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fckinwild-kiwi · 1 year ago

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Dec. 1st: Introducing Christmas Traditions

Hello, my beautiful friends! It's been a while since I've posted and to help combat some of my writer's block...I am going to *try* and participate in @comp-lady's December Writing Challenge!

Day #1: Blanket Fort/Cooking Together

Warnings: Swearing (I think that is it, if there's something else, please let me know and I'll change it!) Word Count: 1.8k+ Words Pairing: Eddie x AFAB!Reader

"Do we really need to buy all of these random snacks for our movie night?" Eddie asked as he looked at the cart filling up before his eyes.

"Yes, I promise you these snacks are vital to the night going well."

"Princess," Eddie mumbled, looking at the girl whom he has been pining after for the last three years. "We don't need to spend all of this money to have a good time. We could order a pizza and split a six-pack like we normally do and I'd still have the best night of my life."

"You don't understand," Y/n said, finally meeting Eddie's eyes. "This is essential. Please just let me do this."

"Okay," Eddie reluctantly agreed. He could see her eyes pleading for him to just let it go. For the next half hour, Y/n and Eddie walked around the store filling the cart before hitting the checkout.

Once Y/n and Eddie made it back to the trailer, Y/n got to work unloading the groceries. "Eddie," She yelled from the kitchen.

"What is it, sweets?"

"I need to ask one more favor from you," Y/n mumbled, looking up at Eddie with what she hoped were puppy-dog eyes.

"Oh no," Eddie joked before looking at Y/n.

"It's nothing crazy, Eds! I just need you to run to Family Video, I forgot to grab the movie but it's already put on hold under my name. Steve or Robin can grab it for you, I'm pretty sure I paid for it too!"

"Why are we not just watching what we already have here?"

"We are not going to sit around and watch those slasher films for the 100th time. This is important, please?"

"Okay," Eddie sighed, before stepping forward to wrap his arms around her and mumbling into her hair. "Yeah, I'll go to Family Video, are you coming with me?"

"No, I have to do a few more things around here to get ready," She responded ominously before pushing Eddie out the door, his shoes in his hands.

As soon as Eddie was out of the trailer, Y/n got to work pre-heating the oven and opening the premade cookie dough to place on a cookie sheet. If there was one thing she noticed after being friends with Eddie for the last three years and longing for more than friendship for the last two, Eddie deserved to be showered with love. He deserved to be showered with love and kindness, especially during the coming holidays, in a way that Wayne could not provide him with. Y/n loved Wayne. He was always so kind and welcoming to her every time she was over but there was no denying that he could not give Eddie everything (even though he tried). Y/n wanted to help change that.

The week before, Y/n had hidden some Christmas lights and three Christmas mugs (that she was going to gift to her favorite Munson men) in a box behind the trailer. As soon as the cookies went into the oven, Y/n grabbed the lights and got to work. The worn couch that Wayne often slept on became the inspiration behind Y/n's plan. She grabbed the kitchen chairs, bringing them into the living room, and then grabbed two king-sized blankets from the linen closet in the hallway. After draping the blankets across the chairs and up to the couch while sitting on the floor. The lights illuminated the blanket shelter but opened up at the front so they could see they would be able to see the TV. It was a perfect oasis. Once Y/n was content with the fort, she moved on to the last part of her plan. Hot Cocoa. Once the pot was placed on the stovetop, Y/n grabbed the heavy cream and chocolate bar and started to slowly melt the two together. As the cocoa started to come to a boil, she heard the undeniable sound of Eddie’s van pulling up into the drive.

“Babe, why did you reserve Miracle on 34th Street it’s barely even the Christmas--“

“Surprise,” Y/n whispered as she watched Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise.

"What is all of this?"

“It most definitely is the Christmas season and I wanted to start the festivities with you,” Y/n said before smiling. “Wait, there’s one more thing!”

She rushed into the kitchen, taking the cookies out of the oven and grabbing the mugs for cocoa. “If I’m overstepping, please let me know,” She whispered, unsure of what to do with Eddie’s silence.

“What? No, Y/n. What? This is incredible. You made hot cocoa too? Cookies!?” He could not believe it.

“I figured since it’s December 1st, there is no better time to introduce you to my favorite holiday tradition than now. We skipped most of our movie nights last December and I respected that but I don’t want to do that again this year. If you and Wayne will have me, I want to make this your most Christmassy Christmas yet!”

“I would love that,” Eddie said as he smiled at the girl across the room from him. “Can I try some of that cocoa with those cookies now?”

"Of course you can!"

After settling in with a few cookies and their mugs of cocoa, Y/n led Eddie into the living room to show him the fort. “Get settled in there and I’ll put the movie in,” She said, smiling up at the curly-headed boy. Her excitement coming off in waves.

As they settled under the fort and opening credits began to play, Eddie pulled Y/n into his arms. “Thank you for this,” He mumbled into her hair.

“Of course Eddie,” Y/n responded, squeezing him tight. “You deserve all the good things.” “No, Y/n. I mean it. Thank you,” He said as he pulled away to look at her. “No one has ever cared about me this much or done anything this thoughtful for me. You’re my favorite person in the world.” “Eds, I mean it. You deserve all the great things this world has to offer. I’m sorry you’ve been dealt such a shitty hand but this,” She said, releasing her hands from around his waist to gesture to the twinkly lights surrounding them. “Is small in comparison to what you deserve.”

