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fairydustblossom · 7 months

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encroaching promises

azriel x reader

summary: based on this request "I would love if you wrote something where Azriel was a dick and he has to GROVEL. (Angst feeds my soul) please and thank you."

category: angst (i just rly love it)

word count: 4.8k

warnings: slightly nsfw in some parts, emotional (not physical) disloyalty ?? maybe ?? kinda ??

notes: umm this was so fun to write! it came to me so fast like I didn't even have to edit it?? hopefully it's good lmao anways i hope you enjoy this @liddyr03, thank you for sending in a request!!

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Something had shifted between you and Azriel. It had been a gradual shift, one you had felt coming on for some time- but you could have never expected the reason for the growing distance between you and your mate.

He had been working longer hours, waking up earlier, barely spending any free time with you and you knew the middle Archeron sister had a part in it. You had tried to ignore it, their growing closer. Azriel had taken a liking to her. At first, your heart had warmed at Azriel’s willingness to help. There had not been many opportunities in his life where he could help someone directly, not just in a battlefield or in an interrogation room. You witnessed the impact it had on him, you could feel his inner peace, the way he viewed himself, his self worth improving- and you were proud of him. You really were happy that Azriel was finally seeing himself in a way you had always seen him. You believed in kindness, in helping others, in going above and beyond for someone in need, you had always preached it to Azriel. It had been one of the things that had drawn him to you, seeing in you traits he wanted to possess. But now, it had gone too far.

You had noticed Elain and Azriel growing closer and closer. You had pushed your wariness aside, opting to be kind to her, hoping to help her in the way Azriel was doing so. Maybe she could be a good friend to you both, you thought. But Elain had not been as welcoming to your helping hand. Instead, she had treated you as she had treated all other fae, like you were a monster, personally responsible for her family's misfortune.

You tried time and time again to be graceful, to brush off her rudeness. You chose to be understanding, to put yourself in her shoes. But still, she treated you poorly. When you would join Azriel in visiting her, you noticed the difference in treatment. How she would look at him, and how she would look at you, like you had something she wanted.

Eventually, you stopped joining Azriel in his visits, finding it hard to control your feelings of jealousy and not wanting to come across as an irrational possessive mate. He was only helping her get better, you told yourself.

After you stopped going together, you noticed how his visits grew longer and longer. The longer he would be there, the more you would question it. What are they doing? Why is she keeping him there? Is it him that wants to stay longer?

The questions would run through your head until the moment he would walk into your shared chambers. You would lay your eyes upon your tired mate, but you would catch the gleam in his eyes, happy with himself for doing some good for once, and you would push aside all jealousy. How could you ever doubt your mate? The very same male that had worshiped you for years, that had vowed his undying love to you, who was bound to your soul. And so you would welcome him home with open arms, letting him fall to bed, little words spoken of his day.

It kept on like this, for months, till a whole year had passed and you no longer recognized your relationship with Azriel. You barely spoke anymore, going through your established routines around each other in silence. What had once brought you so much comfort, now left you fretting that something had irrevocably changed. You knew next to nothing about what Azriel was thinking, of where he spent his days, although you had a good idea of who he spent them with. You who had once been his closest confidant, wrapped in his arms till late hours of the night, whispering every thought that crossed through your minds to each other. You were barely having any sex. What used to be almost a daily activity, was now a hurried fuck in the dark, taking no time to explore one another's bodies, only looking for a quick release. You hadn’t actually seen your mate’s body in months. Had Azriel finally had enough of yours after all this time?

Elain’s smell had practically been imprinted on him. You never smelled any sex, no, and you thought, no you hoped, that Azriel would never do that. But it hurt all the same when you could smell her on his clothing, for that only happened when a fae was around all the time.

You had decided to take matters into your own hands. You were waiting for Azriel to come home, wearing his favorite silk slip that you had surprised him with on the night of your mating ceremony. Determination drove you- you would not let him go to bed without first feeling satiated.

And so you waited, your belly fluttering with parts equal nerves and excitement. You were excited because you knew your mate would melt at the sight of you, and love on you like you were accustomed to. You felt maybe all you and Azriel needed was one night to destress, to reconnect and everything would be back to normal.

When Azrile came home, his eyes immediately darkened at the sight of you, he recognized the slip you were wearing, images of your mating ceremony flashing through his mind. He was overcome with need for you and it only took a matter of minutes before you were pressed up against the wall, lost in a hungry kiss. You sent all your excitement down the bond and he groaned into the kiss, sending his desire right back. You were elated, nothing pleased you more than the feeling of Azriel against you and feeling the bond thrumming with need.

Azriel was quick to pick you up and carry you to your shared bedroom, tossing you on the bed. You sat up on your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting to slow this down a bit. You could feel how badly he wanted you, not only through the bond but by the bulge pressing into your flushed bodies. The mother knew you wanted him just as badly, and any other time you would have given into your needs in a desperate attempt to chase the release you were craving. But you wanted to take him in, wanting to drag this out as long as possible, to drink in the sight of his glorious body that your eyes had been deprived of.

You pressed your forehead against his, willing your breath to calm down. Azriel pulled his head back a bit, brows furrowing slightly and a look of confusion overtaking his eyes, “You alright, love?” a wave of worry flowed down the bond, his hands roamed your body, bringing you comfort and spreading warmth all over.

You flushed slightly, butterflies erupting in your belly at hearing the pet name. Your ears perked, not having heard the endearment in so many months. Gods, you had missed him. You smiled shyly at him, and gave him a slight nod. Azriel felt his knees buck, so many years later and a single look from you could make him feel like the inexperienced younglin he used to be back at the camps. You looked so so lovely in that slip, the shy look you gave him, eyes shining with love, and the pink tint on your cheeks he had elicited all warmed his heart. He brought a hand up to your face, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear, resting his hand at the base of your jaw all while staring intently into your eyes. When he saw your cheeks flush a darker red, he gave you a charming grin, amused and delighted by the sudden shyness in you. He loved that he still had that effect on you, as if you were meeting for the first time.

“I’m alright Az, just taking you in” you murmured, your voice sounding like honey to his ears.

“You can take me in all you want Y/N, I’m all yours to look at” he murmured back, dipping down to place warm loving kisses on your neck. You were delighted by his words, breathing him in deeply, relishing in the smell of his arousal. You felt delirious and giddy all at once, yes, you thought, all mine. Wishing to remind him, you sent the possessiveness you were feeling down the bond, making Azriel growl and nip at your neck more feverishly, marking you as his. He loved when you claimed him just as much as claiming you, feeling lucky to have someone in his life that wanted him as badly as he had always wanted.

The feeling of Azriel’s nipping and sucking your neck urged you on to keep undressing him. Undoing all the clasps you had started unfurling downstairs, you removed the tight fitting top of his leathers. You ran your hands along his arms, taking pleasure in the warmth of his bare skin against your fingertips. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, trailing your gaze up his tattooed arms, to his chest, hands sliding along- when your eyes snagged on something just below his pec and you halted all your movements. Azriel buried in your neck still, stopped as well, feeling you tense up. You pulled back, taking a good look at what your eyes had seen. It was a tattoo. One you hadn’t seen before.

Your heart sank, hurt overpowering any feeling of desire you had been feeling. The unexpectedness of the moment had left you vulnerable, leaving your side of the bond wide open for Azriel to feel the sudden shift in your emotions. He froze, suddenly panicked at why you were hurting and he pulled back, grasping your arms and holding you at arms length. He tried meeting your eyes, noticing they were locked in on his torso. When he looked down he saw what you were staring at.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the rose shaped tattoo resting on his right rib. You didn't know what it meant, but you had a feeling you knew what, or rather who, had been the cause of it. You thought of Elain and her precious garden. You thought of Elain and her treasured white roses. You couldn’t fight the tears that lined your eyes and you moved out of Azriel’s grasp to the other side of the room, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

Azriel felt his heart sink at the way you fled his touch, as if he had burned you. He saw the look in your eyes and felt his that his world was crashing down.

“What is that Azriel?” you asked, struggling to conceal the wobble in your voice, not actually wanting to hear the truth you already knew.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down at the tattoo your gaze hadn’t drifted from and then looked back up at you. Forcing himself to look at you, even if it made him feel like the biggest dickhead.

“It’s… It’s a promise” he said, wishing he didn’t have to tell you and see the betrayal in your eyes. He had been avoiding this conversation, feeling disgusted at himself for having made the promise in a lapse of judgment.

He saw the fire ignite in your eyes, anger rising at his answer. You already knew it was a promise, and he was aware you wanted more of an explanation. He only hoped you could forgive him, for he did not know if he could forgive you if it were the other way around. Shame creeped up his spine and he mustered up the courage to confess his mistake. He had barely been able to look at himself since the tattoo had seared itself onto his skin and he had opted to ignore it all together- to pretend it wasn’t there. Azriel had done so much pretending, that the tattoo had been fully forgotten moments earlier when he had welcomed and encouraged you to look upon him.

At your lack of response, he cleared his throat and carried on, praying to the mother in his head, for he knew he was about to hurt you and he would hate himself for having caused you pain, “I made a promise. I-I made a promise to Elain.”

You looked up at him then, and the pain he saw in your eyes made him feel sick to his stomach, knowing he has caused it. “Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off, your voice terrifyingly low “What did you promise her Azriel?”

His cheeks were red and his body felt hot with shame as he replied, “I promised I would always be there to protect her.”

His words, uttered barely above a whisper, felt like daggers to your heart. You flinched, unable to conceal the effect they had on you. The tears broke free, you managed to hold in your sobs by biting the inside of your cheeks, but you couldn’t hold back the tears. You were biting so hard you tasted blood, and the world felt like it was spinning. You couldn’t find any words, there was nothing to say. He had promised her something he was supposed to only ever promise you.

“I fucked up. I know I did, I’ve been working out a way to undo it.” He started to plead, taking a few steps to close the distance between you. You stepped away, not letting him get near, barely hearing his words over the rushing sound in your ears. “Rhys and Feyre have been helping me find a way to break it. We actually know how, the same way they broke their deal from under the mountain, we just need Elain to-”

You were done listening to him, his words only adding to the hurt you were feeling. Rhys and Feyre knew your mate had promised his protection to another? Did everyone know? Why hadn’t he told you?

“Leave” you hissed at him. You didn’t care to hear his excuses, you were done. Never would you have ever spent so much time with another male, never would you have ever made such an intimate promise.

“What?” he asked. He had been expecting you to react this way, for months he had been mentally preparing himself. But to hear you actually say it still caught him off guard. “Y/N, please, I can expl-”

“Leave” you said again, your voice strengthening with conviction. “Get out of my home, Azriel.” You felt if Azriel stayed any longer you would go mad, and you meant your words. This was not a home anymore, not with him in it. He had bound his soul to another, and kept it from you. If he remained here any longer, you don’t know what you would do. You could feel your power thrumming in your veins, begging for release.

Azrile looked heartbroken, like a man that had lost everything he cared about in this world. He pleaded with his eyes, pushing everything he was feeling down the bond, hoping you would take back his words. When you only looked away as a response, he knew he had to respect your wishes. It pained him unlike anything else to leave you alone after the damage he had caused but he understood there was nothing he could do at that moment to make it better. He steeled himself, calling all his shadows to him, fighting with the ones that were wrapped around you trying to comfort you, and then he vanished.

You broke down when Azriel left, letting the pain of your failed relationship consume you. The image of the rose tattoo was all you could see behind your eyes and you ran to the bathroom to release the bile that had risen up your throat. You sat there on the floor, picturing all the interactions you had witnessed between Azriel and Elain. You could have prevented this, you couldn’t help but think, if you had only stepped in sooner. If you had only kept that girl away from your mate. If you had only shown her anything other than kindness. You had in a sense, lost your mate to another woman. For how could he spend his days with you when he promised to protect another for the rest of her days?

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Azriel knew he had to fix this. He honestly had already been trying to, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of the promise he had made Elain. A promise that she had coerced him into. But to be rid of it, she had to be in agreement. Rhys and Feyre had helped him contact Helion and that is what he had told them. The High Lord of day had also told them it would cause great pain, which Elain had grasped onto in her refusal to break the promise. She argued she had been through enough in the past years to willingly put herself through more pain.

Azriel blamed himself, really. For letting Elain get so close to him, for having been there at her beck and call to the point she expected, no demanded, that treatment from him all the time. He had spent the last few months attempting to convince Elain to go through with breaking the promise. He was doing everything he could for her, hoping if he did enough she would come to her senses and consent to Helion’s spell.

He kept telling himself she was only holding on to this because she had lost everything else in her life, it made her feel that she was finally in control of something- that she didn’t mean his beloved any harm. But Azriel had come to the realization that whether Elain meant to hurt others or not with her actions- she was being selfish with them. He was devoted to you and he would not let Elain cost him what he prized so dearly in his life. His mate, he kept thinking, he would not lose his mate.

Rhys and Feyre were curled against one another in the living room when Azriel winnowed in, looking distraught, wings drooped, and frantic shadows dispersing around the room- swallowing all light. He dropped down to his knees, tears lining his eyes as he looked up at his High Lord and High Lady. They were instantly alarmed, Rhys dropping to the floor to join his brother while Feyra went to Azriel’s side. Rhys grabbed Azriel’s face in his hands, quickly assessing him for any injuries, he tried peeking into Azriel’s mind and only saw your pained expression. Azriel dropped his head on his brother's shoulder, looking like a fallen angel, and he cried. “Please help me. Please, brother”.

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For the next few weeks, you had isolated yourself- putting wards around the house to prevent any of your family from winnowing in. You had felt each of them attempt to come in, to console you, but you refused to let them in.

You couldn’t forgive them, at least not anytime soon, for having kept this from you. You felt embarrassed. You didn’t know how long ago the promise had been made, you didn’t know how long they had known- all the interactions you had with your family since the time Elain came were now painted in a different light in your mind. Had they all thought you a fool? To let your mate get so close to another female, when Elains affections for Azriel had so clearly been written on her face? You couldn’t bear to face them, knowing they had kept this from you.

You had also distanced yourself because you weren’t sure of what you would do if you came across Elain. Your territorial feelings had only been enhanced and you were scared of what you would do to your High Lady’s older sister if you saw her.

Azriel had tried almost everyday to talk to you, but you remained firm in your decision, refusing to yield to his pleas. You had received countless notes from Rhys, the only one who could get past your wards, and had burned them all. Until the latest one. You had been reading when a note appeared on the page you were on. Unlike the other ones, this one did not come to you unfolded so you had no option but to read the words they said. “It is done. Azriel is recovering in the infirmary.” The note raised your heartbeat and caused dozens of questions to rise within you. Suddenly Azriel’s absence the past few days made sense. He had been resolute everyday since you had kicked him out in gaining your forgiveness, staying outside the door to your home waiting for the day you would let him back in. He hadn’t pushed or attempted to break through your wards, and you knew he could, he was the spymaster after all; instead, he had patiently waited, accepting his punishment. Every night, for weeks he had waited, until a few days ago, when he had disappeared and hadn’t come back. You figured he had gotten tired, or given up- you were still too hurt to find out why he had left.

Now, worry filled you. Was he okay? What did Rhys mean by “recovering”? You recalled the time Rhys and Feyre had faked breaking their bond, fooling everyone by breaking the promise they had made instead- you remembered their shouts of pain, and that was the High Lord and the High Lady, the two most powerful fae in all of Prythian.

You quickly stood up, pacing around the room, trying to decide what to do. Deep down you knew even if you didn’t go right now, adamant in your stubbornness, worry would eat you and thoughts of Azriel would consume you. Acknowledging you wouldn’t be able to go an hour without knowing, you made your decision and winnowed to the infirmary.

When you arrived, the sight of Azriel made you gasp. He looked awful. You could see the stark dark circles under his eyes, his ruffled hair, the pain expression etched on his face even as he slept. He looked thinner too, as if he hadn’t been eating well- he hadn’t, you learned later on, too sick at his own actions to feel any appetite at all.

You rushed to his side, grasping one of his hands, they felt cold, almost lifeless, and you reached deep within to the bond that tethered your soul to his, the bond you had buried deep down within you and ignored for weeks. You sighed with relief when you found it and tugged on it. He was still there you could feel, but the bond was dulled, as if life had been sucked out of it.

You burst into tears, never having imagined that the beautiful bond you cherished would ever be in such a weak state. This feeling you had feared, the feeling of Azriel fighting for his life, of barely being there overwhelmed you.

You cried for him, for your love, for everything that had happened until your throat felt hoarse and the tears wouldn’t come anymore. You had sat there by his side for hours, squeezing his hand and murmuring his name over and over, tugging at the bleak bond, willing it to go back to normal.

All night you spent by his side, the sun was now rising over the mountains of Velaris when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. It was firm and gentle- Rhys. You didn’t look up at him, your head pressed against Azriel’s hand, cradled within your own. When your tears had dried you had resorted to praying to the mother, you were convinced if you prayed enough he would be okay and you wouldn’t let anything interrupt the prayers that tumbled out of you.

“Y/N” Rhys mumbled, sitting down next to you, arm now wrapped around you. “He’s going to be okay.”

When he realized you would not acknowledge him until you felt satisfied with your orison, Rhys pulled you into a hug, waiting for you to finish. He does not know how long he sat there next to you, only that the sun was now high up in the sky. You slumped against him, still not letting go of Azriel's hand and started crying again. “You knew” he heard you say, and he felt a pang in his chest. He realized now that not only had you been hurt by Azriel, but he had hurt you as well.

He nodded, “I’m sorry for keeping it from you.” He said “I was only doing what I thought best. I will let Azriel explain everything when he wakes up, I want you to hear it all from him. But just know I am sorry”

He felt your body shake more violently at the mention of Azriel. “What if he doesn’t wake up?” you asked, voice small and filled with agony.

“He will, Y/N. He will.” He pulled you away to look in your eyes, making sure you were taking in his words. “Madja and Helion have both guaranteed that he will wake up, his body just needs to heal.”

