mari: tonight

Chlo: IM SORRY??? WHY AM I ONLY HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW????

Alix: well, it’s a good thing you have so many influential friends who keep ending up at the same Galas as you, Mari

Adrien: ok, I’m still confused

Chlo: your going to the Winter Gala, right?

Adrien: yeah? We go every year. The only entertaining part is the fact that the Wayne kids always fight. Otherwise it’s all snobby rich people.

Chlo: I’m taking offence to that, since Alix and I have also been going for years.

Alix: seconded

Mari: to be fair, you both tend to hide away and prank people

Adrien: wait. That was you two?

Adrien: And Marinette, how do you know that?

Mari: omg

Mari: I give up sdjkgb

Class Group Chat

Lila: guys! My friend reached out to me…

Alya: wait! Which friend? Is it…?

Lila: yes! Its Maralynn! She’s sooooo excited about her family Gala tonight!

Alix: Maralynn?

Lila: ok, you didn’t hear it from me, but that mystery girl? Seen at the airport with THE Tim Wayne? That’s her! They’re actually twins!

Chloe: oh! That means that Alix, Adrien and I will see her tonight! Its so cool that she trusts you not to reveal who she is…. (:

Marinette: lol isn’t Twitter convinced that she’s dating Tim? AWKWARD

Lila: Maralynn told me that it wasn’t worth it to go after the rumors. I’m trying to respect her decision.

Rose: that’s so sweet, Lila! I didn’t know that you knew the Waynes!

Lila: I don’t know ALL of them, just Maralynn! We were at boarding school together in Italy for a few years.

Marinette: OH WOW

Nino: Chloe, Alix, your going to have to tell us what you think of her?

Lila: oh yes! And if you see my boyfriend, send my love!

Chloe:…BOYFRIEND???

Lila: oh? You didn’t know? Tim and I have had a thing for a while

Marinette: oh really? Chloe, you’ll have to pass on that she’s thinking of him tonight!

Lila: I mean… not if you don’t want to! I wouldn’t want to be a bother on GALA night!

Chloe: if I see him, it won’t be a bother at all Lila!

Marinette shook her head and set her phone down as the class chat continued to blow up. As much as she loved Chloe, she knew that the girl was instigating Lila for fun. When everything blew up, Marinette wanted to be able to stand back and watch the fire burn, but not be close enough to get burned. When she turned in her room, the garment bag in the corner caught her eye. Inside, Marinette knew, was a long black dress. When she had run the design past Alfred, the English man had given her an approving nod. Later, she had heard him mentioning to her father that at least one of his myriad of children would be able to dress themselves. The comment had made the teen giggle and she had made sure to put every effort she could into the gown. More than anything, she wanted to make her family proud. A knock on the door drew her attention and she turned to find Cass standing there, her own gown held in its own garment bag.

“get ready? Together?” the noirette lit up at her older sister’s suggestion and she nodded excitedly. The other girl moved into the room and hung the bag in her arms over the wardrobe next to Marinette’s. after she had deposited her shoes, the older teen turned to her sister and smiled.

By the time that Tim came to check on them, both girls had finished their Makeup and were working on hair. The makeup artist that Bruce had hired was packing up her stuff and the hair stylist was partway through Cass’s hair. Marinette turned towards her brother with a smile from where she was standing in front of the hidden dresses. “lend me a hand?” He smirked at the frustration on her face.

“Gladly, Little Bit. Which one is yours?” when the girl nodded to the larger of the two bags, Tim frowned. “how big exactly is your dress?”

“Big enough for me to need help getting it on. Its not that it’s exactly heavy either! Its just…poofy?” he laughed at Marinette’s rush to explain and helped her pull the bag off of the dress. When the dress was no longer hidden, his breath caught. The black dress was stunning. He could see where it moved from black to grey to blue at the bottom, and the long full sleeves followed the same style. Hanging on the hanger behind the dress was a black hoop, and a pair of low heels (as tall as Bruce would allow, actually. He had to remind her ten times that although this was a high society event, she was still 14, and didn’t need to be dressing like she was 20.) sat under the layers of the dress. Where he had been expecting glitter and sparkles, Tim was surprised to find that the satin was free of almost anything that glittered.