Eddie looked around, his eyes becoming watery at the gesture. “You’d do almost anything for the people you love, huh?” “No, but I would do almost anything for you.” “Baby,” Eddie whispered, turning to look at the girl beside him. He could not believe what he was hearing. “Are you saying-“ “I love--“ “No, you don’t get to say it to me first,” Eddie said, putting his finger to her lips. “I’ve loved you since your first day at school. I was willing to accept whatever you wanted to give me because our friendship is the most important thing to me. But I can’t settle for just friends anymore. Not when you make it so easy to love you with your giant ass heart and your life-changing hot cocoa.”

Y/n giggled, tears forming in her eyes. “Eddie, I’ve loved you forever too. God, knows I have. I’m pretty sure Wayne and Nancy have a bet going over which one of us was going to cave first.” “I hope it was Wayne,” Eddie mumbled. “It was definitely Nancy, Wayne thought you’d chicken out,” Y/n laughed as she hugged Eddie again. “Look at me, pretty girl,” Eddie whispered, releasing his hold on her. “What?” Y/n questioned as she looked at the brown-eyed boy before her. “I need to kiss you, okay?” Eddie said, his hands coming up to hold her cheeks. “I think I need to kiss you more than I need to breathe.”

“Well I’d hate to see you go,” Y/n giggled, her hands wrapping around his wrists. “Kiss me then, Munson.” Eddie wasted no time in bringing his mouth to hers. Y/n could sense the urgency in the kiss, it felt as though every wasted moment up until this point, was trying to erupt between the pair. Y/n groaned as Eddie’s tongue swiped across her bottom lip, asking for access. Y/n reached up, grabbing Eddie’s curls to tug him closer to her as their tongues began to explore each other. Too engrossed in learning each other, they did not hear Wayne walk in. As he slammed the door behind him, Eddie and Y/n broke apart, before looking up at Wayne sheepishly from underneath the fort. “Well it’s about damn time,” Wayne grumbled. “Sweetheart, who said it first?”

“Uh, Eddie cut me off so he could say it first,” Y/n said, her cheeks turning pink. “Damn it, I guess I owe Nancy $10.” “I can’t believe you bet against me, old man!” “I can, my love,” Y/n said, before kissing Eddie’s cheek. “Wayne, can I heat you up some cocoa? I brought a mug special for you!” “Now what kind of man would I be to say no to that?” Wayne asked. Y/n got up before winking at a blushing Eddie. “Would you like to watch Miracle on 34th Street with us too? We just started the movie, I don’t think you’ve missed much?” “That’s okay sweetheart. I appreciate the offer but I’ll probably leave you lovebirds to it. I’m going to get a drink or two with some guys at work. Can you make sure the couch is ready for me when I get back?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie said, finally speaking up. “I’ll take this with me for the road,” Wayne said, grabbing his new Christmas mug and pressing a kiss to Y/n’s head. “I love the mug, I can’t wait to add it to the collection.” “I’m glad you like it. We will make sure the living room is cleaned up by the time you get back,” Y/n assured Wayne before he nodded and left the trailer. “Finally he’s gone,” Eddie grumbled, pulling Y/n down on top of him. “Does this mean you’re finally my girl?” “I don’t know, are you asking me to be your girlfriend right now, Eddie?” “Yeah, will you be my girlfriend, Y/n?” “I’d love nothing more,” Y/n mumbled before leaning forward to press her lips against Eddie’s. Before she could let Eddie take it any further, she jumped up. “You’re on clean-up duty! I’ll be waiting for you in your room whenever you’re done. I love you, Eds!” Shaking his head, he couldn’t help but look up at the girl who made a pillow fort for him. “I bet I can finish this in less than two minutes!” “Hah, that’s what she said!” Y/n yelled from the bedroom before laughing maniacally. “Keep talking your shit, baby,” Eddie grumbled, running around the living room of the trailer.

A/N: I know it's been a minute since I've written anything so I welcome any positive advice or critique! Any negative or hateful responses will be blocked because I do not have to put up with hateful or mean people. <3

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x afab!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #domestic december #comp-lady domestic december #fckinwild kiwi writing #fckinwild kiwi

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xplrvibes · 1 year ago

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What is your favourite content that SnC have ever produced like do you like the challenges most or the travelling most? Or is the spooky shit the best stuff? Or the XPLR stuff? Basically we've known they've changed up their content alot over the years, but which content have you enjoyed the most? Not one specific video, but like the whole genre, lol. Sorry I suck at wording the thoughts in my brain sometimes.

I totally got what you were asking, anon, no worries!

To me, they had a few very specific style changes, or eras, over the years: the early days stuff with the challenges and sit downs, the xplr days, haunted 1.0 (2019 into the pandemic), the "we don't know what the fuck to do with ourselves cause covid" era, 25x25, and haunted 2.0.

Mixed in with all that have been a few sub-eras that mostly played out on their personal channels, like: the prankz!!!, the 3am challenges, traphouse vlogs, sit down vids, react vids, etc., but I'm mostly just looking at their main channel so I won't include any of that kind of stuff.

For nostalgic purposes, I have to give it to the xplr days. That was when I started watching them and honestly, that stuff was just so simple and pure and not over the top...it was just two idiots breaking into abandoned buildings for 10 minutes a week.