You nodded, calming down slightly at his words. “How long has he been here?”

At this, he looked down, embarrassed to tell you he had kept yet another thing from you in hopes that Azriel could go to you himself and tell you he had gotten rid of the promise. “He has been here a few days, I-I didn’t take it would take long for him to wake up. I wanted him to be able to tell you.”

You only nodded, having already guessed as much, piecing together Azriel’s absence outside your door with his unconscious body. Later, you would give Rhys hell for keeping it from you, but currently you had no energy to fight. You leaned into his hug further, needing the comfort he provided and resigned yourself to waiting.

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It took three more days for Azriel to wake up, Rhys had briefly explained that the impact had been greater than it should have been because they had manipulated Elain into consenting to break the promise instead of her going willingly into it. You could feel the anger Rhys felt towards his sister in law as he explained- making sure you understood they had coerced her in a way not too unlike how she had done to Azriel when he made the promise. Your anger towards Azriel had diminished, you still wanted to hear what he had to say, but you were ready to forgive him. All you wanted was for him to wake up.

You were sitting next to Azriel, head nodding off in sleep. After almost four days of little to no sleep, you were struggling to fight it off. Your eyes had fully shut and you could feel yourself drifting when you felt the hand you were holding twitch.

Immediately you gasped and sat up, watching with wide eyes as Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed. He seemed to battle with himself to wake up and once he finally did you stood up grabbing a cup of water for him. He looked at you with daze eyes and croaked out, “I’m sorry”

Your heart melted, his voice was barely there and you shushed him, raising the cup to his lips, urging him to drink some water. He gulped down the water you offered, pulling back to catch his breath, then he looked at you again, eyes filled with sorrow before he whispered again “I’m so sorry, my love”

You only nodded, too overwhelmed with emotion to form any words. Instead, you pushed everything you were feeling down the bond and in return Azriel poured all of his love. You could feel how sorry he was, his love for you, his sadness. His eyes watered at feeling the bond thrumming again, he had been convinced he would never feel it again and he thanked the mother for blessing him with such an amazing mate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he kept mumbling, groggy from his week-long slumber and unable to form any other coherent sentences.

You shushed him and cradled his face to your body, peppering his face with kisses wanting to convey how grateful you were for your mate. You stayed there, curled up against him the rest of the night, letting him know how much you loved him, your mate, who had risked his life to make things right.

“I would do it again, for you, I would do anything” he murmured, head tucked in the crook of your neck, before drifting off into sleep again.

#azriel #fairydustblossom #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst

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yyuangss · 4 months

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INAZUMA COMMISSIONS ( DILUC RAGNVINDR )

summary ! in an attempt to give diluc the best present for secret santa, you spend some time to know more about him. though, the dawn winery owner has some unique tastes.

tags ! diluc ragnvindr x fem reader, fluff

word count ! 5.2k

note: hello hello @umgatochamadopercyval !! i got you for the @2023gisecretsanta event 🫶 i got a little carried away so i’m very sorry for the word length 😭 either way, i hope you enjoy it MWAH <3 i had a lot of fun writing this for you !!

When Barbara approached you asking if you’d like to be part of her Secret Santa event, you immediately agreed. She said she was going around inviting people she knew would be interested in participating.

You asked her who else had decided to participate in the event and she named a few others. Lisa, Kaeya, Sucrose, Venti, a few sisters from the Cathedral, Eury, Donna. All people you knew well since they constantly came to Good Hunter and you spoke to them while they waited for their food.

Barbara said she was still asking people to join. So once she had an even number, she’d go down a list and have them pick out a paper to see who their Secret Santa was. Everyone would get a month to find the gifts. Then, the gifts would be revealed at a Christmas party she was working on.

Nearly a week and a half after that, Barbara came rushing over to Good Hunter with a small bag in her hand. She was her usual cheerful self and more now since the Secret Santa event she planned out.

“(Y/N)! Do you have a moment?” Barbara asked, waving and standing near the side of the stall. She had been waiting to see when it would be available. Her smile showed just how excited she was.

“Give a second!” You said, smiling as well. After taking the current order and the customer went to sit down at one of the tables, Barbara approached. She showed off the small brown bag and you knew what she was hinting at. “How many people did you get to join?” You asked, making sure to wipe your hands clean.

“I got thirty people!” She said, holding the bag open. The number made your eyebrows raise. Barbara was very serious about this. You peered inside the bag. Small red and green sheets of paper were mixed together. The amount was smaller than what Barbara had said so you assumed she already went to some of the people.

You reached in, grabbing one of the slips at the bottom of the bag and pulled out a red slip. Barbara closed the bag once you got your person. She made sure the strings on the bag were tight so nothing would fall out.

“Could you check it to make sure you didn’t pull your own name?” She asked. You nodded your head.

“Of course!” You said, opening the slip of paper. You wondered whose name you ended up getting out of the bag. It would make shopping and searching for someone’s gift a fun experience. Hopefully it was Lisa. There were several new books you wanted to get for her and replace a few worn out books in her library. That was until you read the name of the person who would give you the most trouble searching for a gift.

Your smile faded slightly. In black ink, Barbara had written Diluc’s name on your slip. Her star and balloon drawn decorations on the paper made it more exciting than it actually was. Of all thirty people who decided to participate, you were the unlucky one stuck with Diluc. He wasn’t a bad person but you didn’t really know enough about him.

“Nope. Didn’t get my own name.” You said to Barbara, folding the paper in half again.

“Great! Thank you again for joining!” She exclaimed happily. “Remember not to tell anyone and you have a month from now.”

She waved before heading off. She needed to catch the rest of the people and hopefully finish this by the end of the day. As she sped towards the building of the Knights, you stared at her cursive handwriting.

The red haired male came into your mind. What were you going to get Diluc for Christmas? He was a reserved character. You couldn’t name a single thing he liked except grape juice. And there wasn’t anything else that stood out about him that would remind you of him.

For example, if it were Klee, you could have gotten her a new book bag or matching hats for her and Dodoco. Sucrose would be happy to get a new chemistry set. She definitely needed one after breaking a few beakers. Whereas Diluc… Nothing.

You started to think about certain gifts. Candles were a good option if that didn’t scream, ‘I don’t know you’. He never wore accessories. No rings, necklaces, or bracelets. Perhaps he didn’t like them but a hairpin from Liyue would be worth the trip. You let out a frustrated sigh, scratching the back of your head.

Was there anyone who knew what he liked that you could ask them?

Well, there were a few people. Now that you think about it, asking them probably isn’t a good idea either. Donna was off the table. You aren’t sure how far her title as a fan of Diluc’s went. And you also didn’t know if Barbara had asked her to be part of the event. That means Donna would definitely get jealous since you got the person she wanted.

Next was Kaeya. Asking him was fifty—fifty. He was rather sneaky and playful. Definitely the type of person to come up with a lie so you’d gift Diluc something he hated all because Kaeya wanted to mess with him. Or maybe you’d get the lucky half and he would be kind enough to actually say something his brother likes.

Then the people who worked for Diluc were also not a good choice. For one, you didn’t know them well enough to know if they’d keep this a secret. Two, they probably didn’t know Diluc well enough to tell you what he liked or disliked the most.

You were already stressed out, even if you had an entire month. You carefully stuffed the slip of paper into the front pocket of your apron. Thankfully, you were going on your break soon. You tapped your fingers on the countertop as you thought of what to do.

The worst idea yet came to your mind. You were just going to have to ask Diluc himself. You can't blurt out and reveal you got him for the Secret Santa event. Since your conversations with him are very brief, in order to do this, it needs to be in the most discreet manner possible. That way, it won’t make him get suspicious of you.

“Diluc!” He heard his name being called. Instinctively, he looked over at the tavern entrance after passing a customer their drink. He saw you approaching the bar while smiling at him. “How are you?”

“(Y/N).” Diluc gave a curt nod and picked up an empty glass cup. You sat down on a stool, watching him clean the area for you with a wet rag. “It’s good to see you. I’m doing fine. I assume your shift has ended?” He motioned to your uniform. You occasionally came to Angel’s Share when you were off the clock. It was just to relax for a few minutes and socialize before heading home for the day.

“I’m on my break right now.” You said. You scouted the first floor to see who was here. The floor was nearly deserted, only consisting of the tavern’s usual customers. You turned back to Diluc, thinking about the slip with his name on it in your pocket. “What about you? Are you leaving soon?”

“No. I may be here all day.” Diluc said. You needed to make this worth the while. No way were you leaving the city to go all the way to the winery. “Charles wasn’t feeling well.”

He finished wiping down the counter and threw the rag over his shoulder. He didn’t have his coat on since the tavern was relatively warm. The weather outside was getting colder as the days went on.

“What can I get for you?” He asked.

“A berry and mint burst.” It was what you normally got whenever you paid a visit.

As Diluc grabbed one of the glasses to make your drink, you thought this would be a good time to ease into the conversation. He seemed concentrated on making your drink so he probably might not be too responsive. Either way, you needed to try.

“I feel like we don’t talk a lot.” You said, as Diluc poured the light blue liquid into the cup. He let out a confused hum at your statement and set the bottle back down. He stepped away from the counter, searching for the remaining ingredients that belonged in your drink.

“And what do you mean by that?” He sounded as intimidating and serious as he always did.

“We don’t talk a lot.” You said. He carefully pushed your drink in your direction. “I think we’re more acquaintances than friends. Don’t you?” You grabbed your drink in one hand.

Diluc rested on the counter as he narrowed his eyes at you. His gaze seemed to be studying you instead of being mad at something you said. The guy sitting next to you left a few Mora on the countertop and left the tavern. He also left behind two cups to be picked up and cleaned.

“I say the same, yes.” Diluc said, scooping the Mora on the wooden counter.

His responses are repeats of what you say. It makes it feel like he’s simply not interested in having a conversation. Plus, he is always seen with an uninterested expression. His personality is nowhere near Kaeya’s.

Getting Diluc to talk is harder than you thought. At this point, you wanted to be straightforward and admit what you were truly here for.

“What’s your favorite thing about yourself?” You suddenly asked. Too strong of a question. He would figure out what your intentions were by it. Diluc raised an eyebrow as he dried one of the cups with a different rag than the one from earlier.

“What’s my favorite thing about myself?” He repeated your question. He glanced down at the cup before turning around. He sorted it out with the stack of cups used by tavern customers. You heard him say the question again but much lower this time. Eventually, he crossed his arms, staring at the wall before giving his answer. “I love my long, luscious and luxurious red hair.”

“Wait— What?” You sputtered.

“I answered your question. My favorite thing about myself is my hair.” Diluc faced you. He had his normal stoic expression. Was he telling the truth or poorly executing a joke? You squint your eyes. Diluc’s hair was well taken care of. Out of all his features, his hair and the color of it stood out the most. The length of it also suited him. Diluc with short hair was like a nightmare. Maybe because he never wore it in any other style except his ponytail. “Is that not something I can say?”

“No, no,” You said, taking a sip from your drink. The minty taste made your eyes water. “I didn’t expect you to say that. I thought you would have said your eyes. Your hair is really pretty.”

He managed to make his hair look like silk. There had been times you were tempted to touch it. As you put your cup back on the wooden counter, you thought of your next question.

“How do you get your hair to look like that?” You placed your chin on the palm of your hand. Whatever routine he said, you might need to start using it.

“Slime condensate.” Diluc petted the tips of his hair. Your expression changed to one of disbelief. “It needs to be the thick hydro slimes from Inazuma. I like to get them from Watatsumi Island since the area is surrounded by water.”

You had to take some time to process what he said. The infamous Dawn Winery owner put slime in his hair to keep it “luscious” and “luxurious” at all times. You had never heard of anyone putting slime in their hair. You scratched the top of your head. Whenever Diluc said something new about himself, the idea of giving him a gift for this event seemed impossible.

That wasn’t the only time you went to Angel’s Share. You went back for an entire week, trying to pry information out of Diluc. There needed to be one thing he liked and was willing to share with you. The only problem with that was to have him stop talking about his hair.

“I love my hair color. Did you know it’s natural?”

“It’s so hard to keep it this soft. If the slime isn’t from Inazuma, my hair gets all tangled.”

“Cut it? No, I’d never cut it. I’ve been growing it out since I was a child. My father’s hair was exactly like mine.”

You didn’t take him as the narcissist type or the kind of person to be full of himself.

Your last hope at getting him a gift was what he used for his hair. Diluc let you know what the process to get the slime condensate was. He said it is called an extraction. It was harmless to the slimes. In order for this to happen, he or someone else would grab hold of a slime. As this is going on, the other person will begin to pluck out condensate from under the bottom part.

You weren’t going to make it to Inazuma and return to Mondstadt in time for the party.

Sara went with you to find Herta and ask her to send your commission over to Inazuma. She was a little skeptical at how overly specific but she said with enough Mora, someone over there would be willing to take up the challenge.

That was two weeks ago. The party was in a week from now. You started to panic. Did no one take up your commission? You asked Lumine to take an impromptu trip to Liyue and see what items you could find.

She agreed. The Honorary Knight protected you along the way. Thankfully, there weren’t any monsters that attacked you on your trip. Liyue had rarer beauties that cost a lot more. In the end, it was going to be worth it. You found the gift after hours of searching. This was reserved only if the condensate didn’t make it to Mondstadt on time.

“Pardon me,” A tall, unknown man approached since there wasn’t a line. You could tell he was from another region. He had a box underneath his arm. His white, puffy coat covered his entire body. The hood he had on covered the majority of his blue hair. With good reason. The cold weather this year was entirely different. At least you were near the fire. “My name is Kamisato Ayato. I’m looking for a lady by the name of (Y/N). She requested a commission in Inazuma.”

“That’s me.” You said.

“Ah, wonderful. This makes it all the much easier.” He placed the box on top of the counter. The gloves he was currently wearing were white while the inside had a sort of dark purple lining. He removed the hood from over his head, settling his hands on top of the mysterious box. “The person who did your commission told me to be very careful with it. He said he went out of his way to make it the very best.”

“Did you come all this way just to deliver it yourself?” You felt a little guilty but Ayato let out a chuckle.

“No, no. I’m the leader of the Yashiro Commission.” He waved his hand, “I’m in Mondstadt for the holidays. I thought it was a good idea to bring over your commission. That way you wouldn’t have to wait too long.” He patted the box before insisting you take it.

You pulled the box over, noticing how heavy it was.

“Anyway, everything has already been paid for on our end.” Ayato said, adjusting his coat. “I was also told to pass on a message to you. If you had any more… Specific commissions to be done in Inazuma, simply request for Arataki Itto. He’s more than willing to help.”

That must have been the guy who did your commission. You hope to meet him in person one day to thank him over and over for what he did.

“Thank you very much.” You flashed Ayato a smile. He did the same in return, “Enjoy your holidays and your stay in Mondstadt!”

“Thank you,” He bowed his head, “The same goes to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

As soon as Ayato was gone, you decided it was a good idea to open the box. Your jaw dropped at the contents. It was a lot more than you had asked for. Considering what was given, you had definitely underpaid this Itto guy. Either he was a perfectionist or he was extremely reckless.

The jars of slime were actually much bigger than you expected. Maybe you should have been specific on that as well. How many hydro slimes on Watatsumi Island had to undergo an extraction to get all this condensate? Even though Diluc said the extraction process is not harmful for the slimes and they’re constantly growing, you’re starting to feel bad for them.

At least it arrived at a good time before the party. With the slime condensate here, your gift for Diluc was ready. But you had both items. There wasn’t any point in keeping the second gift for yourself. Maybe it would give you a hint on what Diluc likes. Hopefully next year, Donna was the one stuck with him instead of you.

The party was being hosted at Angel’s Share. It was closed for the holiday and with his permission, Diluc allowed Barbara to have the party there. So long as she prepared all the decorations and food. He didn’t mind making the drinks since it would allow him to keep a better eye on Venti.

When you arrived, the ongoing scene was a bit of a mess. Barbara was apologizing profusely to someone. You recognized one of them. Ayato, the man from the other day. He laughed loudly when he noticed Barbara beginning to tear up. Next to him was a girl who had similar features. She chuckled softly when Ayato hugged Barbara and reassured her everything was fine. The girl had to be related to him.

“You’re here.” You heard Diluc’s voice. He had been at the bar but spotted you as soon as you came through the door. His eyes landed on the gift you were holding. “If you’d like, you can leave that over there. Barbara said we’ll open the gifts after eating and once everyone is here.” Diluc motioned to a round table in a corner. Several of the partygoers left their gifts either on the table or on the floor. Some were big, others small. You were curious to find out which one was meant for you.

“Okay, thanks.” You went over to the table and placed the gift next to one that was the same size. You weren’t about to carry that around all night. The glass jars were too heavy for that.

After you put your gift with the rest, you decided to join the rest of the crowd.

You found out that Kamisato Ayato was Diluc’s closest friend. He and his sister, Ayaka, came to Mondstadt to celebrate the holiday with Diluc. Last year, he was the one who went to Inazuma to visit the siblings. Barbara was apologizing because she didn’t know they would be here. And if she did, she’d prepare a gift so that neither would feel left out. They let her know it was an unforeseen event and she had no reason to apologize.

Bennett and Fischl were the last to arrive. Afterwards, Barbara asked everyone to come to the first floor and get their gifts so she could explain the rules. You placed yours underneath your chair. Jean sat next to you, keeping hers on her lap and making small talk about who she guessed you had.

The table in the corner was soon empty. Whoever went first, the person who received the gift would go next. So on and so on until all gifts were exchanged.

Donna decided to start the chain off. For an odd reason, she had two gifts. You all gave each other the same knowing look. One gift was meant for her Secret Santa and the other was obviously meant for Diluc. If anything, you were already aware she had selected a better choice in present for him. Except Barbara didn’t let her give it to him right away and told her to wait until everything was over.

She had Bennett. From Bennett, it went over to Klee. He had gifted the little girl a new backpack and a tiny one for Dodoco. Klee’s gift went to Razor. He might have been the happiest one from the night. Eventually the chain went around to Albedo who had just opened his gift from Lisa.