“wow” Marinette laughed at his reaction and reached for the hoop.

“I know, right? It took forever, but its totally worth it! And, it’s the designers first attempt at this kind of formal. I think she did a great job.” Tim paused at that.

“LB, hey,” his sister tensed at the abbreviation for her nickname before she turned to him. “who exactly designed your dress?”

“Oh, just a small up and coming designer. You wouldn’t have heard of her.” Cass sniggered from her spot by the vanity and Marinette shot their sister a smile. “ok! Let me get the slip on, and then after the hoop is on top, ill need your help with making sure the skirt fits right.”

Marinette would not be over exaggerating if she said that the red carpet was incredibly chaotic. The only thing she could think of that was more chaotic was perhaps the last time Jagged had held a concert in Paris. After she had made it through the gaggle of reporters and the public (was that Mr. Kent, SUPERMAN, she saw standing in the crowd calling out questions? Dam that man was everywhere.) the teen dropped her purse, that held an extra set of shoes, in her seat. The rest of the family wouldn’t be in for a bit. Her father, Dick, and Damien would all be in the receiving line Alfred would be behind the scenes all night, and Tim was already striking up discussions with business partners. Cass was on the other side of the room, looking stunning in her deep blue dress. When her sister had approached her, through her website, about the dress the teen had squealed at the idea of designing the close-fitting dress for her only sister. A Blonde caught her eye and pulled the noirette out of her thoughts. The familiar girl who was making her way over had abandoned her trademarked blues and yellows in favor of a deep red that matched the garnets littering her jewelry. A few steps behind her was another teen close to Marinette’s age with a pink pixie cut slicked down. The other teen was wearing a suit that had perfect tailoring…actually, that was Marinette’s suit. The girl laughed as Chloe and Alix joined her, the shortest of the three standing in the middle to draw attention to her suit.

As the girls caught up, they scanned the ballroom. On the other side, Tim was starting to look frazzled, while Marinette thought she saw Jason slip in past one of the servers. opposite them, Damien and Dick were starting to mingle while Bruce moved to greet the Kents. As she swept her gaze over the room, Marinette blinked. There, looking straight at her was-

“oh no, its Adrien. Chloe I love you and all, but if that boy causes a scene tonight…” Chloe waved away Alix’s worries.

“I already told him to be on his best behavior. I am personally more interested in when Felix will get here. For all his big talk about transferring to a private school in Paris, I won’t believe it until the brat comes to see me.” The group stifled their laughter at Chloe’s put out response.

“as long as he doesn’t come over asking about everything going on, we should be good.” Marinette nodded at Alix’s statement on Adrien.

Look for Part 2 soon! if yall have any thoughts, i’d LOVE to hear them, since i have the basic plot down and im fleshing it out now...

#b!dbwm2020 #ml x dc #maribat #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #marinette dupen chang #My writing #oops it hapened again

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doitwritenow · 4 years

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IronStrange Starter Kit - Master Fic Rec List for all Y’all Because You’ve been Asking and I’ve been Avoiding

Hi! All you anons and askers, I made a list!!! Hopefully some of these are what you’ve been after. :D

(Please reblog this, lol, I spent too much time on it...)

General rules: These are complete unless indicated otherwise, and end happily unless indicated otherwise. There’s a variety of ratings, as I have no qualms against smut, but I don’t usually read it outside of a larger plot. So I don’t think there’ll be many explicit stories on here. Word counts vary; I indicate general length but don’t go into specifics. What else, uh... Bold stuff is the headers and general subjects. I link the titles. Block quotes are author summaries. Enjoy!!