Does that mean I want to see them go back to that? Hell no, lol. I do not want to see two almost 30 year olds with two mansions, a whole ass production team, and a POLICE RECORD trying to recreate their lost youth by breaking into shit. Remakes and reboots never work. Leave xplr in the past so we can all look back on it fondly.

But yea, for nostalgia purposes, that would be my favorite.

As far as production quality, editing, filming and storytelling, I think they hit their stride with the haunted 2.0 content, and truly are putting out the most professional and high quality content they ever have right now. Of their two haunted eras, this era is my favorite for that reason alone, and would definitely be my second favorite era overall.

Coming in third place would be 25x25. I loved the concept of 25x25, and the first couple episodes before they completely lost the plot on it were also great from a production and storytelling standpoint...I just think they tried to do that at the worst possible time and then gave up on it way too easily. Maybe they can try again for 30 (now that they made peace with Elton, I'm sure he'll keep his goddamn ass mouth shut about it if they do, so at least there's that).

The treasure hunting (aka "we don't know what to do with ourselves cause covid") era was...fine, I guess. I liked the videos but I also know they were just scrambling to find some way to keep their channel afloat in the midst of the pandemic, and I also remember all the drama that waa going on around them during those days so I really don't look back on that era too fondly at all, lol.

Haunted 1.0 in 2019...bleh. I enjoyed some of it at the time, but got sick of the antics and theatrics really quick and in my opinion, most of those videos hold up about as well as moldy cheese left in the sun, so...pass, lol.

The pre xplr days stuff is just embarrassing to me, like I get secondhand embarrassment watching a lot of that stuff lol. Hard, hard pass.

#asks #sam and colby #snc video review

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uncwfst · 7 months ago

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Mackenzie Whaley: Honey Head Films Blog #3

Week three at the hive, and I’ve been having such a great time.

I have been working a lot with the platform Airtable. It is software that allows Honey Head to combine the features of a spreadsheet with a database to help us organize and manage information. It’s been very easy to learn and work with this week.

A while ago I sent out emails to a list of actors that Honey Head partners with to see if they would be interested in working with the Shoot Like a Girl summer camp. I’ve been using Airtable to organize who’s able to participate, their headshots, and contact information. That way, the campers will be able to cast efficiently when the time comes.

Also using Airtable, I created a registration form for all the campers coming to Shoot Like a Girl. This form went out with another email about the payment schedule. I love how this platform is able to organize and store data efficiently. I’ve been told that this is a great tool for producers to use during pre-production and production. I am glad I am learning it now! Another way I used Airtable this week was when I was brainstorming locations for the music videos we will be filming for Shoot Like a Girl. I had to research cool and accessible places for us to film music videos and then put them into a spreadsheet on Airtable for us to have easy access later. This week, in preparation for camp, I also designed and sent out scholarship letters on Canvas for the girls coming to camp.

On Friday, we shot content for the Wilmington Underground Film Festival social media accounts.

Isa and I did a little arts and crafts this week, she made this amazing TV head and I painted newspapers. What we filmed were ideas and content that we pitched at our WUFF meeting last week. It’s been really cool to see our ideas come to life. For the festival, we are currently in the process of building up hype and getting submissions.

Overall, I would say I am gaining a lot of experience here at Honey Head, whether that be hard or soft skills. I am so looking forward to next week at the hive!

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dantem2794 · 8 months ago

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INNER WEST FILM FESTIVAL DAY4

4/15 It has been three days since my previous trip to IWFF. During these three days, I had to spend a lot of time beautifying, editing, screening and editing videos and photos. After systematically using lightroom and davinci to pre-process all available photos, I began to upload them one by one to the online network disk shared by the staff. Due to the slowness of my home network, I had to spend a lot of time in front of my computer with it turned on to make sure the uploaded files weren't paused or lost. Unfortunately, bad weather conditions also occurred repeatedly during these three days. Although it was not a complete restart, it also affected the uploading progress of the material to a certain extent (one day, the Internet was completely disconnected for 8 hours. ) In short, before continuing to discuss my processing of the completed shooting materials, let me first record the content of the internship on April 15th. That day, my shift was scheduled at Dendy Cinemas Newtown. The time listed for me in the call sheet I received was 6pm. After the experience of the previous two days, I arrived at the scene at about 5:45. The situation at the scene completely exceeded my expectations. At first glance, the entrance to the cinema was surrounded by crowds and queues. The grand occasion was even higher than the busiest time of the previous day. Just when I thought I was too late and was about to apologize and start shooting as soon as possible, I saw the staff standing relaxedly near the main entrance, showing no signs of being busy at all. This bothers me greatly. Anyway, I packed up my equipment and belongings as quickly as possible, and came forward with my camera in hand to ask about the specific situation. The result is completely out of control. The staff told me that the IWFF media board was not sent, and there were no other organizers on site. All we had was two pillars, a table and some brochures. All the people present were there to take part in a photo session with another actor. It took me a moment to understand what was going on. I cautiously asked what I should do. The staff member helplessly replied that he didn't know, and half-jokingly said to me, "Try taking pictures of other people to participate in our activities?" ’ I also know that this is not realistic, and the most important thing is that it is inappropriate, but anyway I made some small attempts, such as putting the queue of people and the IWFF pillars into the same picture, and placing the brochure in a specific way. Display panels that shape and blur the crowds and other activities behind. Or trying to capture a passerby who comes to ask about our brochure. But the good times did not last long. In just half an hour, the people queuing up at the scene had gradually entered the hall where they were, which meant that the entrance area had become very deserted. As the staff evacuated, I had no choice but to end the day's work.