“For my Secret Santa, I got (Y/N).” Albedo handed you a wrapped box.

It had candy canes all over the paper and a giant bow on the top. You heard some rustling inside. You tore the wrapping paper off the sides. Removing it fully, you opened the box and your eyes widened in astonishment. Albedo had carefully packaged two glass cloches beside each other. They contained flowers sprouting on the inside. He went as far as adding grass to the base and making it seem like a small garden.

“I managed to find a way to preserve cecilias and glaze lilies.” He explained and helped you take one of them out to show everyone else. “I remember you said they’re your favorite flowers. These will never die even if you take the glass off of them. And you won’t need to water them either.”

“Thank you so much, Albedo!” You said, opening up one arm to give him a hug. He reciprocated the action. “And I love how you painted butterflies on the glass domes!”

“Actually, they’re called cloches.” Ayato corrected from across the room, making your attention go from Albedo to him. Ayaka ended up smacking his knee with her fan. The entire room let out a collective laugh at the two siblings bickering.

Your eyes drifted over to Diluc who sat next to the Kamisato siblings. It seemed like he already knew he was going to be next. Both of his hands are on his lap, waiting to get his gift. He was staring at you intently and tapping his gloved hand against his thigh. You set Albedo’s gift next to your chair with extra care.

“My gift is to Diluc.” You said. You slid out the wrapped box from underneath your chair. You had both your hands holding the bottom side of the box. Watching your step, you made your way to the other side of the room where Diluc was.

“Ah, this should be interesting.” Ayato said with a grin on his face. He shifted in his chair, body leaning towards his friend. He seemed more interested in the gift than the person who was receiving it.

“It’s heavy.” You said, nervously. You gently handed it over to Diluc.

“Thank you.” He took it in his arms and placed it on the floor between his feet. Ayato moved his chair closer to get a better view of what your gift to his best friend would be. Diluc waited until you sat back down in your chair. He began to unwrap the ribbon you’d tied around the entire box. He pulled on one edge of the lace, allowing it to unravel on its own.

After that was over, he lifted off the top of the box. You watched anxiously to see his reaction to your gift. When Diluc saw what was inside, a small smirk came on his lips. Meanwhile, Ayato scrunched up his eyebrows at the peculiar choice. He realized what the items were and why exactly your commission had been such a weird request.

Diluc kept the lid on his lap. He crouched over in his chair and pulled out one of the seven items inside.

In his hands, Diluc held a glass jar filled to the top with slime condensate. There wasn't only one in there. You had asked for a minimum of three jars in your commission and sent over enough Mora for their troubles. But, being the nice person he was, Itto decided to get you a total of—

“Six jars of slime condensate.” Diluc held it up in the air as if he was examining it. You started to feel a little embarrassed when he spun it around and showed it off the rest of the crowd. They each side eyed each other, wondering what kind of present that was. You actively avoided their gazes as they questioned your choice. Why did he have to start off with the worst gift? “I’m assuming they come from Watatsumi Island?” He said in a slight teasing tone.

Diluc’s lips twitched upwards when he glanced over at you. He shook the jar a little, the slime bouncing around. It clinked against the other jars as he carefully set it back into the gift box. Next, he moved onto the second gift. Right beside all of the six jars was a dark red jewelry box. It had a geo symbol carved on the top which Diluc knew you got it from Liyue.

He placed it on his lap and cautiously opened it since he wasn’t sure of what was inside. Inside, the box had a black velvety texture. It had two separate sections. Ayato heard his friend let out a small snicker before composing himself and turning it around for the remaining partygoers to see.

“It’s a matching hairbrush and a hair comb.” Diluc said.

Both the brush and comb were designed to be the same. They had been marbleized with red and gold. What stood out the most was the hair comb. The accessory had been made to resemble a phoenix. Its wings were outstretched and the beak pointed upwards. If placed in the hair correctly, it was supposed to give off the illusion the phoenix was flying.

“Oh, how beautiful.” Ayaka silently complimented.

The jewelry box closed with a snap and Diluc set it beside the six jars of slime condensate. He closed the lid of his gift and a wide smile spread on his face. For some reason, you felt like he found this entire situation hilarious.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I’m especially grateful for the slime.” He said. Diluc cleared his throat right after and the smile disappeared. He ended up picking up his gift and announced who his Secret Santa was. “My gift is to Sucrose.”

The remaining gifts were passed around until everyone had opened their gifts. They were all thoughtful and generous.

Everyone loved their gifts and it was perfect for their personalities. Yet, your eyes kept looking over at Diluc’s present. He had to be lying. The party continued as normal. People broke off into their separate groups, ate the remaining leftovers and treats, and played a few games. The gifts, held dear in everyone’s hearts, were forgotten at the moment.

An hour passed and you thought it would be a good time to leave the party. You put your coat on as well as your gloves. Thankfully, you didn’t live too far from the tavern. There should still be a few guards patrolling the city in case of intruders.

“I’m going to be leaving now.” You said to Barbara while holding your gift from Albedo. You wanted to thank him again only to find out he’d left with Klee a long time ago. The little girl was starting to get sleepy and tried to play it off that she wasn’t tired.

“You are? Aw, I wanted you to stay a little longer!” Barbara said. Diluc overheard your conversation and he had already slipped on his red jacket.

“Allow me to walk you home. I insist.” He said, opening the tavern door. Cold air rushed in causing his cheeks and nose to get rosy. “Barbara, if I don’t return soon and everyone has left, don’t worry about cleaning the mess. Head home as well.” He instructed before leaving the tavern right after you.

The door closed. Diluc fixed his jacket as he began following you.

He only had plans to drop you off at your home safely and return to the tavern. You were both walking in silence. You glanced out the corner of your eye. Diluc’s hands were in his pockets. He had a small smile on his face. It was starting to get to you. The smile had the appearance he knew something and purposely refused to tell you what it was. You exhaled loudly, deciding to confront and get it over with. It would be better for him to be honest.

“You didn’t like your gift… Did you?” You asked, stopping in your tracks. You tilted your head to the side and turned to face him.

“I did like my gift. Why would you ask that question?” He answered.

“Why are you smiling like that then?” You nodded your head. It was really in the most innocent and subconscious manner. Diluc didn’t want you to take it the wrong way so it was a good time to come clean. Especially since the hunt for gifts and the party was over. He left his gift in the tavern, right behind the bar counter so no one would find it.

“I have something to admit.” He said.

Oh. Your eyes widened slightly. You took a step back. Donna was going to be mad.

“I lied to you. I don’t actually use slime condensate in my hair.”

Oh. You narrowed your eyes at the man standing in front of you. Scratch that, you were going to be mad. The smile on Diluc’s face grew a lot more visible.

“What?” You finally spoke up. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. I’m not joking.” He shook his head. Your jaw dropped at the confirmation. “I don’t use it. If anyone does, they must be out of their mind to put that in their hair.”

“So you were faking the entire time?!” You shouted. He had led you to believe his hair was his favorite feature and that he cared for it the most. All those times he complained about running low on slime and he might need to find a replacement before getting his new stash from Inazuma. Pure lies he made on the spot. He was so convincing, you thought all he loved in life was slime condensate. “Diluc, you’re such a jerk!” You would have punched him if you weren’t carrying your gift. He grinned briefly at your weak insult.

“Is it my fault you were terrible at hiding you had me for Secret Santa?” He said. He began to walk again and you sped up to join him. You had to be honest. Your attempts were very pitiful when you spoke with Diluc that entire week. It’s much easier to talk with him at the moment than beforehand. “Though, I like your gift more than Donna’s.”

That’s an accomplishment.

“Are you sure six jars were necessary?”

“Leave me alone.”

#꒰ ⚔️┊genshin impact ꒱#gixrsecretsanta2023 #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #diluc ragnvindr fluff #genshin diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnivindr x you

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u3pxx · 4 months

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WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S 2024?!?!

next, you're gonna tell me it's gonna be some made-up year like "2025" next. tch, imagine that.

anyways, whoo! 2023! compared to both 2022 and 2021, i gotta say, my art style took a hard swerve in some direction this year. i mean, look at that klavier from january and that butch kim from just this december! (granted, i heavily referenced the portrait of butch kim but still, i didn't use to paint! mama mia!)

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the way i drew faces has definitely changed, that's what i get for getting into something that's live-action and into smth that has realistically proportioned art lol

OH! OH! HOW COULD I FORGET!!! IT WAS (and still will be) THE YEAR OF THE OLD MAN!! i really learned how to draw aged faces this year! ach fraulein, i have not stopped drawing people in their 40's-50's! i would say "send help" but i'm actually having a lot of fun ASKSKS

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i think a funny thing about these art summaries i've done is that they're mostly ace attorney but then there's just a month where i become a different type of ill LMAO this year it was four months for the price of two new interests!

cheers! here's to 2024!!! hope y'all have a fun art year!!!!

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i'm gonna ramble more below about like, other art things i did this year but i'm gonna put it under 'keep reading' bc this baby is getting way too wordy now WHEEZES

1. FAVORITE THINGS I'VE DRAWN THIS YEAR (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER)

⚖️ mea culpa comic [x]

drawing this one was so time-consuming and ambitious but boy, do i love the end result! i had fun doing the inks for this one but was it a lot! i usually color in lineart and render everything but i had to stop myself from doing it for this one bc man, i'll die asksks

this also has some of my favorite apollos i've drawn, definitely

also! the part about the lineart not being colored and no rendering ended up being a deliberate stylistic choice for this one bc i had like more freedom to do just shadows with inks without it looking too out of place.

💐 my lawfully wedded zine spread [x]

now this one isn't out yet but take my word for when i say that this is one of the most craxy things i've ever drawn for this year, on account of drawing a comic AND group shot all in one!

also literally one of the prettiest things i've rendered this year, lookit that klav...

🎉 aa4 redraw - 2022 anniversary [x]

kind of like my wedding zine piece, group photos are insane, and rendering like uhhh [looks at drawing] 11 CHARACTERS IS ALSO INSANE if i try and draw a group photo again you have to stop me DFGHDJ

🎨 my art fight stuff [x] [x]

was possessed in the month of july or smth bc i pumped out like how many drawings so quickly (before i got burnt out that is pftt)

pace yourselves and don't be like me pls ajshgdghhjk

💥 people park day [x]

my friend told me that it was very obvious i watched across the spiderverse when they saw this FDFGHJD

but yea! this is when i started getting really into like, thought bubbles or just like, panels or drawings within a drawing when coming up with layouts

i still love the colors on this one...

🪩 fem disco portraits

ok so i haven't uploaded these yet but you have to trust me when i say that something was in the water DFGHDJ

who knew that all it took for me to learn how to paint was butches

2. ALSO DID YOU KNOW THAT I SOLD STICKERS THIS YEAR IN OUR UNI'S ART MART?

THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT THAT SCHOOL I SWEAR PFTTT this experience has also awaken the merch beast in me and i need to make more physical things for my brain to be happy, that's just how it be pfttt

hopefully next year i can actually start like a shopee shop or whatever lmao

3. ART FIGHT

i'm actually quite happy i got to participate in art fight this year! very delighted for all the art i've gotten and very fun to have drawn for others too!!

4. ZINES

i got invited and joined so many zines from 2022 continuing to 2023 that i kind of got burnt out from participating for now ngl ASKSKSKS not gonna be joining much this year oopsiessss! (unless i lose self-control [very likely])

5. SCHOOL

i don't actually like a lot of the stuff i draw for art school bc i tend to cram and not have fun pftt <- adhd moment, tragic! but here are some that i actually kind of like lol

6. THAT'S IT!

i think that's it! thanks for reading all the way down here!! o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

#art summary #art summary 2023 #sunnysidedraws #sunnysiderambles

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

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TOUCH || (carmy x f!reader) [request]

Request: Jealous!Carmy

Touch || Carmy x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Content: 18+/Smut/MDNI

Tags: jealousy/possessive!Carmy, hair pulling, established past relationship, oral sex, drinking/intoxication, light angst. (they’re exes who aren’t over each other which makes it spicier).

Note: I barely ever write any jealousy-type things so hopefully this is still fun to read. (ending is opening to interpretation lmao)

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

Jimmy’s wife, Adriana, always threw an extravagant holiday party. (“It’s a Christmas party, honey. Not holiday.” She’d always say whenever you asked about it). You were used to going after your brief time working at The Bear combined with the longer period of dating Carmy. You broke up in November, but Adriana still expected you there.

The risk of seeing Carmy was high, but the risk of pissing off Adriana was higher if you didn’t go.

The wine was expensive, the food plentiful, and the Christmas music blared across the house-wired speakers amidst a thousand conversations happening at once.

Adriana squealed upon seeing you, pulled you in and kissing both your cheeks. She smelled like expensive, heavy perfume. Her earrings sparkled beneath the lights and the diamonds within would cover your rent payment for the next three months.

“Ah! So good to see you, sweetheart.” She patted your cheek with her hand. “You must be starving! Go get some food.”

You slyly checked your wristwatch. You could mingle for an hour and then disappear without hurting anyone’s feelings. You moved through the standing circles of people talking, saying quick hellos to those who recognized you, and hiding your frown whenever they’d ultimately ask “Where’s Carmy? He’s not with you?”

You poured yourself a healthy glass of white wine, took a generous sip, and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I can’t stand these things either.” An unfamiliar voice said beside you. You turned to look and discovered a well-groomed, square-jawed, and olive-skinned man with dark brown eyes smiling at you.

“Is it so obvious?”

“The wine gave you away.” He said while slicking back his shoulder-length, sleek dark hair.

You clicked your tongue then, stuck out your hand with a friendly introduction. It was easy enough to fall into conversation with him. Matteo, as he introduced himself, regaled you with stories of his villa in Sicily and his most recent trip to Barcelona. The wine loosened your tongue and you found yourself relaxing despite the nagging worry that Carmy would show up at any second.

You placed a hand over your chest in mock-astonishment. “You have a dog? And you didn’t bring the dog to the party?”

“He’s a puppy! He would chew all of Adriana’s expensive shoes.” Matteo laughed. “Here, let me show you a picture.” He pulled out his phone and swiped over to an album of an adorable, fluffy white Shih tzu. You leaned closer, your chest pressing into Matteo’s arm, and you cooed – cheeks warm from drinking – at the onslaught of cuteness on the phone screen.

“You gave him a bowtie?!” You giggled.

“He and I like to dress sharp.”

You said, “of course you do.” When you pulled away from his side, no longer hovering over his phone, your eyes naturally lifted to the room and a prickle of awareness buzzed down your skin. Your eyes locked onto tired, doleful blue ones. Carmy stood across the kitchen island with a red plastic plate in his hand. He wore a black button-down dress shirt and the same black jeans you’ve seen him wear at work a hundred times. A thousand emotions filtered through your brain and heart.

You missed him. You weren’t supposed to miss him. Your breakup had been the shittiest, most drawn out bullshit you endured this year. Realistically, you and Carmy were done in October, but he dragged his feet and refused to talk to you about anything that was going on. You ran out of patience, and he ran out of excuses. It was a slow-motion breakup that led to a metaphorical car crash. Two dead, no survivors.

Your lungs slowly deflated like a helium balloon. You put on a brave face and refilled your wineglass with a smile.

“I’m going to get some fresh air.” You returned your gaze to Matteo, “you’re welcome to join me.”

Matteo’s hand settled on your lower back, “I will in a moment. I must talk to that fine gentleman over there.” He pointed to an older man in the dining room. He gave you another brilliant, white smile before slipping through the guests like oil. You avoided looking at Carmy as you left the kitchen and escaped through the glass doors leading to the backyard.

The cold, biting air nipped against your exposed legs and arms. You should’ve grabbed your coat before coming outside in midwinter with only a dress on. But you weren’t going to turn back now. You inhaled each frosted breath and tried to clear your warm, fuzzy head.

You needed to drive home. You couldn’t. All because you overestimated the power of Adriana’s fancy wine on an empty stomach. You sank onto the step and leaned your head against the support pillar by the door. Jimmy’s backyard was dusted in snow like powdered sugar. Or cocaine. You snorted into your wineglass.

The door opened behind you, “new boyfriend?” His voice made a flush of warmth erupt across your skin. Carmy sat beside you, and although nothing of his body touched yours, you felt the heat all the same. You took another courageous gulp of wine. Maybe if you blacked out, you’d stop feeling this way. This ache, and hollowness, and pain that echoed inside your chest. You wanted to claw your heart out and toss it, red and bloody, to the wolves. Coming here was a mistake.

“Maybe.” You retorted acidly.

Carmy scoffed and a puff of cigarette smoke swirled in front of your eyes. You tilted your head back and drained the rest of your glass. The wine burned on the way down and it was the only thing worth feeling.

He asked. “Did you eat anything?”

“No.”

“Seriously?” You nearly smiled at his affronted tone. Even before you were dating, Carmy would ask if you’d eaten, especially before the workday started. He’d tease you that you couldn’t survive off coffee alone and then throw something together or improve leftovers and drop them in front of you with a pointed look. You’d make a big show of taking a bite and being dramatic, saying ‘oh my god, I’m saved! I was famished!’ and he’d laugh and call you an asshole. Your heart burned.

“Mhm.” You rested your chin in your palm and finally glanced over at him, “you gonna lecture me?”

“I might.” He flicked the ashes off his cigarette, “you gonna – um – you gonna ask your new boyfriend for a ride home?”

“I think…” You pursed your lips and tried to remember your conversation with Matteo. “He came here on a yacht? So…no.”

You sighed and shrugged. “I’ll just call an Uber.”

“It’s a holiday. You’ll get fucked on surge rates.” Carmy licked his lips, “I can give you a ride.”

You frowned at him, “why’re you being so nice?” If he noticed how you were slurring your words, he didn’t say anything.