Okay so first off, there are a couple of Fandom Staples who just have leagues worth of good short stories, and if you haven’t read them, then definitely treat yourself to the array:

A Thousand Futures of Me and You - VisionaryGalaxy (Vishanti, what a legend, ily so much). This is a series of unconnected one-shots, each their own and covering a variety of tropes and moments and themes and AUs. They’re so fun (and/or painful and/or thought-provoking and/or tense and/or sexy)! In-character and amazing, consistantly.

Prompt Collection - amethyst-noir (Arbonne). (Also a legendary human). This is exactly what it sounds like: a series of prompt fills in all sorts of tones. You’ll almost certainly find something here that feels like it was just made for you!

Alright, onto the individual stories and series!

Long fics/series:

The of overqualified hands and pi figures series - lantia4ever. (This was my first Ironstrange story, and it is no less magical now.)

A series of one-shots, all set in the same alternate verse in which Tony and Stephen first meet following the events of the first Avengers and then continue to meet after that throughout the canon up until Infinity War and eventually beyond it. Becoming friends - and more along the way.

Time After Time - fancylances. (I love love LOVE this one. Highly recommended.)

Tony Stark is unstuck in time. Stephen Strange might just be the only person in the universe qualified enough to help.

Citizen Erased - Imagined. (This author. Just... such a wonderful, talented, stunning person who makes wonderful, talented, stunning works. This story is masterful.)

What do you do when no one in the world ever manages to remember you?

Anyone who sees Tony Stark promptly forgets he ever existed after mere seconds. When everyone he has ever cared about has lost their memories of him, he goes to Stephen Strange, possibly the only one who can help him lift the curse. But a terrifying danger is coming, and saving the world isn’t an easy job to do when no one can remember who you are.

if only the gods had mercy on us and it’s sequel a soul too deep - orphan_account. (Vishanti, this series... It’s so beautiful and emotional and heart-breaking and heart-warming. And it has so few views for so many words! One of my absolute favorites, VERY highly recommended.)

Tony Stark loved Stephen Strange. He loved him more than anyone could ever imagine. But then a terrorist group attacked the convoy. Then there was a car accident. In the middle of it all, there is tired, battered love. (And, maybe, a little bit of genius)

From the Top - lucifersfavoritechild. (Everyone reads this fic. Written by the blogger Monarch Of The Ironstrange Ship, it’s an MCU rewrite around the relationship. Very fun.)

“Stephen, if you’re . . . there somewhere . . . when I drift off, I’ll be with you again. I can’t wait.”

|| Personally, I think the MCU would be much better as a love story between Stephen Strange and Tony Stark. Don't you?

Starting from Iron Man, and going all the way to Endgame, with all the appropriate stops in between. Let's take it from the top.

UNFINISHED: Skin Deep - Mystical_Magician. (Super cool premise, and super interesting to read! The dynamic here is very fun.)

A battle that should have finally killed Stephen instead launches him into a parallel universe. Exhausted from centuries as Sorcerer Supreme, he chooses instead to explore this new world in any animal form except human. Having hoped for peace at last, he can't stand to be looked up to, to be responsible for others, to have the world on his shoulders.

If he'd hoped to avoid excitement, however, he really should have stayed away when he noticed an enormous explosion and a falling metal suit of armor as he passed through Afghanistan.

UNFINISHED: The End of Infinity - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec. Very long, very slow-burn. Canon-compliant Endgame fix-it. I’m trying so hard, lol.)

In 2023, the battle for the universe has been won. At a cost no one can forget, the fight is over—for all but one. Stephen Strange has an idea. An impossible idea spanning dimensions and timelines, life and death, and the lines of good and evil. But he's played impossible odds before—perhaps he never stopped.

All that Loki wanted was to fight, one last time, for the fate of his universe. So when he finds himself fighting for another, crashing into the past, he has a few intended words for the wizard that forced him there. But not before he finds a boy. Or, more accurately, before the boy finds him.

Peter Parker had been waiting for the next mission. He just doesn't expect it to come from the future, armed with a ridiculous story demanding a ridiculous quest. And he doesn't expect not to be able to tell Mr. Stark.