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lynwaterdamage0 · 2 years ago

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Fire Damage Restoration - How to Get Your Home Back on Its Feet After a Fire

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cheapcourses · 2 years ago

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evans-heaven · 2 years ago

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Scene ; Joseph Quinn

Leave it to me to see one comment asking for a full fic based on one of my Moments drabbles and actually write that shit 😭 I've been working on this piece for weeks and I'm pretty happy with how I left it so here it is for your reading pleasure ;)

Before we start, a couple of things:

This is pre-Feelings (tho reader is very much in love here but doesn't realize it)

The death scene is from the POV of Stacey, your character, and is mostly my dialogue bc i tried watching the actual clip and got less than 10 seconds in before i started crying 🙃 so I'm not gonna torture myself like that y'all sorry lol

Reader is portrayed as having anxiety and overthinks a lot, kinda like in Feelings. I write her like this bc that's pretty much how I am in real life about my own thoughts, feelings, and basically everything else. Aaannnd that's basically it lmao

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x Fem!Actress!Reader

Warnings: Unedited content, strong language, ANGST, description of Eddie's death scene, mentions of blood, mild depictions of anxiety, some fluff, and touching, duh ;)

wc: 3.6k

I already linked the other two fics so read Touch here

Pt 2 here

Prior to this day, you had your assumptions that actors filming a death scene would be pretty tough.

But, now that you were in a position where you yourself would be at the borderline center of one, ‘tough’ was kind of an understatement.

‘Tough’ wasn’t nearly a suitable enough word to describe having to cradle your co-star who was covered in prosthetic wounds and fake blood as he sputtered out I love you’s and goodbye’s, and then ‘died’ in your arms.

Maybe ‘tough’ would be the appropriate term here, if said co-star wasn’t your best fucking friend and the person you were undoubtably closest with on set. Him dying in your arms, even if it was just for the screen, was still an experience that would feel way too real-even if you tried to remind yourself that, at the end of the day, it wasn’t. No matter how true to life it would seem. No matter how damn realistic those wounds looked (why the fuck did Amy and her team have to be so talented?), and no matter how fucking incredible Joe Quinn was at pretending to die.

The words ‘calm down’ echoed in your head like a broken record all day. They had blended into one, to the point where they were incoherent and didn’t seem to make sense. Thus, they did very little to offer comfort.

The day had been frustrating, to put it lightly. But, at least you had Joe.

That morning, during your daily-or hourly-sanctioned bear hug, your heartbeat was so strong he practically heard it pulsing in his ears. That alone told him your anxiety would be working double time that day. It was a serious pain in the agss sometimes.

You and Joe had always been attached at the hip over the last year and some, always hanging off of each other in some way or another. And today, it was with good reason attached to it-not that (consensual) physical touch ever had to have a purpose other than wanting to be close. Having that gentle contact, even if it was just a hand on your shoulder-was more than enough to ground you and halt the overactive thoughts-even if for a couple of minutes.

Although he’d say he was only trying to comfort you, it was obvious your embraces and touches held mutual benefit. Just as he was able to sense your anxiety, you could sense his. The sweaty palms when your fingers laced together during breakfast and lunch weren’t from you, nor were the goosebumps you felt against your collarbones when he held you from behind after you got your makeup done for the scene. This showed you that, despite acting his ass off during rehearsals, it didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous.

But, in typical heartthrob-from-a-90s-novel-written-by-a-woman fashion, all his energy was put into making you feel better, comforted, and assured that everything would be okay. Even if he had no idea what the true driving force was behind your anxiousness.

You couldn’t have asked for a better on screen boyfriend. Stacey Miller-Rhodes was a damn lucky gal. Well, up until her boyfriend got chunks of his flesh ripped from his body by demobats. Meaning he died. Meaning Eddie was gone.

Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.

A sharp knock on your trailer door interrupted your useless mantra, as you jolted, just a little, before giving permission for whoever to enter.

In walked Matt and Ross, warm smiles on their faces. It didn’t do much to ease you, because you knew why they were here.

“Hey, Y/N, you ready?” Ross asked. Matt stood by the door keeping it open, since it was time to go.

You nodded. “Yep,” your voice was even, masking the heavy feeling in your throat. You were not ready.

“Figured we’d come get you ourselves, Joe’s busy with makeup on set, for, you know-”

“I know. Thanks,” you said quickly, cutting Matt off. “Let’s get going, then,” you said, standing up and walking past Matt, exiting your trailer. You heard the door shut softly and their footsteps following behind you.

You were being short with them, but that was because you really only wanted Joe at this moment. Unfortunately, he was currently being ‘deadified’ on set, which is where you were now headed. You two had a little cuddle session in your trailer, where he held you tight and layed kiss after kiss on your forehead, cooing that it would be okay and that you would both be fine. After that, he had to go to the makeup trailer to get his prosthetic wounds applied. The process had taken hours, and then he had to film the scene where Eddie actually got attacked by the bats. This meant it had been a while since you saw him last. So, his mamed and mangled appearance awaited you, when the last time you saw him, he was totally unharmed and at ease.