“Because…” His hand settled on your bare knee. It was warm, solid, and familiar. Your body leaned into his, shoulder-to-shoulder, and you drank in the sight of him like a starving apostate. “I’d rather take you home than let that asshole do it.” He said, referring to Matteo. His eyes hardened in the dark, cold light and his exhale puffed with condensation between your mouths.

“Carmy…” You elongated his name in your mouth, tasting each letter, and savoring it. “If I didn’t know any better – I’d say you sounded jealous…”

His hand slid from your knee, up along your thigh, and squeezed. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Such…a gentleman…” You whispered. It was difficult to focus on his face with wine rushing through your veins. You closed your eyes and leaned in – letting your lips brush against his in the lightest, barest touch. Your body ignited like a spark to flame. Carmy’s lips were on yours, urgent and incessant, his hand slipping higher until it was tucked beneath the folds of your dress and at the apex of your thighs. His knuckles stroked against your core. You grabbed his bicep, fingertips digging into the solid, hard muscle and canted your hips against his teasing touch. The bitter cold and the hollowness inside your chest was forgotten. You were alive again, flush with heat and desire, burning as bright as a star in the midwinter sky.

The threat of someone interrupting and breaking the spell loomed over you. You muttered against Carmy’s lips, soft and warm, “will you take me home?”

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

Carmy convinced you to drink water on the ride to your apartment. His exact words were: “If you drink all of this, I’ll make it worthwhile.” But then wouldn’t tell you exactly what he was going to do, teasing you and leaving it a mystery, and fuck—you were a sucker for unanswered questions.

You dropped your keys in the bowl near the door and kicked off your heels. You heard the door shut behind you and started pulling the bobby pins from your hair to loosen it from the up-do you styled for the party.

Carmy grabbed you around the waist and you let out a surprised gasp. You stumbled into him, your back to his chest, and one hand cupped your breast while the other locked around your hips and pinned you to him. You couldn’t even squirm free if you tried.

“You wouldn’t have fucked him.” He said before his lips dragged down the side of your throat in hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your face contorted with confusion. It took you longer than a few seconds to realize who he was even talking about. Matteo was a blip of a memory. A smudge on the windshield of life that would wash away in the next snowstorm.

“How do you know?”

His hand massaged your breast and the silken fabric of your dress rubbed pleasantly against your nipple. His thumb circled the peak of it, until it raised pert beneath his finger, and he pinched it – the sensation only slightly dulled by the fabric. You hissed and struggled in his grasp, your ass snug against the front of his jeans where you could feel the tight straining of his cock.

He said, “I just know.”

You tilted your face toward his and his mouth met yours with a fierce, unusual intensity. The car ride and water helped to sober you up and you were now painfully aware of the stab of longing in your chest. You wished things could be different. You wished he would stay the night. Carmy kissed you like he was trying to prove a point and your knees weakened at the sheer brunt, passion that smoldered through your body. He released you just to turn you around in his grasp. Face-to-face, you could see every emotion etched out across his face. Arousal was easy to see - the brilliant blue of his irises were swallowed by his pupil and the way his lips glistened with saliva. Yet beneath the desire, you could see affection and tenderness in his gaze. This was the same Carmy who picked you up off his couch and tucked you into bed. The same Carmy who wouldn’t hold your hand in public, but who would rest his chin on your shoulder when you took the L together. You pushed down your thoughts.

“You just know?” You mocked while unbuttoning Carmy’s shirt with trembling fingers. You couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. You might’ve slept with…whatever his name was…Matt? Anyway, didn’t matter. You could’ve slept with him was the point. His large, calloused hands pushed your dress up until the fabric bunched around your hips.

His nose bumped into yours, “Mhm.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, but then he moved and dropped to his knees in front of you. He yanked your panties down your legs and let them fall around your ankles before spreading your thighs and burying his face between your legs. Your head fell back and knocked loudly into the wall. You were grateful for the fact that your only neighbor was an elderly couple who went to bed at 7PM and could sleep through a hurricane. Carmy’s tongue licked a stripe across your folds and unraveled a single thread of your composure. Your fingers tangled into his long, soft hair – you always loved his hair – and you gently pulled on it. Carmy hummed, pleased, in response and closed his lips over your swollen, aching clit. You keened, the knot in your chest tightening, and your eyes screwed tight. If you looked at him, you’d shatter, so you kept your eyes closed and focused any available brain power on staying upright.

Carmy moaned, his mouth working over your clit in slow, languid motions and sending pulses of heat through your core. His index finger curled into you until he was knuckle deep, and you cried out, again, gasping his name like it was the only one you knew. Carmy knew which buttons to push, metaphorically and literally, to bring you closer and closer to the edge. Your body responded eagerly to him with reckless abandon. The hot, clenching tightness in your stomach and cunt drove away all other sensation and feelings. You couldn’t be angry with him, or sad, because you were reduced to a singular, primal desire.

Your hips bucked, your hands pulled at the root of his hair, tugging on his scalp, and earning you a pleased grunt from Carmy each time. You learned early on that he enjoyed having his hair pulled and you took advantage of that fact every single time.

“Fuck, fuck, Carmy – don’t’ stop.” You pleaded, “I’m so – close - please, don’t stop – fuck, fuck, fuck – I love you.” Your mind blanked out – complete static and gray – a guttural cry released from your throat, tears pinpricking behind your eyes at the sheer force of your orgasm. You slumped against the wall, your heart hammering, and thighs twitching.

“That’s why.” He murmured, drawing his lips away and biting your inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark. You whined at the additional sensation with the last tremors of your climax fizzling through you. The tip of his nose nuzzled against the fresh mark on your skin, and you blinked down at him. You tried to make sense of his words, but it all sounded like gibberish to you.

“I wouldn’t fuck him…because you…I’m sorry – I’m not following.”

He raised to his feet and held your jaw in his hand, his fingertips firmly pressing into your skin, “because you still love me.”

Your eyes widened and Carmy kissed you once more, slower, and sweeter, with the tang of your orgasm on his tongue. The knot inside your chest stole the breath from your lungs. You tore your face away from Carmy’s, looking off to the side, even as you stood with your bodies pressed together and his hand remained on your chin.

“And I still love you.” He admitted quietly. “I don’t- I don’t want you to be with anyone else. I want you to be with me.”

You swallowed the lump inside your throat and your nostrils flared. Why couldn’t you just fuck and then he could leave in the morning like a normal one-night stand? Why did it have to be complicated? Why did it have to hurt?

“I fucked up, okay? I fucked up.”

You stopped staring at your shoes in the entryway hallway and closed your eyes. “Are you bringing this up only because you saw me sort-of flirting with someone at Jimmy’s tonight?”

“No.”

Carmy’s hand released your chin and stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“Or maybe a little…I don’t know…I just – I don’t want to walk away from this. I’m a complete fucking mess. I know that, okay? But I want to try again – I’ve wanted to start over since you left my apartment that night. I should’ve fucking called. I should’ve knocked on your door the next morning. I should’ve asked then, but I didn’t and I’m asking you now – will you be with me?”

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #HELLO IM BACK

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quixoticall · 2 months

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This Could Get Ugly Track 5: The Beginning of the End

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, smut, oral and fingering f receiving, p in v sex, the Harringtons make an appearance.

a/n: It has been a while my loves! If you've been following me at all, you know I've had a rough month. I really, truly appreciate every single one of you who has reached out and checked in! I appreciate you! This chapter is extra long to make up for lost time and it contains smut. It's my first time writing smut, so hopefully, I did not disappoint.

wc: 11.2K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

APRIL 28th, 1984 PHILADELPHIA , PA—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

If you wanted to be technical about it, the whole thing started with Argyle.

The two of you were backstage, sitting outside the dressing rooms killing time during the opener—some local band that you weren’t previously familiar with.

You had always appreciated Argyle’s ability to be friendly with everyone and float above the tensions, that was the case especially now when things with the others seemed to have fallen apart a little.

You were sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against the wall, as you were running him through some of the songs that had made the preliminary list for the next album and asking for his input while he threw a bouncy ball against the opposite wall. You liked working with Argyle, he was out of the box, creative, and one of the most technically skilled band members. You had been sitting with him for only 30 minutes and he had already made one of your songs infinitely better.

“What’s the move tonight, dude?” he asks you, nonchalantly as you scribbled down some of his suggested changes.

You shrug in response, “I dunno, I might just go home and sleep after this, maybe work on the arrangements for this—” You wave your beat-up notebook in the air, and he scoffs.

“You like never come out with us anymore,” he exclaims, “I miss when we all used to party together, dude. Now you are all dropping like flies and it’s not as fun anymore!”

It was your turn to scoff at him, “Please, I was never the life of the party, Argyle, c’mon.”

“Are you kidding, dude? People would always show up in droves to see you. Plus, you’re like totally fun. Remember when you and Steve did karaoke in Austin and you both got on the bar? That was totally cool.”

You chuckle at the memory and concede, “Yeah, that was pretty fun, but you still have everyone else!”

“Well, you took my dude Eddie too,” he points out without malice.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t come out since St. Louis—keeps saying he’s gonna stay in just in case you want to write with him.”

Of course, this is news to you. You hadn’t taken up Eddie’s offer to write together since he had spurned you in Missouri (and since he starred in a very vivid dream of yours). It wasn’t that you didn’t accept his apology (presented in the form of a ridiculously large flower bouquet) it was that thing would have been far too awkward at this point.

It wasn’t that you had a crush on him necessarily, you were pretty sure that mantle was still taken up by Steve to some extent, it was more that there was an undeniable sexual something between the two of you below the surface that your dreams had made obvious and you didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with him without wanting to rip his clothes off.

Obviously, giving in to your desires was a bad idea for a multitude of reasons but chiefly, because:

a. It would wreak havoc on the band.

b. You were certain Eddie wouldn’t reciprocate your advances.

But then… you had heard what Argyle had said.

“Wait, are you saying Eddie has been hanging out after shows just on the off chance that I may call him?” You confirm incredulously.

Argyle nods in response, “Yeah. Did you put a spell on him or something?”

“No,” you respond wryly, “I’m not that type of witch, I’m the bad kind of witch.”

“Well, you definitely did something to the dude, he’s been obsessing over whether or not you hate him and keeps trying to get me to ask.”

This takes you aback completely. Eddie caring so much what you thought of him that he’d be willing to ask Argyle, of all people to discreetly scope that out seems improbable so you continue to probe.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he obviously thinks you’re pretty and he’s just been waiting around for you to call him up, and he cares a lot about what you think of him, which is weird because last time I checked he kinda hated you—no offense.”

“How do you know all this?” You ask, ignoring the offense.

“He told me, duh.”

“Have you told anyone else this?”

“No one else has asked,” Argyle says plaintively.

“Well, how about we keep all of this between the three of us, then?” You propose.

Before the drummer can confirm, the thundering applause signaling that the opening act had wrapped up cut the conversation off.

Neither of you has the chance to continue the discussion before being rushed onto stage by a harried and high-strung stage manager.

Without knowing, Argyle had invertedly changed the course of everything.

***

EDDIE: We were in Philly. It was a great show—probably one of the best of that tour. The audience was feeling us the opener was sick and we were just gelling for what felt like probably the first time. It was like we were all finally on the same wavelength if that makes sense. No more guessing what the next move was or fighting to keep up. It was like we were finally learning to trust each other.

***

The Philly show was electric, all the elements had come together perfectly. You and Steve were particularly reveling in it. You spent most of the night singing into the same microphone, lips inches from one another, your hand grasping the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair, and eye contact unbreaking. At one point, you were certain by the way he had captured your bottom lip under the meat of his thumb, that he was going to lean in and kiss you on the mouth, a barrier that the two of you had managed to maintain this whole time.

The audience must have had a similar thought by the sounds of their cheers—a sound that seemed to have shaken both you and Steve from whatever spell you had been under because the next thing you know the pressure of his thumb was gone and his eyes were turned away from you and towards the crowd.

The rest of the show was spent similarly—the two of you toeing the line and the audience following your every move. It was easy to get addicted both to the applause and the intimacy.

After the encores were sung and the last bows were taken, though, Steve was back to barely being able to look at you.

The only time his gaze does flit to you, ever-briefly, is when you politely decline Argyle’s invitation to go out after the show.

“Come on dude, you said you would come if I looked at your song,” the drummer gives a half-hearted attempt at bargaining which only makes you giggle.

“I never said that Argyle,” and truly you hadn’t, “I said that I couldn’t go out because I had to make those changes you suggested.”

In response, Argyle begins to boo you, loudly and the others join in eagerly.

You roll your eyes playfully and bid goodbye to Argyle and the rest of the band when you part ways for the night and you notice that other than yourself, Eddie is the only one missing from the boisterous group but you try not to think too much on it.

Your efforts to push all thoughts of Eddie out of your mind seemed to have the opposite effect and it was like the thoughts themselves were digging their heels in and had found your mind to be a welcoming home.

You had made the song changes you had told Argyle you would and even tried to make some progress on your plethora of unfinished songs. As it turned out, you worked slower when you wrote alone.

You knew that as the remaining tour dates dwindled and the band’s return to LA drew closer, you eventually would have to approach Eddie again to write together. It was indisputable that whatever the two of you produced together was almost always better than what you accomplished alone.

How could you possibly approach him when you could barely look at him without dying of mortification? With Steve, at least, you could get some of the sexual energy out on stage, but with Eddie you didn’t have the same luxury and it stayed bottled up.

All of this, along with Argyle’s words from earlier in the evening made focusing nearly impossible and you gave up on writing all together, deciding to call it a night and head to bed. To your chagrin, the better part of the night was spent tossing and turning trying to evict the thoughts and ideas that had begun to formulate in your mind fueled by a lack of sleep, stress and desperation. And suddenly, you had an idea.

Admittedly, it was not a very good idea. It was actually probably a very bad idea. A ruinous idea even. And yet, you found yourself pulling the covers off yourself and stumbling into a pair of slippers, perplexed by your actions. You wondered, as you blearily shuffled down the identical hotel halls why you weren’t trying to talk yourself out of this idea—one that you were certain was going to change everything. Perhaps you were itching for a new thrill. Or maybe you were as selfish as everyone seemed to believe. Maybe it was the poison that had settled in your heart before you were old enough to know better, insisting that there was no other option for you. Or maybe you were giving yourself far too much credit and you were simply horny.

Whatever the reason, it brought you directly to Eddie Munson’s door.

***

EDDIE: I swear I thought I was dreaming when I saw her there, standing outside my door in this tiny pajama top and even tinier short. They had little cherries on them. I remember thinking they were so cute. Her hair was all a mess. I thought that was cute too.

After probably 5 minutes of us standing there in the doorway, I finally got my brain to work enough to invite her in. She seemed nervous at first. Sort of paced around the room, not saying anything for a while and then—I swear to God—she asks, “Do you want to sleep with me?” out of fucking nowhere. If I hadn’t been there myself, I would’ve never believed it. Hell, even telling you now, part of me thinks I made it up.

My brain short-circuited because I couldn’t even respond. I just stared at her with my jaw on the fucking floor, trying to remember what the signs of a stroke were.

***

“Are you serious?” Eddie spits out, voice hoarse with shock at your overly-direct question.

You nod, wordlessly, trying to ignore the panic that has begun to set in.

“Why?” he presses.

You shrug, which he doesn’t find sufficient because he nods along, trying to draw the reasons from you.

“We both like sex,” you explain, clumsily, “and I find you attractive and I think you find me attractive, too—” he nods feverishly at this—“so why not have some fun?”

You try to say this last part enticingly but aren’t sure you pulled it off until you see a flush play itself across his pretty features.

“Why me? Why not Harrington?”

Even though you had anticipated the question, you can’t help but steel yourself as you respond, “Because we like each other enough for it to be fun but not enough for either of us to get attached.”

You watched, with bated breath as the thoughts played out over Eddie’s features and when you see a flash of what could be hurt you entertain for the briefest moment, the idea that maybe someone could get hurt but the thought is pushed away as a lazy grin begins to spread over his face and a newfound cockiness color his features.

Suddenly, he is much closer, and the space between your two bodies draws thin.

“Now?” he asks.

“Yes, now,” you squeak out as he encroaches in on you, fingertips grazing the bare skin on your hips.

You take a step towards him, moving to stand flush against his hip, invitingly and weave a hand through his unruly bed head curls. You want him to know how much you want this—how much you’ve wanted this. It was inevitable really, there had always been a tension between the two of you. Whether it was the hot friction of dislike , the bold spark of creative partnership or the hot embers of sexual tension, the two of you burned for one another just the same.

He leans in for a kiss when your impatience gets the best of you and you rush to meet him halfway.

He tastes like cigarettes and cherries, a taste you revel in as his lips move languidly over yours. Suddenly, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and lightly tugs, and a moan tumbles out of you.

“We can’t tell anyone,” you mutter into the kiss and it goes unacknowledged.

The cold of his rings meets your nipples through the thin fabric of your strappy pajama top and your body arches in response.

The kiss is broken you are left gasping for air. Eddie wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, his tongue tracing over your collarbone hotly.

The straps of your top are shucked of your shoulders and the fabric bunched down towards your middle and a trail of kisses following in its wake.

Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and the hands in your waist guide you down in a fluid motion.

Your eyes flutter as wet kisses are peppered over your breasts.

“Come on princess, let me hear those pretty noises,” Eddie murmurs into your skin, his hot breath covering you in goosebumps.

A heady moan escapes you, almost on command. It would’ve embarrassed you if you still had the decency to care.

A trail of kisses and suddenly Eddie is thumbing at the waistband of your shorts. You nod fervently when his eyes suddenly trail up to find you, but that’s not enough for him.

“Come on, baby,” he teases, “tell me what you want.”

You throw your head back in frustration and want and Eddie takes this lapse in response to run his hand sloppily over your clothed core.

“So wet,” he murmured, “so pretty.”

You let out a desperate laugh at this and his eyes are back on you, expectantly and any resistant you have dissipates.

“Touch me, please,” you sigh, half plea, half demand.

It’s not a hard sell because your shorts and underwear are gone in a flash and cold rings are pulling your thighs wide open.