Tony Stark is trying to rebuild from the Civil War, knowing that someday, something will come that he needs to be ready for. And he doesn't know it yet, but two universes are trying to rebuild around him, and that something is already here.

Seven Stones. Five dead. Two universes. And one impossible quest to tie it all back together.

UNFINISHED: Sunrise in Exile - Ragdoll (Keshka). (Another fandom favorite! And for good reason. This is really really good!)

Tony does the math and realizes their best chance to save the universe is by... not confronting Thanos on his own turf.

So he steals a wizard and a spider and a space ship. And he runs.

(Three humans and an A.I in space, the alien friendships they make along the way, and discovering how science and magic might coexist in a universe where they can be one and the same.)

Shorter plotty ones:

Out of Suffering - Mystical_Magician. (So this author??? THIS AUTHOR??? Very very good, much yes, very good.)

Stephen Strange does not like people, but 14,000,605 lifetimes of fighting and dying alongside this small group have worn down his walls. He likes them, gods help him. He might even consider them friends. It’s really for the best that they all go their separate ways once Thanos has been defeated. In their eyes, he’s barely even an acquaintance.

Now if only Tony and Peter would stop surprising him.

moros - spookykingdomstarlight. (Almost got a spot in the angst section. Very good).

There were fourteen million universes Stephen had birthed into existence and let die and, in far more than he cared to count, the visitor standing before him had become something… dear.

Shaking is Caring - mariadperiad20. (This is just STUNNING. Highly loved.)

5 times Stephen's hands would shake, +1 time they didn't.

It's Kinda Chalky - DestielsDestiny. (This one’s pretty short, but definitely worth it.)

You can live an entire lifetime by looking into someone’s eyes. His sister used to say that all the time. Stephen never gave it much thought back then. These days, he can think of little else.

Something Magic - Imagined. (Beautiful!)

There is only ever one rule that matters:

do not fall in love with the enemy.

An Idiotic Theory - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec! I tried to be funny.)

His wizard has been cursed, again, and Tony's already used up his luck for the day.

(Stephen says it's not a curse. He says Tony's whole daily-allotted karma-based luck theory has minimal merit, citing the fact that Tony had come up with it while he was drunk.)

Tony really should have saved his miracle.

Love Through Time - babywarg (morphaileffect). (I love this one. It sticks with you.)

Tony discovers an old drawing of, and finally remembers, his invisible friend Stephen from when he was a child.

Alternates - doobler. (Super cool!)

After being punked by a lowbrow magician, Stephen finds himself falling through doors to otherwordly dimensions. How will he ever get home?

132 - 28ghosts. (Soulmate AU! Very fun, incorporates Stephen’s time-loop with Dormammu.)

Ninety-nine point eight percent of humans have a soulmate mark that tells them the age their soulmate will be when they meet them. Tony Stark has a mark. It's just that his is...different than most people's.

(Or: six people who aren't Tony Stark's soulmate, and one who is.)

and when the world falls (I will fall with it) - HeavenChild. (Another multichap soulmate AU. Absolutely lovely.)

Tony will give anything to those he loves.

People will take everything he gives before leaving him in shambles.

Rhodhey, Pepper and Vision have had enough.

Or the five times Tony had his heart broken and the one time he didn't.

i saw the end of the world - JumpToConclusions. (Why has no one read this fic??? It’s so good!!! Stephen knows the future since he saw it on Titan, and things grow more complex from there.)

Tony and Strange are trying to make this work, this being remaking The Avengers. ...And maybe they'll stumble into something else along the way.

Tiresome heart, forever living and dying - Mystical_Magician. (R e a d t h i s p l e a s e. The mythology is so cool and the symbolism is so beautiful and the prose is so satisfying. One of my absolute faves.)