You entered the building, in which there were only a chosen few people. It was a closed set, just you, Joe, and the necessary crew members. The Duffers believed that because a death scene with a couple was so intimate, you and Joe were the only actors that should be on set.

That, you were thankful for. You were your best self when it was just you and Joe, so you could be your best ‘acting self’, when it was just the two of you as well.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the ‘Upside Down’, a set made to look like the particular spot in the alternate universe where everything would go down. It was tinted blue and almost sent a chill down your spine to look at, from how cold uninviting, and eerie the general vibe of the scenery was. And a little depressing, which was pretty fitting. The backdrop was a blue screen, which would be used to add the background of the setting, to make everything look as real as possible.

You spotted Joe in the middle of the set, the makeup team applying fake blood to his very real looking wounds.

“C’mon, we wanna talk to you and Joe for a second before we start,” Matt told you, and as much as that made sense, you wished Joe was more than just a few feet away so you could prepare a little more for seeing him….like that, outside of the context of the scene.

“Okay,” you said as you three began walking towards him just as makeup finished up their job. When you got to him, you felt yourself tense up at his appearance as you lingered back, just a little bit. He stood awkwardly with his arms slightly hovering away from his body, clearly not wanting to disrupt the fake damage. You could tell from the sight before you that with how much fake blood the team used, those demobats would really do a number on Eddie.

You hated those little CGI bastards.

“Hey,” Joe said, gaining your attention, though his tone was light. You met his eyes, narrowly avoiding the blood streaking the lower half of his face.

“Hi,” you said back, feeling just a little bit of air release from your lungs, not even remembering when you took a breath in. You wanted to make a sarcastic quip to lighten the mood, but words failed you. You didn’t really feel like being funny right now.

“So, you guys remember how the scene goes, Eddie just sacrificed himself and got attacked by the bats, and Stacey runs up to him afterward and sees his body laying there, barely alive, covered in blood and wounds,” Matt began.

You curled your lips in and nodded stiffly, feeling the slightest of shocks run through your body. Calm down.

“I know you two are gonna kill this scene,” Matt continued. “No one understands or could have brought to life Eddie and Stacey better than the two of you,” he said warmly, clamping hands down on both your shoulders. Yours was tense under his touch and Stacey’s clothing.

You had to admit, though, he was right. You had a lot of input into Stacey’s character, taking her from Eddie’s shy girlfriend who was just a tool to enhance how eccentric he was, to a girl with a backstory and reasons for her reserved nature. Knowing Stacey’s history would make the scene even more gut wrenching to film. A girl raised in a household with a domineering step-father who believed women should be seen and not heard, who made her life a living hell under the watchful eye of her mother who did nothing to stop it. Upon turning 18 she left him and his toxicity behind, but carried the burden of years of being forced to subdue herself. Eddie got her to open up to him, but she still carried herself quietly around others. The fear of judgment was damaging.

Because of how much you put into Stacey and the influence you had on her storyline, you knew none of your nervousness had to do with how you’d perform in the scene. You were confident in your abilities as an actress and knew you could carry this scene with the help of Joe perfectly.

“Thanks, guys, that means a lot,” you said to them, gripping the moto jacket you wore, canonically taken by Stacey from Eddie’s closet.

“Yeah, truly, we’ve come a long way from me thinking I would completely ruin the show,” Joe chuckled, the smile on his face juxtaposed by the blood caking it. It was actually kind of off putting.

“Alright, well, let’s get this show on the road!” Mat clapped his hands and walked with his brother offset.

More like let’s get this over with. You were about to walk off to get in your spot, when Joe grabbed your hand gently, stopping you. You turned to face him, brows raised expectantly.

“You good?” he asked.

Deciding to keep this short and sweet, you settled for a quick nod, and a soft ‘yeah’. Satisfied, he released your hand so you could go to your place, just as one of the Duffers yelled “Places!”

When you got to your mark, you looked over to Joe one more time, who was already looking your way. You could feel the intensity of his stare from where you stood, those gorgeous brown eyes and the way they sparkled no matter the lighting or setting. He gave you a smile, and you returned one, unable to ever not do so. It managed to give you a new found confidence you lacked just seconds prior. He took his position on the ground, and then, it was time.

There was no turning back once it began. Unless you swiveled on your heels and ran in the opposite direction, which was tempting.

Once it happened, everything you were worried about could become a possibility to follow suit.

You sucked in an unstable breath and closed your eyes, savoring a final moment of calm before those two little word were uttered-

“And….ACTION!”

You took off.

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

Stacey’s heart was ramming against her ribcage the moment she re-entered the upside down, but when she saw her boyfriend lying limp on the cold, wet ground, she swore her legs would give out as her heart seemed to cease in its entirety.

He had gone back. He wanted to be a hero. He didn’t want to run anymore, but God, she wished he did.

“Eddie!” Stacey called out, voice unstable and legs threatening to give out from underneath her as she sprinted towards him. Somewhere in the corner of her mind that was swarming with fears of what would happen to him, she began to pray to whoever there was that could hear her and help him.

Please let him be okay. Please. Please. Please.

“Ed, babe, oh my God,” Stacey whispered, and fell to her knees before his broken down form. His torso was torn to shreds, his Hellfire shirt almost completely soaked with blood from his wounds. She took hold of him and pulled the upper half of his body into her lap, feeling the red substance begin to seep through her jeans.