You reach out towards Eddie’s curls for purchase, gently tugging him closer to your core, hoping he’d get the message.

A moment of clarity cuts through your haze and suddenly you’re pulling him up by his hair, forcing eye contact.

“No one can know,” you insists.

He’s all half-lidded eyes and dazed smile when he’s looking at you.

Leaning in to grab his jaw in your palm, you pull him close. This is important.

“Eddie, no one can know. Promise me,” you repeat again.

He nods in agreement, even though his expression leads you to believe you could’ve asked anything in that moment and he would’ve readily acquiesced.

“No one can know,” he affirms before hitching your body closer with a harsh tug on your thighs and disappearing in between your legs, mouth latching hotly to where you need him the most.

***

EDDIE: We started sleeping together that night. A no strings attached type thing. We had to keep it a secret. She didn’t want to hurt Harrington’s feelings which I understood. He was a good guy and anyone could tell he was head over heels for her.

And she was just… well, I guess she was just afraid. We were kind of the same in that way. Couldn’t hold onto anything without crushing it into dust.

***

MAY 1st, 1984–STATEN ISLAND, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

Eddie’s hands are curled around your thighs, keeping your body balanced on the flimsy tour bus bathroom sink. His silver rings dig into the soft flesh of your thigh in a way that you are certain will leave bruises in their wake.

You have to be quiet, you know that. Even if the rest of the band had taken a quick pit stop between Philly and New York to explore the Staten Island Zoo and the likelihood of them coming back this early was low, it wasn’t non-existent . This left you stifling your own moans into the back of your hand as Eddie rocked into you languidly and delicious.

Your hand moved to steady itself behind you as he lets go of your left thigh and places the pad of his thumb on the soft flesh of your clit, causing you to forget nearly everything.

He seems to anticipate your next move though, because his mouth is quickly on yours, tongue gliding over your bottom lip and effectively keeping you quiet.

The angle of his hips meeting your core and his nimble fingers worked together to bring you closer to your release.

“I can feel it, baby, you’re close aren’t you?”

You nod feverishly, eyes screwed shut, “Yes, so good Eds. I’m gonna cum,” you manage to squeak out.

“C’mon pretty girl, look at me,” Eddie instructs firmly, but you can tell by the strain in his voice that he’s not too far behind, “wanna see you when you cum.”

You force your eyes open and he rewards you by pressing his unoccupied thumb into your bottom lip which you greedily take into your mouth.

Your release washes over you in a wave and you watch moments later as Eddie finds his own.

The two of you are left panting for a few moments as you try to steady yourselves. Once you find your bearings, you lower yourself from the sink and adjust the sundress that was so carelessly shucked to your hips and Eddie busies himself with disposing of the condom discreetly.

Turning to the bathroom mirror, you make an attempt at taming your haphazard hair and fixing your smudged lipstick before making a move for the door.

“Well, that was nice,” you offer before spilling into the tour bus’s common space.

“Wait,” Eddie cries out as he’s still adjusting his belt, “where are you going?”

You shrug nonchalantly in response but don’t turn around, “Back to the girls’ bus.”

“You don’t want to… you don’t want to stick around maybe? We could do some writing?” Eddie sounds out of breath when he asks but you chalk it up to the sex.

“Better not. It might look suspicious,” you explain as you take the stops down from the bus, two at a time.

“Right, wouldn’t want that,” Eddie squeaks out and you smile back at him, grateful for his understanding.

“See you later, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything back, but when you look back after having boarded your own bus, he’s still standing on the bottom step, eyes still on you.

***

EDDIE: Let’s get the record straight about something though, I didn’t steal her away from anyone. She is her own person first of all, not some thing to be stolen. And second of all, she came to me first. Not the other way around. And! She and Harrington weren’t even really seeing each other. So, other than the lying, it truthfully wasn’t that bad.

But then again, does the truth even matter? Especially now? After everything?

INTERVIEWER: It does to me and to you too, I think, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

EDDIE: Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?

***

MAY 3rd, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

It was easy, really, to keep your fling with Eddie a secret from the rest of the band. Most of them were barely paying attention to what you were doing anyway.

Nancy and Jonathan were once again preoccupied with waiting by the phone to hear from Jonathan’s mother, Joyce. Will’s condition had once again worsen and the two were on high alert.

Robin and Steve were busy sightseeing and pointedly only talking to you when necessary. They weren’t hostile, per se, (or at least, Steve wasn’t) but they also made a point to not invite you to their outing. You want to tell them to be wary of the paps since the city is crawling with them in a matter akin to cockroaches but you know better than to try to tell Robin what to do.

Argyle, for his part, is in his own world.

The two of you were essentially in the clear barring rehearsals, shows and any stray public appearance. Still, you couldn’t help but want to take precautions.

***

EDDIE: She would never sleep over. You know, after. She was too worried about what would happen if Steve or anyone else went looking for her.

It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, she—we had made it very clear that this was a purely physical thing but, well, between you and me kid, I always knew it was never gonna be like that. At least not for me. I was in deep for way longer than I had realized.

***

Long, skilled fingers trace patterns along your naked spine. The movements are comforting, calming, you almost find yourself lulled to sleep. Except you know you shouldn’t—that you can’t.

Your eyes flutter open as you fight against the sleep that sets in. This isn’t your bed, you remind yourself, and you feel that in the brush of the sheets against your naked body that definitively do not feel like the sheets of your bed merely a few doors down. It’s a silly thought, truly, these sheets are probably the exact same as the ones on your bed and more so, you haven’t slept in your bed, a bed that is truly, strictly your own in years . Still, this does not feel quite right.

You will your body to stir, working actively against every nerve that is telling you not to move from the warm, comfortable haven you had found and the warm body next to you but you know better. This is a dance you’re familiar with: they ask you to stay but don’t really mean it and if they do it’s only to squeeze another quick fuck in.

“Why don’t you stay?” Eddie grumbles into your shoulder even though both of you already know the answer.

“What if someone comes looking for me, huh?” A question for a question, “it’ll be hard to explain to Hopper why I’m naked in your bed.”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the only ones Hopper doesn’t have to keep tabs on,” Eddie’s only partially playful in saying this.

“I miss my bed,” you rebut, plainly and the guitarist pouts in response.

“This is like the same bed, dude.”

“ ‘Dude’? You’ve been hanging out with Argyle way too much.”

“Whatever,” Eddie dismisses as his hand travels down along your spine to circle around the rise of your hip to the front of your body to pull you closer against his chest and you squeal.

His skilled fingers travel down to the apex of your legs and two of them swipe through your still-wet heat making you jolt. You’re still sensitive from earlier in the night and Eddie is using that to his advantage as he swipes over your clit.

You moan at the contact and your hips canter forward embarrassingly quickly.

“Don’t want to leave now, do you?” Eddie teases as he moves away from your clit to tease your entrance and you mewl in response. Before you know it a pair of lips are attached to your neck and two fingers are slowly, deliciously rocking in and out of your core. A hand moves up to grip Eddie by the hair as you moan.

“Just like that, please keep going.”

You feel Eddie’s length begin to harden against your back as his pace quickens and his thumb circles your clit bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night.

“No fair,” you pant, as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach. “You can’t keep me around by giving me orgasms.”

He laughs at this, full-blown guffaws. “There’s no rule against it,” he says as his tongue slides over the shell of your ear. His fingers curl inside you and you gasp at the sudden pressure before succumbing to the feeling. Your release washes over you, unexpectedly and you cry out.

A few seconds reprieve give you a moment to come back to earth. You sigh contently feeling Eddie’s harden length against the swell of you ass.

It would be impolite to leave him hanging.

***

EDDIE: Not that I could complain about our arrangement.

***

You had fallen asleep. Accidentally, of course, but erroneously still. You realize this far too late as the harsh red numbers of the hotel room alarm clock blare at you angrily: 11:52 AM.

You scramble out of bed, covers flung in the process and you make a grab for your clothes that litter the floor. The sudden, frantic movement had inadvertently awoken the man sleeping next to you and you could hear the sleep in his voice as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Woah, woah where’s the fire, princess?”

“It’s nearly noon!” you respond, panic clear in your voice. “I accidentally fell asleep and now it’s almost noon!”

Your mind is overcome with worst case scenarios and conclusions that are easily jumped to as you imagine how this late morning can turn into your downfall.

Eddie tries valiantly to calm you down to no avail. You had done the one thing you said you never would: you stayed the night and now you didn’t know what to do with that other than panic and rush out the door half dressed and fully angered with yourself throwing a paltry goodbye to a very disoriented Eddie over your shoulder as you did so.

You try to fix your hair in the elevator along with your harried breath. Most of the band wake up late into the day, you try to remind yourself, especially after a night out.

It was not unusual to be walking the halls of your hotel room at this time, but you still felt overwhelmingly nervous walking back to your room in a way that you felt obviously gave away that you were coming back from a night of raunchy sex.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the elevator doors slid open to reveal Steve Harrington waiting outside your door. This is what you were afraid of. Certainly one look at you and he’d know exactly what you were doing and probably with who and that would spell the end of the Downsides, you were sure of it.

You didn’t say anything as you exited the elevator and slowly made your way over, hoping to prolong the moment before everything came crumbling down as much as you could.

A few steps in and you had caught Steve’s attention. When he looked at you though, it wasn’t with anger or disappointment but with nerves.

***

STEVE: My parents moved around a lot after I left home. Indianapolis, Chicago, Phoenix in the winter and Bridgeport in the summer, you know, regular rich folks shit.

It’s not like I could ever go back home but when they heard the band was planning on making the stop they wanted me to visit them and they wanted me to bring my girlfriend to meet them. I hadn’t wanted to ask then, things were kind of awkward between the two of us, but they kept insisting. It’s like they didn’t believe I could’ve bagged a girl like her and they were willing to call me on it. So, I had no other choice but to ask.

***

You understood where Steve was coming from, truly, your own parents were rich and demanding. Plus, something about seeing your fake boyfriend waiting at your door after a night sleeping with someone else really made you susceptible to his request.

And really, there wasn’t a universe where you would say no to a request from Steve Harrington, so of course you were going to meet his parents.

***

MAY 6th, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—30 ROCKEFELLER PLAZA

“So I heard you’re meeting the in-laws,” Eddie plops down in the makeup seat next to you

You’re backstage at The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer, getting ready for one of the few media appearances Hopper had managed to schedule during the band’s short stint in the city.

You can tell by the pinching between Eddie’s eyes and the snarl in his tone that he’s not in a good mood. You chock up his demeanor to the same thing that has dampened yours: the upcoming interview.

The lack of media appearances had been a welcomed change during the band’s time on the road and the adjustment back to them have been rocky. You, for one, are on edge at the idea of having to sit down with the smarmy, sexist, Chris Palmer who, on his late night show, had already taken a few swings at you for laughs and the thought of him having the chance to do so to your face, made you sick.

Which was why you barely responded to Eddie’s attempt t goading you and instead, shrug in response, tightly, “I guess.”

His eyes flit over you and his demeanor shift to one approximating concern. “Hey, you doing okay?” He moves closer, but not enough for it to be noticeable to anyone but you.

“Yeah,” you try to smile but it comes out a grimace, “just out of practice I guess.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I have an extra copy of Baldwin that I brought on accident if you want a distraction,” the book flashes in your periphery and this time your smile comes out genuine and unprompted.

While you can’t be one hundred percent certain, you’re familiar enough with the guitarist’s ways to know that this was no accident—he brought the book with you in mind.

You make a grab for it but have to keep yourself from leaning in for a hug at the risk of the others’ scrutiny and your makeup artist’s ire. Not knowing how else to communicate your appreciation, you give his shirt a quick—and hopefully discreet—tug. He seems to catch your drift because his fingers graze yours purposefully as you move your hand away.

The brief touch shoots electricity through you.

“Thanks,” you murmur before watching him jaunt away to his spot between Argyle and Jonathan, both of your moods seemingly lifted, if only for a moment.

You’re grateful for the distraction although it barely keeps your attention and instead end up thumbing through the pages anxiously to the chagrin of your makeup artist who is clearly relieved to pass you onto hair once the final touches of lipstick are applied.

You thank her profusely before moving next door where, to the surprise of exactly no one, you’re sat next to Steve. Or at least you think it’s Steve you’re sat next to given how little you can see through the thick mass of hairspray clouding the air.

“They don’t call me ‘The Hair’ for nothing, right?” He says when you catch his eye through the fumes.

His hair stylists laughs a little too hard for your taste and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I thought you hated that nickname,” you say, settling into your chair, ready to play your part as the doting girlfriend.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “there are worst things to be called.”

You scoff in response, your previous concerns regarding tonight’s host bubbling up again, “I am sure there are.”

Steve turns to you fully now, offering a charming apology to his stylist that leaves her a giggling puddle, and you can feel his eyes scanning you in assessment.

He suddenly reaches over to the vanity in front of him, “The vending machine in the hall is totally broke, it gave me four candy bars. Do you want one?”

You look over at the bars in his hand which he has fanned evenly and is waving as if they’re a wad of cash and you grab one out of his reach.

“These are my favorite,” you point out as you smooth a hand over the wrapper, remembering all the times you would raid the vending machines at venues or backstage before an interview for them.

“I know,” he says, impishly.

“Harrington, be straight with me, is the machine really broken or did you get me my favorite candy bar just to butter me up?”

He nods, self-satisfied, like a little kid happy to be caught doing something that they’ll know they’ll get away with. Your joint hairstylists coo in adoration at your dotting “boyfriend” and you can’t help but roll your eyes affectionately.

“You seem a bit nervous,” he explains, “and candy usually helps.”

You exhale a laugh at this and admit that he’s right, “candy usually does help,” before nibbling on the bar carefully for the sake of your lipstick.

“So, what’s up?” He asks after a beat, while the hairstylists are preoccupied cleaning their tools, “are you nervous about doing our thing again?”

He says the last part with an overly-dramatic eyebrow waggle and you giggle.

What do you mean?” You ask, avoiding his glance.

He almost rolls his eyes at this but catches himself, knowing better.

“You just seem off, like nervous almost? But not in the usual way you are nervous about interview, but like different. Normally you’re just nervous because you overthink it but now it’s like you’re dreading it.”

You snort at the way he saw right through you.

“It’s stupid but, Chris Palmer has made jokes about me in the past, you know, about my dating history and things like that and I’m not really looking forward to hearing what he has to say tonight,” you explain, bashfully.

“What do you mean? Do you and Chris know each other?”

“No,” you respond, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “he just is, you know, one of those comedians who pokes fun at celebrities and he loves making fun of women who ‘get around’ or whatever and well, that was my reputation before you… and the band.”

You see realization dawn on Steve’s features, it’s almost like he doesn’t believe anyone could ever be mean to you. Realization quickly turns to anger.

“And you think he’ll make fun of you tonight in the same way? In front of everyone?”

You shrug at this, “maybe, he’s not exactly known for taking it easy on his guests, but I’m used to it, it’s annoying though.”

Steve shakes his head aggressively at your dismissal and bolts up from his char, “No, I’m going to go talk to Hopper or something, have him tell Palmer’s people he needs to cool it or we won’t perform.”

He’s marching down the hall now, purposeful and quick. You make a beeline after him running ahead to cut him off.

“Woah, hey, Steve, you do not need to do that.” The last thing you want is the band being labeled as difficult to work with this early on.

Standing in front of him with your hands flat on his chest, you suddenly become very aware of all the eyes peaking out of the different green rooms to watch the exchange curiously, band mates and crew alike.

Steve grabs one of your hands lightly in his and gives it a tepid squeeze.

“I’m sorry but I am not sitting up there tonight and listening to anyone say anything bad about you. That’s just not going to happen, okay? Please trust me, I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll just talk to Hopper and we’ll figure this out. I have your back, remember?”

You study his face as he says this and are caught up in the earnestness etched into every corner of it.

“Okay,” you finally say, softly and back away from his path, “thanks.”

And you watch him go.

***

STEVE: Hopper hadn’t known about the Palmer thing. He wouldn’t have booked us if he did. When I told him, he was pretty peeved and we immediately went to go talk to the stage manager—some smarmy guy whose name I don’t remember.

Told us essentially, that it was no use, that Palmer wrote his own material fresh before each show.

Well, after that, Hopper and I track down Palmer in his dressing room and, you know, we give him a shake down. Old school style. Like back when Hopper was on the force. … he did most of the shaking down, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely going to get in there, but he seemed to really enjoy it. Plus I had just gotten my hair done.

***

When Steve reappears in the green room half an hour later, Hopper is trailing him smiling giddily.

Coming up to your side, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans into your hair to murmur, “We took care of it.” The giant grin Hopper is sporting lets you know that they had and you exhale a sigh of relief, curling a hand against his bicep gratefully.

You spring back a few seconds later when you feel Eddie’s heavy gaze from the spot he occupied next to you, eyes boring into all the places your body is touching Steve’s.

You can sense Steve’s confusion at the lost contact but before anything else can be said or done, the stage manager appears to move escort the band to the sound stage saving you from having to navigate the complex social dynamic of interacting with your fake boyfriend who wants to be your real boyfriend and your band rival turned friend-with-benefits. Gratefully, you allow yourself to believe for the first time, that maybe luck would be on your side and tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

***

NANCY: Do I think Chris Palmer had a personal vendetta against her? No, not going into that night, anyway. I think he was just a misogynistic idiot who didn’t know what to do about a talented and beautiful woman who also did whatever she wanted. His mind couldn’t wrap around that.

That was true for a lot of men back then. And now too.

JONATHAN: It felt like Chris had a personal vendetta against her.

***

The first half of the interview went well enough.

The band was welcomed with great fanfare and everyone filed towards the couches in the center of the stage next to the large mahogany desk Chris sat behind. You and Steve were, of course, together at the forefront and you could hear the collective cooing when he helped you down the platform.

The interview started out mild, questions about the tour and being on the road. Thankfully, Steve took the helm for most of them with the band weighing in throughout.

To your surprise, Chris directs his next question to you and Eddie.