As a fledgling crane, Stephen was too curious for his own good, and it was this curiosity that led to Eugene Strange finding and stealing away his feather robe. Trapped in human form, cruelly forged into the perfect son, not even his father's death freed him when his robe was so well hidden. He only managed to break his father's mold after breaking completely in the aftermath of his accident, and slowly gluing those broken pieces back together at Kamar-Taj, but not even magic could find what had been hidden. Enter Tony, after the defeat of Thanos.

Fluffy ones:

From The Outside - Live. (Hilarious.)

Being a sentient life-form surrounded by humanity can be hard. Especially when said humans just can't admit their feelings for each other.

Sleeping Iron Man - Golden_Asp. (Another fun one. Perfect balance of ridiculousness with a touch of angst to make it interesting.)

Stephen Strange stared at the Avengers on his doorstep, Tony Stark flung over Steve Rogers' shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "He touched something, didn't he?" "Yuup." or The one where Tony touches Sleeping Beauty's spindle, is put into an enchanted sleep, and everyone, even Rocket Raccoon, take their turn kissing him. But Tony only has one prince charming.

Doctor Ob(li)vious - lantia4ever. (One of my very favorites. So cute.)

Stephen starts getting some weird looks from the Avengers, spanning across disturbed, confused and even scared all the way to curious. He dismisses it at first until weird turns into knowing.

And knowing turns into realizing...even if the scheming teenagers had to all but paint it on the walls for him to do so. Oh wait...

Applied Combinatorics in Two-Player Games - 28ghosts. (Short and fun and full of snark.)

After a battle, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange argue about games.

“Chess is not a solved problem.”

“Has been since ‘97, Kasparov versus Deep Blue. Kasparov, 1; Deep Blue, 2; three draws.”

“Chess is a game, not a problem.”

The Courtship of Peter Parker's Father (Figures) - flyingonfeatherlesswings. (Peter plays matchmaker! Adorable.)

Peter couldn't stand to sit by while Tony and Stephen danced around each other any longer. Something had to be done.

Speaking Eyes - Vrishchika. (Not Steve Friendly. Tony is amazing in this. And Stephen is so fantastically dramatic.)

Tony has always had expressive eyes.

The Signs of Sleep Deprivation - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Another self-rec. <3)

"Tony said to put the potato in the dishwasher, so that's what I did."

Sometimes, Avengers just show up to say hi. Sometimes, they all show up at once, and Tony makes an party out of it. Sometimes, he invites the snarky, oblivious, somewhat insecure wizard because, and Peter quotes: "everyone else is coming".

Sometimes, something needs to be done.

Show Me Your Scars (And I'll Show You Mine) - Imagined. (Adorable. Lovely. Imagined does it again.)

The worst part is that Stephen keeps tucking his hands away, just as Tony wants to hold them. He keeps hiding them, surreptitiously, no matter what they’re doing. It’s only when Tony kisses Stephen, or hugs him, that he feels the hands settle on his back, uncertain, ready to pull back within seconds.

It only makes him want to cuddle up to Stephen even more, but he backs away, not sure if it’d be welcome.

Promise? Promise. - sharonscarters. (AU, kidfic, absolutely adorable.)

A four year old Tony Stark runs away from home and finds his Guardian Angel.

What The Doctor Ordered - wakandan_wardog. (Post CW. Kind of not Rogues friendly? So fun, makes me smile. I re-read this one a lot.)

The Rogue Avengers are called back to New York because the heavy hitters are going to be needed against Thanos. Of course, there are some truths that Steve Rogers will need to accept sooner rather than later. Tony Stark has moved on and Stephen Strange will not suffer fools lightly.

Hurt/Comforty ones:

Among The Chaos of The Stars (You're My Safe Harbour) - ShootMeDead. (Oh my vishanti. OH MY VISHANTI. So so so so SO good.)

Stephen has always been able to hear the stars. Tony is the only one who can silence them.

each night like a white noise frequency - Phierie. (I ADORE THIS FIC. OKAY. I LOVE IT. READ IT.)