The demo bats surrounded the two of them, incapacitated, laying limp on the floor of the upside down-taunting you. Blissfully unaware that they had probably just taken the love of Stacey's life away from her, brutally, with no remorse, as he tried so desperately to be the hero, not the coward he convinced himself he was.

“Ed, are you with me? Can you hear me?” Stacey asked him softly, not wanting to scare him. She brushed his hair from his face and tried to meet his eyes, his gaze unfocused and teary.

Eddie’s voice came out shaky and weak from his blood coated mouth, his cheeks smeared with it. “I did it,” he choked out. “I didn’t run anymore,”

There was no denying he felt some semblance of pride at what he did, and because of that, Stacey couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though the tension in the noise was palpable. “Yeah, yeah baby, you’re so brave,” she told him.

The proud smile he bore was distorted by a look of pain as he shifted slightly. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” he groaned, in clear discomfort.

One of her hands applied pressure to one of the many wounds that marred his torso as he shivered in her arms. “No, no babe, it’s fine, you're gonna be okay,” she stumbled out, trying to sound as confident in her words as possible, when everything about the situation told her that her words were not the truth. “We just….we just need to get to you to a hospital and everything’s gonna be okay, Ed, don’t worry,”

“No. I think this was it, baby,” he met his girlfriend’s gaze, his jaw trembling as more blood dribbled out the sides of his mouth as he took in barely there, labored breaths. “This was finally my year,”

Stacey choked out helpless cries, caressing his face, and shaking her head. This couldn’t be his year, this couldn’t be the way it ended. He was supposed to finally graduate and the two of them were supposed to get the hell out of Hawkins together, away from all the bullshit media propaganda and pearl clutching PTA moms. They were going to get out of there and be happy together. That was how it was supposed to fucking be, goddammit.

“No,” Stacey gritted.“This isn’t over yet, you’re gonna be okay, Ed,” she nodded stiffly, lips trembling as salty tears flowed into the seam. “We’re just gonna wait a little until the others get here, then we’re gonna carry you out of this hellhole and take you to a hospital, and the doctors there are going to fix you, baby, they’re going to make the bleeding go away, and stitch you up and give you some meds, and then you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she chanted weakly as her cheeks became soaked with tears. She wanted to speak it into existence, even as reality clawed and fought its way to the front of her mind.

“Baby,” he cooed. He placed a cold hand on hers, the one that still pressed against one of his wounds, gripping it weakly. Always the one who wanted to comfort her, even if he needed it way more in this situation. “I’ve fulfilled my duty as Eddie the Banished, I didn’t run, and I saved the town,” he told her.

“That town doesn’t deserve your sacrifice, Eddie,” Stacey argued pathetically.

“I saved you,�� he stressed, making it known that this act was with only one person at the forefront as motivation, the rest of the town behind her. “And you’re worth it, Stacey. You’re so. Fucking. Worth it,” he said to her, lacing their fingers together, pulling the back of her hand up to his lips, and pressing a bloodied kiss to the cold, dirty skin.

“I love you so much,” he said as firmly as his shutting down body would let him.

It hurt her to not say those words back, but she knew why he said them, and she didn’t want to accept this as the end.

“Ed, don't you dare say goodbye,” she told him through her tears, trying to sound strong and sure, but it wasn’t possible. “This isn’t the end for you, this isn’t the end for us,” she said.

“Stacey, baby, I want you to listen to me,” Eddie began, the wobble in his voice impossible to ignore now as he tried to raise his head as much as he could, wanting her to truly take in his next words. “When you go back, I want you to go home and pack all of your shit, as much as you can carry, and I want you to get on the next bus out, because you’re gonna leave that shithole Hawkins. You’re gonna tell that place to kiss your ass and you’re gonna run like hell out of there without so much as a single glance back,”

Stacey shook her head, understanding where this was headed, not wanting to hear a word more. “Ed, no-”

“You’re gonna find some place for the both of us, somewhere where the people aren’t shallow minded assholes, where we can be whoever the fuck we want to be with each other, and I want you to live your life everyday as you would have if I was there,’

“Eddie, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. I don’t want you to cave back into yourself, baby. You’re the most beautiful, brilliant, incredible human being I’ve ever met and everyone deserves to know you and appreciate you as you are. Do you hear me?”His proclamation to her ended with that simple question, and he left no room for argument.

She absorbed all his words, every letter, every syllable, struggling to accept that the life they wanted to have together, would have to continue on without him. The life she wanted with him would totally and completely absolve her from the one she had growing up. Could she do it? Could she move on?

Those answers remained to be determined, but the one thing she absolutely couldn’t do was argue with him anymore. She just didn’t have it in her to deny him his dying wish, or keep fighting what he had already accepted.

Closing her eyes, more droplets fell, mixing with his blood. She felt herself nodding before she could even consider another response in her mind. “Yeah,” she whispered in a watered down voice. “Yeah, baby, I hear you,” she opened her eyes and met his own once more.

“Good,” he replied. “Good,” his voice was noticeably more floaty that time.

They fell silent. They just looked into one another’s eyes, exchanging so many words and feelings that would completely consume what little time they had left together. His hand was still laced with hers, pressed against his chest, where she could feel his weakening heart beat.

“I love you so much,” he repeated his words from earlier, breaking the hauntingly peaceful quiet. It was barely above a whisper practically mouthed, but she heard him, loud and clear. And as soon as those words came out, he looked ahead blankly, his eyes slowly beginning to lose the light in them Stacey loved so much.