“You two are the newest additions to the band, how has the transition been coming from working as a solo artist and from a band of a whole different genre to the Downsides and what made you want to make the change?”

The question was surprisingly insightful which took you a second to process and come up with an answer that wasn’t “Well, Chris, we were forced to join The Downsides at the risk of our careers ending completely.”

Eddie beats you to it, “The royalty checks are better than they are when you’re in a metal band for one—“ it takes the audience a second to realize this is a joke, but when they do the laugh pays off— “but honestly, I like the stability. What they don’t tell you, kids, is that too much rock and roll can be bad for you.” He says this part directly to the camera with a devilish grin.

“What about you?” Chris turns to you once the laughter subside, “do you miss being a free agent?”

You ignore how pointed that feels and smile in response.

“Not at all, the band has been super welcoming and there’s something really rewarding about working together to make something great happen.”

“Don’t miss your old duet partners at all?” The host needles.

“No, not really. At the risk of sounding cheesy Chris, I think I found my forever duet partner,” you punctuate your response with a pointed smile at Steve.

The audience eats your response up but you can tell that Chris is not ready to let it go. Luckily for you, a well-timed commercial break saves you from further questioning.

When the cameras start rolling once more though and the segment is reintroduced, Chris flashes you a wolfish smile.

“So, does this mean you’ve settled down a bit more, now that you’re a one-duet partner type of gal?”

The question makes your throat run dry because you know that there’s another, much tricker question behind it.

“No, not at all. It’s nice to be a part of something,” you respond placidly.

Chris barely lets you finish before launching into, “well the press sure does miss writing about you! Did you know that, in the last year, you were one of the most mentioned stars on Subrosa, popping up a total of 65 times only rivaled by one Evelyn Hugo in 1967.”

You don’t really know what to say or where this is going but the feeling of dread in your stomach grows.

“In fact,” he continues, “why don’t we play a game that we cooked up with the help of your Subrosa mentions?”

Games were something Chris did with his guests pretty frequently and they varied in execution but in nature there was always something a bit embarrassing to them and tonight was no exception. But instead of going after the band as a whole, this game was targeted specifically at you .

It was a guessing game, “Simple enough,” Chris touted as his assistants bring out giant blown up headshots of various male celebrities, guess which of the men you had been involved with according to the media and which ones you hadn’t been. The joke of course was that you had been linked to all the men whose pictures had been provided.

The looks of shock on your bandmates’ faces perfectly countered the one of self-satisfaction painted on Chris’s smarmy face.

You felt Steve stiffen beside you, leg twitching as if he was getting ready to stand up and leave. Or punch Chris. Before he can, you place a stabilizing leg on his thigh and giving a squeeze. You didn’t want this to diverge into a fight and you refuse to let this vile man make a fool of you on live television.

“Well, this won’t do,” you smirk at Chris. “You only have half of my list out here, Chris! You’re missing quite a few other fellas. I thought you wanted to make this difficult.”

“Oh?” The host is clearly not expecting your response but has no choice to lean in since you clearly have the audience’s attention, “and who could we possibly be missing?”

“The crown prince of Monaco, for starters,” you respond, evenly, “and the entire Harlem Globetrotters ‘83 starting lineup—“ the crowd guffaws at your clear exaggeration, “—and most importantly, this guy,” you reach over to grab Steve’s chin and affectionately squeeze his face. At this, laughter turns into applause and from where you are sitting on the shared couch, you see Chris’s jaw tighten.

“Is there anyone who’s hasn’t made the list?” he cries, trying to turn the joke back on you.

“You, for starters,” you respond playfully, and then add before he can say anything, “but who knows? Maybe this band thing doesn’t work out and in a few years time I’ll become washed up and lower my standards and you and I can give it a shot.”

Before Chris can retort, Steve cuts in with an over-exaggerated, faux-jealous, “what about me?” That kicks off a jokey bit of banter between the three of you that takes the show all the way up to comercial.

***

NANCY: There was a second part to the game.

ROBIN: Yeah, that second thing was just mean. It was essentially the same premise as the first guessing game but instead of guessing different men she had been associated with, it was different nicknames she had been given by the media. They were not very nice names either, “Siren of the Strip”, “Heartbreak of Hollywood”, “Pop Music’s Maneater”, you get the gist.

Of course, like with the last “game” the joke was that it had been all is them.

***

The names had been a surprise. You didn’t know how to react and neither did your bandmates although you’re pretty sure you can feel the heat from Eddie’s glare from the other end of the set.

Still, you kept your cool and immediately admitted that all of them seemed familiar and instead turned the conversation into criticisms of each of the names, which was gaining too many laughs for Chris to try to stop it.

“See this one I don’t like at all,” you say, pointing to Malibu Minx that had been professionally printed on a giant poster board in newspaper font.

“Whys that?” The host asked wolfishly.

“Malibu Minx? Are you serious? Anyone with half a brain knows I’m from the Hills, not Malibu. Honestly, it’s a little insulting.”

“Come on, they can’t be that different,” Chris still plays along, even though your comment did not go where he wanted it to.

“Not at all! The Hills is where all the directors and actors live, Malibu is where divorced dads take their kids during their monthly weekend visits. It’s like, here on the east coast… well, I can’t think of an East Coast equivalent. Chris, help me out, where do you take your kids during your monthly visits?”

***

ROBIN: You should’ve seen his face when she said that.

NANCY: His first divorce had just gone public a few weeks prior. Guess it was still a sore spot. Not that he didn’t deserve it, he did, but he wasn’t used to his guests fighting back like that. The rest of the show was… tense and then after the show ended Palmer lost his cool.

STEVE: Honestly, I wanted to punch the guy since he brought out his stupid little games, but I was willing to leave things as they were that night, especially after she had put Palmer in his place, but we get backstage after the show and he starts yelling at her about having “embarrassed” him or something like he hadn’t essentially called her a bunch of names on live tv. Before any of us could even do anything though, Hopper had him pinned against the wall, saying stuff like “I thought we had come to an agreement about the jokes, Palmer.”

He gave him a good shake down, you know how intimidating Hopper can be. Plus Chris looked like he had never been in a fight in his life so he was shaking in his boots immediately. Security had to come to get Hopper off of him and we were all thrown out after that.

ROBIN: Yeah, we were never asked back after that not that we would’ve gone back.It was a shame for him, really, that 1984 episode of The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer was one of the most viewed episodes in the ten years he was on the air.

***

You return to your hotel room in the early hours of the morning, after having gone for celebratory drinks with Hopper and the rest of the band. Everyone had been thoroughly impressed with the way you had held your own against Chris and even previously-icy Robin seemed impressed and warmed by you.

You hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk to Eddie throughout the night, something about the undecipherable expression he wore most of the night had left you curious and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe hearing your entire history splayed out like that in front of him and the rest of the world had soured you and he no longer wants anything to do with you.

As you’re getting ready for bed, the ringing coming from the hotel phone jolts you.

“Hello?” You breathe out, harried and confused into the handset.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?” Eddie’s concerned question statics over the line.

“No,” you respond, relief coloring your tone, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, really, I was just thinking how hot it was when you told that dickbag off and I was wondering if you’d be up to me showing you that.”

“Showing me what, exactly?”

“Showing you how hot I think you are. If you’re up for it, of course?”

25 minutes later, with Eddie’s face buried messily in your pussy you’re near inching closer to release when you hear him muttering into the soft skin of your thigh while two of his skilled fingers begin pumping in an out of your tight heat.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, seeing you all hot and desperate to come on my fingers like this would make me think you are a minx.”

Hearing him call you that so low and growly, left you burning all over and you keen into his hands. Knowing his words had the intended effect, Eddie smirks into your thigh and speeds up his fingers.

“Only for you,” you respond once you can find your voice again.

Eddie give a low moan at this and in an instant he clamors up onto the bed and moves to replace his fingers with his dick.

“Say that again,” he challenges as he swipes his tip through your folds and you cry out.

“I’m a minx for you,” you nod along to what you’re saying, hoping that it makes him more eager to stop teasing and finally push inside you.

He does exactly as you hoped and pushes his hips into you hungrily, setting a punishing pace, “Only for me right?”

You nod along, fucked out and on the verge of coming agian, “Yes, only for you, Eddie.”

You don’t make it back to your hotel room that night either.

***

MAY 11TH, 1984–BRIDGEPORT, CT—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

“Are you sure the’d still want to meet me?” You ask Steve one evening, brushing your hair standing in the doorway of the door that separated your hotel room from his.

“Yeah, of course! Why do you keep asking that? Wait… do you not want to meet them anymore? It’s okay if you don’t,” Steve is already trying to hide his disappointment.

“No,” you rush to correct as you follow the sound of his voice to the bathroom, “it’s not that at all it’s just that, well with all the Minx stuff in the news, I worry that maybe they won’t think I’m worthy of the Harrington brood or whatever.”

You’re of course referring to the drama that had followed the band’s appearance on the Chris Palmer show where Chris had given an interview to Subrosa after you had affectively embarrassed him on his own show calling the band talentless and you worthy of every bad name that the press could call you and more.

In response to the interview—and partially inspired by your encounter with Eddie following the interview— you had gotten the word ‘Minx’ embroidered on the back of your favorite suede jacket which you made sure to wear to all of your subsequent interviews and media appearances for the rest of the band’s time in New York.

“First of all,” Steve begins, rubbing shaving cream over his chin “neither of my parents would ever dream of reading a gossip magazine and even if they did, they hate Chris Palmer, always said he was too ‘blue’ whatever that means. Plus, historically, dinners with my parents haven’t been the most enjoyable affairs, so having you there would really mean a lot to me.”

You smile understandingly at him through the mirror and suddenly the whole domesticity of it all strikes you. In another life, the two of you could’ve simply been a couple discussing meeting one another’s parents in the bathroom of a shitty apartment the two of you shared.

The fantasy is interrupted abruptly by a bright cacophony of knocks at your door.

“That must be Eddie,” you explained, “he’s coming over to write.”

(He really was.)

With all the fucking the two of you had been doing, writing music had fallen to the wayside and as the end of the tour was insight and Murray’s quota of songs still not met, which meant you had to get writing.

You scramble over to your door and let Eddie in. He almost leans in for a kiss but catches himself when he notices the open door leading into Steve’s room where he is very much watching the interaction with prying eyes.

The two nod at each other in greeting. You linger in the middle between either sides the awkwardness tangible in the air. You look at Eddie’s urging eyes and then flash back to Steve whose puppy dog gaze and newly received information about his parents make you do something that is surprising even to yourself.

“Do you want to help us write, Steve?”

The situation is awkward at first, especially with the glares Eddie seems to shoot you and Steve’s shy insistence that he’s no good at writing music but eventually, after two bottles of wine, the tension subsides, at least a little.

Eddie and you had presented Steve with a few songs that were very close to done but just needed a bit more work on the melody hoping that maybe he had suggestions.

He scans over a song that Eddie had primarily written, “Wild Ride”. Steve had an idea for a rhythm that could match the song and before long, he and Eddie were fully invested, both of them bent over their guitars trying out the rhythm and shooting notes at each other. Arrangement was definitely not your strong suit, however, you were more than happy to watch the two guitarists work

Steve was fascinatingly somber when it came to writing. He would play the notes over and over again until he found what came next, treating the whole thing like a puzzle that needed to be solved and running his hands through his hair when he was particularly stuck on something. His eyes would close while he was thinking, his lashes fluttering on his cheeks and then blinking open prettily when he had finally thought of a solution.

Eddie was much less delicate and would play around with notes, sometimes scrapping what he had all together and starting new. He tucked a pen behind his ear and was constantly scribbling and crossing out. When he focused on playing, his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth a bit.

They worked well together, never talked over each other, and were always willing to listen to what the other had come up with. As Eddie would write notes down in his notebook, Steve would lean in really close, so they were almost cheek to cheek looking down at the paper together. It almost seemed like they’d forgotten you were there and you were too busy refining some lackluster choruses to notice.

Eventually, they hit a wall in their writing and more drinks were ordered through room service, and soon the three of you are sprawled across your bed, drinking French 75s and watching a late night marathon of “Night Court”.

“Hey Harrington, you excited to see your folks soon?” Eddie asks during a comercial break.

You turn to look and see Steve grimace at the question. You know Eddie means well in asking, but the question ruffles Steve nonetheless.

“Not really. We were never really close on account of them sending me away to boarding school when I was eleven and then when we were together my dad’s favorite pastime was criticizing me and my mom’s was drinking,” Steve says, finally, “seeing them once a year is probably the most I can stand, honestly.”

A beat of silence settles over the group before Eddie finally speaks.

“Sorry to hear that man. If it makes you feel better, my folks weren’t exactly parents of the year either,” Eddie responds.

“That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, my uncle took me in. He’s a great guy. What about you, Princess? Were your parents the perfect image of love and support?”

You scoff. “Barely. I went back to their house right before the tour started, to get some of my things, and they thought I was breaking in and called the cops.”

“Well,” Eddie bristles, “looks like being a terrible parent can happen across all tax brackets, huh?”

“Yeah, we kinda got fucked over, a bit,” you say and the other two murmur in agreement.

The three of you stay silent for a bit, processing what had been shared and how to possibly move past such a heavy topic.

It’s Steve who finally breaks the silence, “Do you guys think Dan and Christine will ever get together?”

“Oh, yeah.” “Definitely.”

***

“This restaurant is obscenely nice,” you shift uncomfortable in your chair, taking in the surrounds and the unfamiliar unease of being somewhere where you felt out of place. Of course, you had grown up in fine dining establishments in California, but East Coast wealth seemed like a different beast entirely.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Robin huffs next to you, “but what else can you expect from Stan and Carolyn? They’re obsessed with letting everyone know how rich they are.”

She of course, had the advantage of knowing Steve’s parents after over a decade of friendship and it made sense that Steve, wanting as much of a buffer between himself and his parents during this dinner, had invited her along as well. So far, she had only been a little hostile towards you which was a personal victory.

The two of you spot Steve entering the restaurant at the same time along with two middle-aged companions that, based off resemblance alone, you knew were his parents.

Steve’s father had the same starkly defined chin and nose as his son, but none his face didn’t turn up into a natural smile like his son. He stood stately and stern, eyes surveying the room with little interest. His wife, Steve’s mother, was made up of refined, delicate features offset by the bright eyes that were clearly passed on to her son. Her entire outfit was meticulously perfect in a way that almost seemed artificial.

Steve introduces you with fanfare and pride that you don’t consider yourself worthy of but you smile along anyway and graciously shake Mr. Harrington’s hand and exchange dotted cheek kisses with Mrs. Harrington.

You exchange niceties and think to yourself maybe they won’t be so bad.

“Stan, Carolyn, it’s so nice to see you again,” Robin grits out through a tight smile.

Carolyn pats her on the shoulder in response and says,, “Please dear, call us Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. We’re out in public after all.”

***

ROBIN: Yeah, Carolyn and Stan hated me. It was like they could smell the gay on me. Or the poor. From the moment Steve had invited me over to spend spring break with them in the Hamptons they did not like me. They despised the idea of their son’s best friend being some scholarship kid whose parents were public school teachers. However bad they were to me though, they were far worse to Steve, which is why I ever even bothered going to these lunches. I didn’t want him to have to suffer through them alone.

***

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Harrington drawls as the three of them take their seats at the table, “our idiotic son forgot to bring cash for the valet.” His statement is punctuated by a mirthless laugh and you can tell by the matching expressions on Steve and Robin’s faces and the way Mrs. Harrington makes a grab for the bottle of wine on the table that this level of disparagement is normal for the Harrington household. You remember the comment Steve had made a few nights ago about his father’s favorite pastime

“Don’t worry,” you respond with a smooth smile, “we’re so used to having drivers back in LA—“ a lie “—I can see why Steve forgot about valet. Although, I’m sure you both know what that’s like.”

Mr. Harrington stalled. Everyone at the table—including you—knew that the Harringtons were nowhere near wealthy enough to afford personal drivers but if there was one thing insecure men, like Stan Harrington would never do is admit that they couldn’t afford something.

You were familiar with these types of ego games from your youth, although you took no pleasure in them.

Your youth was spent tucked into your mothers skirts during luncheons and tea and fashion fittings, listening as the women would eviscerate each other with laser-edge precision. If there was anything your mother had taught you was how to sow the seeds of insecurity in someone and although it did not come naturally, you could make an exception for Stan Harrington.

***

ROBIN: It was easy to forget most of the time that she came from money but damn, the way she handled Stan that night made me think that some politician was missing out on having her as their cutthroat third wife. It was like watching an artist paint or someone do sleight of hand magic. He would say something mean about Steve and she would just turn it right back around on him but she would be smiling and batting her eyes the entire time. Even with that though, it wasn’t an easy lunch to get through.

***

“It’s so nice that Stevie was able to make something of himself through his little music,” Carolyn fawns. She means well, for the most part, but the four glasses of wine she’s downed during the last twenty minutes makes her words come out just a tad but demeaning.

Her husband sneers in response, “You say that now, Carolyn, but soon he’ll be back here asking for a spot in the firm.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you giggle in response running a hand alongside Steve’s arm, “the studio wants us recording our second album as soon as we get back and then we’ll be touring again and we’ll need him for that.”

“But darling, you can’t possibly expect to do that for the rest of your life,” Mrs. Harrington sighs, “eventually the two of you will want to settle down and have children, live a normal life.”

“Well, yeah Mom, but that’ll be a long time down the road—“

“Making music is our life, we don’t want to ever stop—“

You and Steve halt your explanation once you realize what the other is saying. The two of you exchange blank, confused looks and it’s not until Robin says, “I’m sure that they’ll decide what their next move is when the time comes. We still have plenty of time.” That the two of you jolt back into the conversation.

“Right,” you add, “plus with the royalties deal we just secured on this new album, we will be pretty stable financially.”

The rest of the lunch is spent fielding Mr. Harrington’s questions about financials and Mrs. Harrington’s questions about grandchildren. It’s exhausting but the three of you come out mostly unscathed.