Stephen is no stranger to making hard choices. He doesn’t regret his actions on Titan, but months later they weigh on his mind heavier than ever; the cracks begin to show.

Just An Accident - CucumbersInGold. (I really like fics with Stephen’s hands and the difficulties thereabout. Idk, just one of my favorite things. This is beautiful).

Stephen's hands act up.

Learning, Unlearning - Caaaaaaas. (More character study than anything else. Really good.)

Whatever Stephen wanted with life, life just didn’t seem to know what to do with him.

In which Stephen learns and unlearns some very important lessons.

your eyes have their silence - doctortwelfth. (Oh look it’s another scars fic. I told you I liked them.)

Tony is gentle with Stephen’s hands even when Stephen forgets to be.

Burning Lines Into The Snow - petroltogo. (Not very Steve friendly. Short and sweet.)

Post CW: It's not just the team that's so broken they are barely able to comprehend how many parts they're missing now, how many have been ripped and twisted and torn. It's Tony as well, right down to the core, the damage so far-reaching even he doesn't know how to fix it.

And then there's Strange, who has his own way of covering the cracks.

Old Bones - CJtheWeeb. (Owch. Dumb geniuses trying to be invulnerable.)

Sometimes Stephen Strange has great days, where he was nearly pain free and his hands still enough to where he could pick up a cup of water and barely spill a drop.

Today was not one of those days.

something taken, something new - meowrails. (So in-character. The premise was a little off to me, but I’m so glad I decided to read this one. I really really like this fic.)

The ChronicConnection implement and app allows a person that lives with chronic or illness-induced pain to transfer their burden temporarily to a willing loved one.

Tony and Stephen sign up as beta testers.

Angsty ones (happy ending unless otherwise mentioned):

day one - days4daisy. (THIS IS SO GOOD OKAY IF YOU READ NOTHING ELSE ON THIS LIST READ THIS).

Three days in Stark Tower. Stephen must be in bad shape if he just agreed to this.

His Merlin - babywarg (morphaileffect). (This author keeps showing up on this list because they are A LEGEND. A LEGEND I TELL YOU.)

As a child, Tony imagined himself a Knight of the Round Table. Little did he know he would grow up to be a king. And that he would have a wizard by his side to lead him to either glory or destruction.

there is no heart for me like yours - turtle_abyss. (Soulmate AU! Wonderful. <3)

Being able to feel your soulmate - a phantom touch, a bone-deep awareness - is a divine torture. To know, but not see. To seek, but not find. To feel someone holding your hand and not be able to hold theirs.

Grace - StrangeMischief. (*cries in beautiful fic* Happy ending!)

“Pain’s an old friend.”

Us...Me - StrangeMischief. (This will hurt you. So melancholy. Pepper and Tony live their life, and Tony remembers. Not a happy ending.)

“I don’t believe in happily ever after.”

One-Thousand Cranes - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec, sorry. Hopeful ending.)

After it all, a man with shaking hands makes a wish.

courtesy - deathofglitter. (Dealing with the fourteen-million futures. So good.)

Stark looked at him like he looked at the amulet that rested on his chest like a steady promise - dutiful, a bit burdened, and trying to hold a profound lack of personal emotion whatsoever, still personal enough to protect as anyone would a precious object.

La Douleur Exquise - BananasofThorns, StrangeMischief. (More pain. Pepper and Tony, and Stephen watching and trying not to wish. Very good, no happy ending.)

The before was easy. There were fewer boxes in their minds and no chains around their hearts. There was no hurt. No tears. No dreams.

But those days were long gone.

Stigmata - babywarg (morphaileffect). (AU! Soulmates again. Very interesting, beautifully done.)

Since Stephen was little, mysterious wounds have appeared and disappeared on his body, leaving mysterious scars. His mother says it's because he's one of a Pair, and he's absorbing pain meant for someone else.

*wipes brow* PHEW! That gotta a little more in-depth than I first intended... Have fun, my MysticIron friends. Happy quarantine.

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