“Eddie, no, please,” she gritted, tears dripping from her eyes uncontrollably. “Stay with me, baby, please,” she pleaded urgently, brushing more of his damp hair out of the way and patting his cheek lightly, trying to get him to remain alert….alive. She just wanted one more moment with him. Just one.

But then, she felt it.

His body stilled.

His grip on her hand went limp.

His eyes lost any life left in them.

“Eddie,” she whimpered, hand remaining on his cheek. Her body shook uncontrollably as she let the tears fall freely onto him, her agony and pain taking over as she held his lifeless form close to hers. She repeated his name through her cries, trying to wake him, trying to make this nightmare end. She leaned down and pressed her forehead to his, wanting to feel him as close as possible, for what was the very last time.

“I love you, too,” Stacey whispered, her lips touching the skin between his eyebrows. If those words meant anything anymore, she wanted it to be at this moment.

Because she truthfully didn’t know when-or if- she would ever say them again.

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

“CUT!”

It was like a switch went off in you, as reality made its presence known once more.

The scene was done, the Duffers yelled cut, it was over.

However, the moment fully sank in when Joe rose up and took your hands in his, pulling you upright and bringing you into a warm embrace. You didn’t care about the fake blood that would get all over your front or the fact that his back was soggy and caked with damp dirt, you threw your arms around him and held on tightly, rivaling the hold he had on you.

“You did so incredible, babes, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in your ear, his long fingers running up and down your sides lightly, almost tickling, but you reveled in it and his touch. You closed your eyes blissfully as you came down from your high, feeling the tears drying on your face, thankful makeup used waterproof eye makeup.

“Yeah, you too,” you said back for his ears only, as the Duffers and the rest of the crew approached you both. You let each other go, though his arm remained on the small of your back, as everyone began delivering their praise. The voices became so jumbled you could barely register who said what. So, you just smiled and nodded and gave your gratitude along with Joe, whose hand rubbed soothing circles against your waist.

Now, to face reality.

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

Part 2 where Joe and reader discuss why she was so nervous coming Saturday 🥰 it was originally part of this fic, but it was getting way too damn long, so a split was needed lol. Stay tuned Joe girlies 😘

#joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x actress!reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn writing #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc

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aanglican · 11 months ago

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@lawchan89 i don’t know where you’re getting “they keep saying they want this to be their game of thrones” from. this is the actual quote from the showrunner albert kim. there is only one mention of game of thrones:

This show, even as a Nickelodeon show, went pretty far in terms of mature themes and scenes, things that you didn't see before. (��) And especially as the series went on, Seasons 2 and 3 are a lot more mature in theme than, say, Season 1 was. So for us, it was about striking that right balance, of making sure you were true to the DNA of the original. But at the same time, we had to make it a serialized Netflix drama, which meant it couldn't just be for kids. It had to also appeal to the people who are big fans of Game of Thrones. And so, it had to feel grounded and mature and adult in that way too. So that's, like I said, the tightrope that we have to walk.

this means they want the target audience for the remake to be expanded from the original, which was a kid’s show rated TV-Y7. netflix’s avatar on the other hand is rated TV-14, not TV-MA. there is not going to be gratuitous displays of guts, rape, and sex.

the only time i’ve seen people involved with the show make sturdier comparisons with game of thrones was in 2019 during a pre-production VFX leak. it came from someone claiming to work at one of the VFX companies that netflix was then reaching out to for work on avatar: the last airbender. here is the quote from that person:

We filmed two test scenes in a huge green screen studio in Los Angeles: one in Lord Ozai’s throne room, and the other in the tundra with Katara and Sokka. All the backdrops were keyed digitally.

From what I gathered, Netflix has reached out to multiple VFX companies to do these sorts of tests, so this was just one company’s bid. Word on set was that Netflix was planning to film most of the show on-location in Vancouver and Hawaii. Somebody also said Netflix wants this Avatar series “to be their own Game of Thrones.”

this comparison comes after mentioning the scale of the series and likely had nothing to do with the actual content. (to put it into context: netflix’s avatar is one of the most expensive original series they have ever distributed with a budget of over $15,000,000 per episode. pixomodo, the same VFX studio working on game of thrones and house of the dragon, has built one of the largest virtual production studios for this series.)

avatar live action tea - and it’s about both the 2010 and 2024 versions!!!

sean gantka from the legend of korra team responds to questions about rumors of bryke having needed to leave the 2010 production of shyamalan’s the last airbender, essentially breaking down the reasons to being that bryke had little to no say in the direction of the film and that shyamalan was a one-man team who ignored counsel on how to translate the cartoon into a live action. before leaving during the production of the film they did expect to be much more involved in the project than they actually were, as evident by mike’s words below: (source; avatarspirit, 2007)

as for the 2024 adaptation, there really were creative differences between bryke and netflix (which i find odd since netflix is known to be quite hands off. but then again, natla is expected to be their next flagship show so there was probably a lot more micro management there) and that avatar studios was in talks while they were still developing the new series. whether this was the nail to the coffin in their decision to abandon ship the second time, we may not know for sure until much later.