The five of you part ways outside of the restaurant, and not a moment too soon. The wave of relief that washes over the three of you once the Harringtons have been sent on their way in a taxi is palpable.

You and Robin offer to buy Steve a drink for having survived the lunch and Steve offers to buy the two of you a drink as a thank you for playing roles in that. Soon, one drink each turns into multiple rounds of drinks spent recounting all the agonizing points of the lunch.

This leaves the three of you stumbling into your hotel in the early hours of the evening, completely and utterly drunk. You ride the elevator together, a mess of laughter and then bid goodbye to one another in front of Robin’s door. She’s ready to sleep off the drinking and you do not blame her.

This leaves you and Steve to stumble back to your joint rooms together.

“You know, seeing you today having dinner with my parents and my best friend almost made the whole thing feel real,” Steve says lowly, standing in your doorway.

“Steve don’t,” you plea softly.

“I just don’t get it,” he cries in response, “we would be so good together. We are good together: we have so much in common and we just make sense, everyone thinks so except for you. Just… tell me why wouldn’t you give us a shot?”

You’re in your room now, perched on the edge of the bed , teary eyes focused on everything in the room other than the man who stands in front of you.

“Steve that’s not fair. It’s just never going to work, why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Steve blurts out, “and I know I may not be your first choice, but if you give me a chance I will prove that I’m good enough—“

“Steve, stop please don’t say that, you’re plenty good enough for anyone,” you stand now, to face him.

“Just not you,” he says devastated.

“No, listen, it’s not like that. I just, I don’t know if I can be with someone in the way that you want me to, okay? You want someone to eventually settle down with and I’m not that girl. I’m the fucking Minx for God’s sake not someone’s future wife. In another life maybe, we could’ve made each other very happy, who knows? But in this one, I can’t be what you want.”

The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Steve moves, walking past you to sit in your vanity chair.

“Is there someone else you have feelings for?” He asks, timidly.

“No, no,” you insist. “I told you, I don’t do that.”

He laughs mirthlessly in response, “I think you’re wrong about that. I think you’ll find someone, maybe not now or in a year or in five years, but eventually you will find someone and they will make you want to try and you will love them and I will have to watch you fall in love with them and we will both realize I was just not worth it.”

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

Taglist: @rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter @mystargirl-interlude @brinleighsstuff @thegaysaretired @nothing2-see @harrysvirgogf @Prior-antidote @stardustofyesterday @buckleyverse

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goron-king-darunia · 7 months

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Eggtober 11th 2023

"Wiggly": Flan with Berries

(Clip Studio Paint, Gouache Brush, Dry Gouache Brush, some Pencil brush for detail, and the Circle tool and perspective tool for the plate. 30 colors. Around 1 hour and 30 minutes.)

Speedpaint at the end of the post.

I really should do some one to one studies one of these days. The shine on top was insanely fun to draw and fiddle with as was the shine on the berries, but the shine on the plate syrup is a little funky to me. Need more practice for sure but still happy with how it turned out. There's more here that I like and had fun with than I struggled with.

Hopefully the syrup isn't too sticky for @lady-quen's Breadbugs.

Technically an eggy pudding more than an overt egg, but I think it counts for @quezify's Eggtober. Am I playing a little loose with the rules? Absolutely. But it's either studies of various eggy foods or I'm gonna become bootleg quezify and only draw fried eggs every day. Like, yes, I'm basically the egg understudy because for two years I have drawn an egg a day for an entire month because of Ruben, but, like. I'm not here to stand in a fabulous shadow or step on any fabulous toes. I am here to draw edible egg. That has been my shtick since the first Eggtober. I am of course TRYING to stick to dishes that are well known for eggs being a major ingredient or dishes where the egg element is overtly visible, obviously. So you're probably not going to see a cheesecake here for example. Not for Eggtober, anyway. Cheesecake is much more well known for the cream cheese and the crushed cookie crust.

But, as with last year, you will be getting more than just "Here's a fried Egg." @quezify has that covered for sure. But you will definitely see loads of fried eggs. I still have 2 very nice fried egg ideas in my queue of things to draw, after all. But sometimes you just gotta play around. "Yes, flan is not egg. But it's known for including lots of eggies to get that custard nice and smooth and spongy and bouncy. Cheating every once in a while with a souffle or a flan is allowed because I say so. There's egg in there as a main ingredient. Fight me. XD

In all seriousness, what counts and what doesn't is wibbly anyway. Because, like, mayo is very much an eggy thing. The eggs stabilize the emulsion. Without them the mayo would just be separated oil and acid like vinegar or lemon juice. Hollandaise is also egg for the same reason. But if you add the mayo to a bunch of tuna, well, that gets wibbly right? It's the basis of tuna salad and definitely has egg in it, but the tuna ratio makes it much more tuna than mayo and therefore much more tuna than egg.

Unless you're a purist that think egg must be overt and independent in the dish, in which case fried egg, boiled egg, poached egg, and scrambled egg are about all you can get away with here, with various sauces. Which would be a fun challenge, I guess. But I am much more a form and constitution neutral participant. If it looks like an egg or if it contains significant egg, I am counting that. That's how we do it here on my blog. Categories are just wibbly boxes and I am playing fast and loose with them. Because it's fun. (This isn't really directed at anyone by the way. I'm just an anxious bean and I like to preempt arguments rather than have them.) But yeah, Egg King Ruben said I can draw whatever I want forever, so there. 😝

(Edit, forgot the gosh darn speedpaint again!)

#Eggtober 11 2023 #Eggtober 2023 #Flan #berries #strawberries #raspberries #blueberries #my art #art by GKD

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practicingsmut · 8 months

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Hot To Go!

yunjin x reader, 1.1k words, sorry for going MIA for like a month and a half I've been busy working on my novel that releases next week, hopefully after all that's died down I can work on more fun and pressure-free stuff like this

Working overnight shifts at the 24-hour diner you worked at wouldn’t be so bad if they’d stop sticking you with the outdoor tables. On top of the hot and humid summer night making you feel like a melting candle, the uneven pavement made it ten times harder to move around in the ridiculous roller skates they made the servers wear. Sure they were cute and matched the yellow vintage-looking mini dress that completed the uniform, but you’d rolled your ankles more than once checking on patrons and once you even witnessed your coworker accidentally spill a pitcher of water all over herself as her feet rolled out from under her.

Being a Saturday night with clear skies, you certainly had your work cut out for you for the majority of your shift. Things dropped off significantly around 3 in the morning, and now that it was just past 5am, the diner was nearly empty. You had one more group sitting in your section and with any luck it’d be your last seeing as your shift was over at 6.

Five girls sat around the table enjoying a loud and laughter filled night. They stumbled in around 2am, and it was clear from the way they were dressed that they had come from a fancy party or other similar event. They were all beautiful, but the one sitting closest to the door you used to enter and exit the patio area caught your eye. She wore a sparkly blue strapless dress and you were pretty sure her friends had referred to her as Yunjin.

“Alright, here’s the check you guys asked for. Anything else I can get for you?” you said as you skated back over to their table. You had to make a conscious effort not to stare at Yunjin, though your eyes were drawn to her as she spoke up. Thankfully she was too busy filling out the check to see the way your face reddened as you looked at her.

“No thank you, and here, you can put this on my card.” Her fingers grazed yours as she handed it to you and you could swear that her touch was electric. Still trying to avoid eye contact, you instead looked at her dazzling smile when she looked up at you.

Feeling ridiculous, your shook yourself out of your stupor and assured her that you’d be right back with her card before skating back to the diner door, moving with extra caution to avoid tripping and falling. That would be just your luck - embarrassing yourself royally just because a pretty girl looked at you and touched your hand.

You were only gone a few minutes running the card through the register, but when you returned only Yunjin was at the table; the other four girls were nowhere to be seen.

“Your friends ditch you after you paid for them?” you said, hoping your light hearted tone would make it clear you were joking.

Yunjin looked up from her phone and chuckled. “They’re waiting in the car.”

You nodded and handed her back her card. Even after it was put away in her bag, the both of you seemed to linger a moment, hesitating for some unknown reason. Yunjin was the one to break the silence.

“Would it be forward of me to ask what time your shift ends? And if it’s not too forward… would it be okay for me to come back then?” Even in the low light of the patio you could see her cheeks tinged pink, probably matching your own.

You shook your head as you checked your watch. “I’ve got about half an hour until I can get out of here, and I’d love to see you then.”

“Great,” Yunjin said with a sigh, seeming to have been holding her breath.

With a little half wave she excused herself to go drive her friends home, turning back to look at you for a moment when she reached the end of the patio. It was only once she was out of sight that you let out your breath. The next half an hour could not pass quickly enough.

Luckily for you, no one else came in and you were able to change out of your uniform and clock out from your shift on time - a few minutes early, even. That was how, at precisely 6:15am, you ended up two buildings over in a dark but surprisingly clean alleyway with your pants and underwear around your ankles and Yunjin’s face between your legs.

After what felt like eons of her eating you out like you were the last meal she was ever going to get, Yunjin pulled her mouth away from your cunt. Her lips glistened in the dim light and you were tempted to make a joke about how heavy she was breathing, but all you could do was gasp as her thumb began rubbing small circles on your clit.

“I’m not usually one to ask out a random pretty girl I see, but I’m so glad I did this time,” she whispered. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh.

“You know, I can’t say that I disagree with that.”

And then her tongue was on you again, tracing lines through your folds before teasing your hole with its tip - all the while her thumb was still working its magic on your clit. It only took a few more minutes before you were reaching your climax. You felt bad for how hard your hands were gripped in Yunjin’s hair, but with how tightly your whole body clenched before release you weren’t sure you could stop yourself.

Once you had ridden out your high against her face, Yunjin gently pulled your clothing back up before standing, taking a moment to adjust her dress before looking around a bit.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I’m just looking for something to clean my mouth,” she answered with a sheepish giggle. How she could still be shy after giving you that great of an orgasm, you didn’t know.

“Here, let me get it,” you offered. You pulled her over to you, but instead of using your sleeve to clean her off like she expected, you just pulled her into a kiss. It was odd tasting yourself on someone else’s lips, but you had wanted to kiss her so badly that you didn’t mind.

This time you were both breathing heavily when you pulled apart. You attempted to take a little bit of control in the situation, sliding your hand over the curve of her ass and playing with the hem that had ridden up. Then suddenly all of Yunjin’s weight was pressing you against the wall, her thigh coming up to put pressure against your now clothed but still sensitive core.

“You know, I don’t think I’m quite done with my meal yet,” she started, a sly grin on her face. “Do you think I could take it to go?”

#kpop smut #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader

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belit0 · 10 months

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can you do a yandere madara who’s like closed off and reserved from his wife but eventually she gives up and he’s like oh ur not leaving! omg this sounds dumb asffff

Oh, don't even say this is dumb! If there's an Uchiha I can totally picture as a Yandere, it's definitely Madara, so this was fun!

TW: Yandere! Madara

Pairing: Uchiha Madara / reader

Despite being an arranged marriage, (Y/N) was genuinely excited to be paired with one of the strongest shinobi in the world. It wasn't just his legend she was drawn to, but the beauty this man carried. How could one be so handsome and powerful at the same time?

When the proposal came to her village, her father was quick to respond, unable to turn down the opportunity to marry his firstborn to one of the most influential men in the five nations. To have the Uchiha as allies, more so, as a family, was an opportunity only a fool would turn down.

As soon as the arrangements were made, (Y/N) was sent to their lands to embark on her new destiny, having to live with a man she had never seen in person. Nothing stopped her from keeping positive thoughts, visualizing the wonderful future she would lead with the head of the largest clan in the country.

She was greeted with a warm welcome from the entire village except for Madara.

The man she was supposed to love for eternity simply waved at her from afar, complied with all the formalities, was present at the wedding, and disappeared completely. Not caring if (Y/N) was all alone in an unknown land and far from her family, he chose to keep busy with his duties as leader rather than spend time with her.

He would arrive late at night when she was already asleep, and leave early in the mornings before she woke up, (Y/N) would hopefully bump into him at some point during the day, while walking around the village or socializing with whomever she encountered.

It became a very lonely situation, the opposite of what she thought she would experience being here. She ended up as the pretty doll of the headman, who barely spoke to her.

All her obligations, as her father had instructed her, were fulfilled, and she avoided causing a scene about her situation just so as not to bring conflict to her family. She did not feel comfortable enough with anyone to discuss what was troubling her, having minimal and general contact with the women of the clan, and none with the men, who stayed away from her out of respect for their leader.

It all culminated in chaos when they had to attend her brother-in-law's birthday party. Izuna was celebrating in splendor, throwing a party for everyone in the family at the central house, and not skimping on food or drink. Everyone would celebrate along with him on a magnificent night, full of light, fun, and fire.

(Y/N) was adorned and dressed in luxurious and expensive clothes, things she would have marveled at long ago had she not been going through what she was currently enduring. "Lord Madara sent these to you, Madam (Y/N). He hopes they are to your liking." Reported the maid who was helping her dress and beautify herself.

She had been there for three months, and it was the first gesture the Uchiha had made to her. What infuriated her the most, was the man not even deigning to hand them to her, as if he wanted to avoid her at all costs. Did he hate her? Did he sacrifice himself in marriage as a political move, with no hope of getting anything positive out of the experience? Did he even want her there?

A million questions ran through her mind daily, and receiving that gorgeous attire simply triggered more. (Y/N) could not utter a word on the matter, allowing her maid to help her in silence. She finished getting ready when the night was well advanced, and the birthday boy was supposed to finally announce his presence with a triumphant entrance.

Izuna's orders required Madara to be there watching him play out his scene, and that meant, according to the policy of their marriage, so did she. As appearances and laws demanded, she would sit like a precious puppet, smiling vacantly and interacting with whoever approached her, feigning happiness and gratitude to her husband.

Thus, she spent most of the evening perched next to her husband at the main table, eating and watching as everyone wanted to be near him, trying to generate conversation about even the simplest things.

At some point in the night, when almost everyone was already drunk, Izuna decided to say some special words of appreciation. He called for everyone to gather around him, and requested Madara's presence at his side.

(Y/N) expected him to at least pretend, take her by the hand and invite her to join her in the center of the meeting with his younger brother, but to no avail. The man simply stood and ignored her completely, smiling at Izuna. The crowd cheered for him and everyone applauded, closing the circle as the two brothers hugged and laughed at the night protagonist’s drunken words.

She decided enough was enough. It was one thing to ignore her in private and keep up appearances in public for everyone to trust in their romantic and perfect relationship. It was something else entirely to disregard her in front of everyone, not even validating her presence at his side, not recognizing her as his wife in front of an event as important as someone's birthday in the family.

Shut away and forgotten at the edge of the limelight, she decided that was it. She would sneak off and lock herself in the room they were both supposed to share and write a letter to be sent immediately to her father, in hopes he would understand the situation, and allow her to continue the marriage from afar, from the happiness of her home.

It's not like the Uchiha would care if she was there or not, having scorned and neglected her since her arrival. They probably shared the most eye contact at their wedding, with the man not even bothering to consummate their marriage. Madara avoided getting into bed with her, disappearing into the evening festivities.

(Y/N) slipped away slyly, ignoring the curious glances directed at her. She was almost at the door, when one of her maids called out to her, "Madam (Y/N)! Where are you going in such a hurry? Aren't you enjoying the party?"

Despite the ambient noise, people shouting and laughing, and all the chaos of the celebration, the girl felt a pair of special eyes boring into the back of her head. Meters away and among all the family separating them, Madara was staring intently.

She felt apprehensive about those black orbs, his invasive and violent gaze, and had the urge to run, to hide where he couldn't find her.

Ignoring him, (Y/N) made a successful exit, making her way to the privacy of her chamber. She set to work immediately, looking for paper and ink to write. Halfway through her letter, she heard the sliding bedroom door open, and footsteps approaching her.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing (Y/N)?" The first time her husband had articulated more than two words in a sentence to her. He caught her in the act, making her scratch the paper with an unplanned line of ink.

"So, you know my name, I'm impressed..." She was trying to maintain the appearance of a strong woman, stand up to the man everyone fears, and not be intimidated. Her lucky attempt ended when the Uchiha lifted her by the arm, pushing her away from the desk and slamming her against the wall.

He enclosed her in his arms, leaning dangerously close to her personal space. "You're going to stop acting like a spoiled brat and face the reality of your new life. You're not going anywhere, and if you try to escape, your family's village will be reduced to ashes by my own hands."

He kissed her hard, catching her off guard and forcibly, (Y/N) wasn't sure whether to shift her face or give in, but Madara's momentum left her no choice but to take it and reciprocate. She finally got what she had longed for, but at what cost?

"You don't want me here, you don't desire me as a woman, you don't see me as a wife, you won't even talk to me or look at me!" Her eyes filled with tears, humiliated in front of the man who should love her.

"Things don't work the way you want them because I call the shots, I dictate how everything works. You will be my beautiful wife and you will open your legs when I want you to like the good woman you are, otherwise, I will force them open for you. Fuck, maybe we'll even love each other at some point. Behave yourself, (Y/N)."

With the end of his statement, he lifts her into the air, scooping her up in his arms and tossing her carelessly onto the bed.

"Now, let's finally consummate this marriage, shall we?"

#madara x reader #madara uchiha x reader #uchiha madara x reader #madara #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines #naruto #uchiha clan #naruto x reader #naruto scenarios

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slimeology · 7 months

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I had to find the time to join The Missing Coworkers [ from the lovely @springbon-t-art ] event between my course work and I did hahA!

Thank you for the motivation to pick up and draw something for myself though! Having to brain up an entire card game in like a month is tricky-! [fun entertaining fact is that my guy here is in it hehe >:]]

I wish I could find the time for more but!! STILL!! he's real, Charleston in the goo? flesh? one of those words. I am probably gonna end up putting an unreasonable amount of words below + an extra image so percieve if you like :]

Right right, to start off with the ending question I don't really do favourites, but if I am to give the ending I've 'brain-dead' navigated to on impulse it is the 'Is This A Bucket?' ending.