#add #natla #i am going to 💣 variety and discussingfilm for their ragebait-y coverage of this show #out of all the quotes to pull why did it have to be the one-off mention of game of thrones #long post

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therenlover · 4 years ago

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The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)

(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love

Rating: T

Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot

Word Count: 7000~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!

------

The University of Novi Grad

Fall 1996

Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.

Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.

From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.

There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.

You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.

That being said there was something else too…

Someone else to be specific.

The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.

He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.

All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.

You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.

If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?

Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.

Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.

Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.

So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.

As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.

Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.

Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.

When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.

The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.

He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.

He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.

You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.

“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”

Shit.

“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.

Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.

Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”

“It is not an accusation if it is true,”

“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”

“But you were. This happens every week,”

You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”

Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”

“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”

The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.

“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”

Fuck.

Friday was only two days away.

You were so screwed.

The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.

Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.

Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.

“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”

He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”

“Who isn’t?”

Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”

Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”

Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.

A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.

“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.

Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...

There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.

Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.

You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.

Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.

If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…

The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.

Your eyes scanned the wall.

Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…

Gilgamesh!

On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…

You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.

“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”

Of course they had stools.

If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.

In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”

You stopped short.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.

There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.

He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.

“Would you like my help?”

“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.

“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”

“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”

In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.

“Thanks for that,”

“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”

You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”

“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.

You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.

“Your hair is really nice!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah… your hair,”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”

Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?

“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.

“It was definitely a compliment,”

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat.

That was a new revelation.

You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”

He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”

“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”

With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.

“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.

“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”

The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”

Shit.

Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?

In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.

“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.

“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”

“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”

His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”

Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless.

“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”

“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.

Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.

You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.

“Who said anything about letting you pay?”

True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.

The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.

Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.

“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.

Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”

“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”

“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”

You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”

“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”

“Absolutely,”

The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.

If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”

He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”

“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”

“Absolutely,”

“Then I can’t wait to try one,”

The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.

Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.

Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.

“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”

Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”

You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”

The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”

“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”

“Alright,”

There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.

You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.

He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”

It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”

Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.

“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”

Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”

“I think I would,”

“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”

Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.

“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”

Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”

Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”

The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”

“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”

“Then it’s a deal,”

“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”

“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”

With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.

Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.

He had invited you over to his apartment.

He liked you.

Easel boy really, honestly liked you.

No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.

Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.

You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.

Hel.

It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.

Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.

------

a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx , @be-cautious-around-bri , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car , @frothonthedaydreams

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #fanfiction

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whenfatecollides · 2 years ago

Note

I'm curious about what you mean with DC notes being different before 2020 and now. Cause I've also noticed that something change but can really describe it, so maybe you'll put it into words better fjdjdsjsjdj I hope you have a lovely day 💖

well I don't know if I'm right, these are just my observations and interpretations trying to make sense of it. but I think pre-boca era (scream era still had good dc notes) there were actually things they wanted to share, there were a lot of members interactions, whether it was them playing around, messing with each other, or just hanging out, and rather than talking to the fandom and sort of putting on their idol persona, they were just in the moment if that makes sense? they were still putting on an idol persona in the sense that they were doing entertaining stuff to later be added to the notes of course, but they weren't acting like insomnias /were/ there all the time, like it started feeling during boca era. I get that with the pandemic things became really repetitive and stagnant, but it definitely started feeling like the notes became a sort of chore for them rather than something they used to do to share some behind the scenes moments like before. the notes started being more the members just talking to insomnias individually than anything else, talking abt what they ate, what they did etc, which of course is fine if they want to share, but that feels like the sort of thing you'd get in a live instead of a dc note (in a way I think this also aggravated the possessive part of the fandom). the notes are slowly starting to feel more like before tho! specially this era, but whatever the reason was/is, whether it's because they're filtering more the content they put out, or because their managers just aren't catching as many moments as before (it does kinda feel like the manager(s) who used to film are too busy or just aren't around anymore but I'm just speculating here), or because there's things they just don't want to share anymore, or because there just isn't as much to share, I would rather they make the notes a bit shorter than feed even more this parasocial relationship that is clearly affecting some people negatively asdkjh maybe it's just me, but I mostly enjoy the dc notes for that glimpse we get of how funny, playful and caring dc are with each other. I know that as they gain more popularity they'll be a bit more self aware as well but idk sometimes I wish they didn't "care" so much abt the fandom in those moments? probably not my best choice of words but I don't know how else to explain it lmao

#anyway I might be completely off here but that's the conclusion I've come to the past year #ask

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark

explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.

[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

💚 masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq 💚

Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.

His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.

Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.

Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.

"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.

He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.

A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.

Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.

A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.

It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?

"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-

"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.

"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"

Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."

Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."

With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.

Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.

"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."

Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.

Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.

Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.

"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.

With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.

Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.

The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.

Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.

And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.

Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.

"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."

He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.

"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.

Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"

Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."

The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.

Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.

The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.

"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"

The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.

"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.

His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.

Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.

The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.

He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.

---

An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.

Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.

The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.

Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.

Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.

Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.

"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.

"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.

With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.

"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.

The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.

"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.

"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.

"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"

She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.

Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.

"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."

Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.

The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"

"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.

"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."

The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.

Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.

Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.

The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.

"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."

The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.

"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.

"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.

Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.

Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.

Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.

"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."

Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.

"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.

She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.

The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.

Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.

No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.

She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.

"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.

"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.

It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.

"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.

"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.

The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.

"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.

He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.

"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.

The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.

"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.

"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.

There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.

"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."

The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.

"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.

"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.

It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.

As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.

"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.

Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful

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