I cannot explain it, I am simply drawn to it. The questions it poses... If everything is a bucket, and yet not at the same time, what meaning does that hold? I could keep asking vaguely philosophical questions but enough! So I place onto Charleston the knowledge of a bucket identifier.

[hes very really excited about the buckets now. as he should.]

I even have the explaination as for how he's here. So to now ramble on about that -

Charleston is notorious for getting lost, and I figure in a big office building it is painfully easy to get lost. Hence he keeps ending up here of all places. Why? God knows. You ask him how, you surely had to jump off that lift and he says 'no no! I just walked here! I never jumped off a thing!'

And then onwards it only gets more confusing, you ask where he's supposed to be and he 'isn't sure' and you say but everyone's numbered and he goes, 'what numbers? I don't have any numbers.' And then how can you even be sure he works here? Who's to say he hasn't got so unbelieveably lost he's in the complete wrong building?

We'll never know. But hey, he's at least very chatty and friendly and probably nothing to worry about! He belongs, maybe! He'd walk into a meeting he's not a part of, sit down, and just act like this is exactly what his job always was. Was it? Who knows... He doesn't.

Ah well. He bakes good though. He'll hear it's someone's birthday and bam next day or on the date you get good food. That's enough, right?

Hopefully this is done correctly! I can't remember the last time I did some, online thing akin to this, so I do truly hope my rambling is not too long and such!

Have a lovely day, week, month and year! Here's me, Goopy, finally signing off because oh boy it is also late sleepy sleepy zzzz

#the missing coworkers #the stanley parable #bucket #the gooey guy realised...#i would write more but god damn i could go on for 5 years about my favouritististist man #keels over before him and dies because what else would you do??#god i think my tiredness is showing.

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kinglazrus · 9 months

Note

Beep boop hello to you! Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💚

I adore whoever made this ask game. Thank you for sending me one, Lexx! This was so hard to choose, so these aren't in any particular order.

The Moment It Breaks

Description: After months of lies and secrets, it finally happens. His identity is revealed in the worst of ways—in the middle of a ghost fight. Now everyone knows that Tucker Foley is the Tech Hunter

Reason: I made this AU for the Danny Phantom au zine, Reality Trip, and I have had so much fun playing with it. It started as a throwaway wondering "what if Vlad approached Tucker instead of Valerie?" and grew into something huge. I've always adored no one knows aus, and this one takes it a step further. I'll be posting the fic to Ao3 soon, and I've got big plans for the rest of this AU.

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Description: Valerie knows Danny Fenton, everybody does. Youngest of the family, son and heir, future owner of Fenton Works. Notable for all those reasons and infamous for none of them. Where Maddie and Jack are the local quirks, Danny is the tragedy. And, for the next week, he's the Red Huntress' newest client.

Reason: I adore writing Valerie's point of view. She's my favourite character, so it's a bit criminal that I don't have more fics focused on her. I've also used some different narrative techniques in this fic playing with perspective, which has been a lot of fun.

The Punishment Fits the Crime

Description: Ghosts are naturally drawn to death. Danny, however, finds himself drawn to those who have wrongfully died. He always said he would never hurt someone who doesn't deserve it. It's not his fault that he keeps finding people who do. Or: Danny is a vengeful spirit.

Reason: My darkest fic, tonally. I got the idea to turn Danny into a vengeful spirit and immediately decided to push it as far as I could. There's only a couple of chapters up right now, but the tags tell you all you need to know about the direction this fic is going.

The In-Laws

Description: Harriet and her son, Kwan, meet each other's boyfriends through a family dinner. Hopefully, Vlad Masters and Danny Fenton can get along for one meal.

Reason: Because it's fun! This is a very light-hearted, humorous fic, and I had a great time with it. I like to write all kinds of pairings, and this was a great way to explore two I hadn't yet: Vlad and Harriet, and Danny and Kwan. Bad News shippers come get your juice.

Blossoms On Her Tongue

Description: Years after Undergrowth’s attack, Sam’s ghost powers from that day are slowly returning. Sam is excited at first, both at the chance to grow closer with Danny, and the opportunity to use her own powers for good. But things aren’t as great as they seem. After all, plants don't mix well with the cold.

Reason: I can't actually say because that would be a spoiler! But there's a specific dynamic I wanted to explore for the trio and this fic was what came out of it. I've got three parts planned for this series, each one focused on a different member of the trio.

Honourable mentions that I almost picked for this:

The Survivalists (of course)

Prince Before King. Genius Before Fool.

Not Your Danny

Deep Wounds

Dead Man Walking

Until Death Do We Part

#the king answers #lexosaurus #there are more honourable mentions than fics I was allowed to pick #almost tossed one of my YJ fics in there but my blog is just all danny phantom stuff so I resisted

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justkiddingjjk · 3 months

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Hiii your writing is super cute <3 Can I request a mahito x reader scenario where he finds out what tickling is and tries to wreck you, only for him to get pinned and destroyed instead? cute or spicier, whatever you’re comfortable with~~

(Thank you tons! I hope to be able to them some form of justice here and hopefully things only get better bit by bit!)

~Mahito Tickling his S/O~

headcanon|scenario|letter|fake text|drabble

"What are you doing here?" You ask incredulously when you open the door to your favorite familiar face. Just moments ago he said he was halfway across town. How exactly did he get here so fast? Mahito smiled innocently at you. "I took a short cut." You move to the side so he can enter the apartment and get cozy. For the past month or so you'd taken to showing him some of your favorite movies and shows. He knew a lot but still it felt like not much at all. His curiosity couldn't be quenched most of the time so this was a fun way for you two to bond as a couple and for him to dip his toes into pop culture.

You search on the screen for a romantic comedy and he watches happily from the bed, his arms behind his head and a content smile on his face. When you finally settle on the option you press play and waste no time in scurrying to the kitchen to gather a few snacks. Although he doesn't need to eat necessarily, he still finds himself dipping his hands into the chip bag with you. Perhaps it was just that he wanted to mimic your actions like cats tend to do with their owners. He found no pleasure or relief in eating but it was something the two of you could do together in the moment.

About 28 minutes into the movie you noticed a small shift in his behavior. He wasn't any less relaxed, but was instead more focused. He sat up slightly and his pupils dilated as he locked focus with the scene in front of him. You held back your laughter. He often did this when he was logging some sort of new information in his brain for the first time. You noticed when he would try eating something new or even when reading, often pulling the book closer to his eyes and scanning over the page 2 to 3 times in a row. The scene he currently felt drawn to was a simple tickle fight. "Is it painful?" He asks shortly after the scene ends, turning to look at you for an answer. You think for a second before replying. "No, not exactly. Well it could be uncomfortable for some people if you do it especially for too long at a time. It's a weird thing to explain." He slowly nods as he thinks for a second longer. "If it's uncomfy then why do some people do it? Like the two on the screen?" You smile at him and reach up to poke his nose playfully. "Because it's funny haha! As long as you respect your partner's boundaries then it can be a fun thing to do. It doesn't feel good to everyone but it's...well I don't know how to explain. Would you like to see?"

Without warning he pins you to the mattress and scans your eyes for any sign of discomfort. "Mahi, this isn't exactly what I meant when I asked if you wanted to tr-" Again without warning he stopped you in your words and started tickling you. His fingers wiggled probably a million miles an hour and you couldn't seem to get away from them no matter how you tried. He was beyond pleased to hear you laughing for him. So much so that he didn't notice you starting to beg for mercy between your laughter. He only really stopped when he noticed something was wrong and you started choking on your own saliva. Quickly he frowns and lifts you to sit upward, watching intently as you gather your breath. You smile mischievously and pull the exact same move on him. At first you're smiling at the confusion on his face but then you begin laughing at the sound of him laughing as well. His mind formulates reasoning behind the act of tickling and can only settle on synthetic dopamine/joy being force produced by actions of another human being you enjoy the company of. You laugh lightly before pulling him into a hug. "Maybe let's lighten up on the tickle fight for a little while." You both try to catch your breath for a second.

"Ha, I think I may have to agree!" He hugs back tightly.

(I wanted to add some spice so it could be best of both worlds but ended up making it too fluffy. I'm sorry anon!)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #scenarios #mahito #mahito jjk

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corpupine · 1 year

Text

A Long-Awaited Update

I’ve been putting off writing this update for a while now. Not because I’m suffering or struggling at all—life is actually really good! It’s had some truly awful, crappy stuff mixed in, but for the most part my life is very happy. The reason I’ve been putting this off is that I really don’t know where to start. Most of you will have noticed that I stopped posting updates of NemaTale on here sometime last year. There are a couple of reasons for that that I want to explain, then I want to move on to life updates and what’s coming next for NemaTale.

First: Why did I stop posting on Deviantart?

There’s no special reason or controversy here. I post on three sites: Deviantart, Tumblr, and Tapas. Both Tumblr and Tapas offer a scheduling system so that posts can be queued in advance. I was able to schedule posts on those two sites, but Deviantart doesn’t have that function, so each time there was an update I had to go in and manually enter all the information. As my life got more and more hectic (which will be explained a little bit more in the life updates section), I found that I was forgetting to update on Deviantart. I kept on putting it off, figuring I’d get around to it eventually. But uh, whoops—the end of Chapter 4 has been posted everywhere but on Deviantart! I’ll get those last pages up and running soon, but I wanted to offer some sort of explanation before I did so.

(As a side note: I haven't been keeping up with updating the links between pages on Tumblr, for a similar reason. I'll hopefully get those up and going soon so you guys can read the comic more easily on here.)

Second: What’s going on with Corpupine?

So much, you guys. Soooo much, and most of it is—like I said—truly wonderful. I haven’t been posting updates about my life hardly at all, and I want to maintain privacy, but here’s a few fun things I wanted to tell you about:

-Got a big girl job working for a local publishing company (I’m an editor by day and I love it, but it’s very time and energy consuming)

-Helped my wonderful husband self publish a book (that I edited, naturally)

-Moved to a different city

-Finally, finally finished a draft for a novel I’ve been tinkering with for 9 years

Oh, and also, this:

Yes, in what may be the best (accidentally) kept secret ever, I’m a few months away from giving birth to a baby girl. That has been the main reason for my absence online as my husband and I have been preparing for her arrival. This baby has been very much something we have hoped for, and it took longer than we expected to get this far, so we are very happy. We are over the moon excited, a little freaked out, and ready to snuggle her sooo good.

So with that bombshell dropped, let’s talk a little bit more about the stuff you’re all really here for.

What’s next for NemaTale?

Months before I got pregnant, I had already finished Chapter 5. The script for chapter 6 is about 50% written—the broad strokes are there, I just need to nail down the dialogue. Then I started my big-girl job, and life started to get a little out of control. I was incredibly busy all the time with my job, and helping my husband with his book, and I really wanted to start using any free time just to rest and recuperate. I think that was the best choice for me; too much on my plate would have probably led me to have a nervous breakdown, haha. As it is, I’m doing well emotionally, but . . . I haven’t drawn anything since about June of last year. So we’ve got Chapter 5, totally finished and just waiting to be queued up; chapter 6, partially written; aaaaand then a big black void in front of me. (Why does that word feel so . . . familiar?) That should be scary to me, but it’s not. I’ve accomplished a lot, even if I haven’t progressed on the comic. I’m proud of myself and how far I’ve come. But what does that mean for you guys?

Here's the lowdown: I’m giving birth soon. I’m not going to be able to commit to any sort of comic goals in the near future. I’m not even sure what the future of NemaTale looks like, but I do know this: I still love this story. I don’t want to stop creating it, but now’s not the right time for me to be focusing on that. Sometimes life just gets too full to do everything on the list. I just can’t keep this at the top of my list for now.

Chapter 5 is, as I’ve said, completely ready to go (except for the chapter cover, which I haven’t made yet.) So I’m going to put this choice out to you guys. What do you want? Do you want me to go ahead and post chapter 5 over the next few months and then I’ll just see you all when I see you, somewhere down the line? Or do you want me to wait to post chapter 5 until there is also a chapter 6 officially on the way? That could take many, many months, so be aware of that.

I love the interactions I have with all of you. I’d love to keep having them, even if I won’t be able to post new stuff beyond chapter 5 for a while. But I really am okay doing whatever you guys think is best with regards to posting chapter 5. Just let me know in the comments below.

All right, I think that’s everything. I appreciate your patience with me in all this. In the past year, so much has happened. My husband and I have gone on adventures. I turned twenty-five and I’m finally starting to feel more comfortable in my own skin. I tragically lost one dear relative and for a while we thought we were going to lose another one—which, miraculously, we haven’t. Spring is here, and there’s a little girl kicking me in the ribs as I write this. Life is good.

#random nematale update #uhhh...surprise?#tbh i'm not sure how people are going to take this #but i just wanted to get an update out there #i'm happy and thriving and well #just...very busy #<3 you all

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langdhon · 1 year

Text

Aight, I'm going to address this once because unlike Andy, who blocked and moved on from the nasty anons they received on @ravenskeeper for months now [as they reluctantly told me today], I'm still seething. Since the anons were very targeted at our ship, I'm sure this pathetic person at least lurks on my blog. If not following me. You, whoever you are, had no right to spam Andy with shit like 'they'd hold me hostage for the ship', or 'that I shipped with them out of pity'. And you don't even come to me, not once, of course shitting on the female OC instead of the male canon, huh? If you're bitter because you wanted to ship with me but it didn't work out for some reason, it's between me and you. You keep my partners out of this and grow some fcking spine.

Given that cowardice alone, plus the mindset you revealed in those messages, I'm not surprised we don't ship lol Everyone here knows I'm not singleship, I have a handful of ships all of which have their own dynamic. So how is Andy holding me hostage? Do you think I can't be straightforward with not wanting to write things? I definitely am. I'm not afraid of anyone here. But of course you think it's so smart to attack the one you're jealous of, hopefully drive them off tumblr so you can feed into your delusion it'll increase any chances for you. Thing is, I'm usually a very laid back and forgiving person, but I'm also extremely spiteful. On the off chance that Andy had dropped Alice, I'd have kept incorporating her into my portrayal. Michael would still be with her, I'm not above even writing her as NPC in threads if I'd get Andy's permission, just so your sorry ass feels literally haunted by the oh so shitty OC who you think steals your spotlight.

Andy and I vibe. We didn't expect this storyline to evolve in that direction and they assured me that when Alice first expressed her love for Michael, it by no means has to meet reciprocation. They even were excited for the angst a one-sided crush would provide!

And you also claimed it's impossible that one like Alice could get Michael to fall in love with her. Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds, given what kind of character I write? If anything, it's a miracle Michael got someone to love him the way she does! Also shows you only care about dick because I mentioned in my headcanons that he's drawn to broken people, which she is one btw. Not to mention to say such a disgusting thing about a perfectly human, relatable character who is traumatized af and still keeps fighting. You say that people who suffer from the effects of child abuse are unloveable. Whoever you are, you dun fuked up big time.

I won’t ever put that much time into something I don't wholeheartedly love and support. And if you're so mad about Andy allegedly hogging my muse, maybe you should put the effort you put into that hate into stepping up your roleplaying game instead. Andy has absolutely no fault. They're here to have fun. I'm here to have fun, our enthusiasm matches and we dig the longterm, deep shit. Which is rare to find here as is.

You, however, need help. Oh btw, I was the one who inspired Andy to give Alice her own blog; maybe I'm holding them hostage? I'm not, but you wouldn't say that anyway because male canon muse writers can do no wrong ever, right? People like you, who are so obsessed with shipping fantasies that you have to ruin another’s fun, are the reason I got so darn picky.

That's all. I'm just shipping Alice and Michael even harder now, which I didn't know was possible.

#🦂𝙎𝙔𝙈𝙋𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙇 // ava.#idk how to tag this but I had to do this #drama tw #?#I don’t consider it such but since idk who it was I have to toss it in the open sorry #neg /#tbd

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elbarkla · 14 days

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Check it out everyone, 3 years of art progress! And I wrote a guide for beginners! 😊

Hi! I’m Laura, age 31. I’ve always drawn occasionally, but never really stuck with it. Frankly it stressed me out. I’d draw for a month, then cry a bunch, then quit for a couple more years. But this time I turned it into a habit somehow. I’ve been drawing near-daily since Feb ‘21 and my life is better for it. Art’s a huge part of me now; it affects how I spend my time, how I express myself, and how I see the world. I feel like a happier, more complete human being.

So here’s what worked for me. This is a guide for hobbyists (I don’t have commercial ambitions) and it may or may not work for you. But I hope you can learn something from it regardless. Without further ado, my thesis:

~ Laura’s Steps for Drawing A Lot and Hopefully Getting Better ~

1 – Manage Your Health

Know what’s bad for your art? Depression! Glad I got around to treating mine. But for real, if you lack self-confidence you might want to check your mental health. It isn’t the sole factor but it can rapidly overtake the others. Every day I see a post like “how do I improve, every time I try to draw I’m overwhelmed with thoughts I’m bad at everything and a burden to the people around me”. That’s relatable but not a healthy way to see yourself. Low self-esteem can be treated. Please consider talking to someone - you’re a wonderful, lovable person and deserve a happy life.

Also, try to get plenty of sleep and eat regular meals; it helps with everything. Exercise is worth a shot too. Going for walks is good for your mind and body. Yes it’s boring, but boredom gives you space to imagine things.

#2 – Make It Fun

You’re taking this too seriously. Yes, you. It’s just a hobby. Take the pressure off. Have fun.

What does that mean? It means you need to make art approachable. It has to be a comfort hobby you’re naturally drawn to. That means killing all thoughts of what you SHOULD do. If it makes you want to draw, go for it. Anime characters? Pretty ladies? Fanart? Furries? Doodles from imagination? Zentangles? Pencils? Digital? Do it. If drawing the “right way” burns you out, draw things the wrong way instead. You know who draws a lot? Children. You know who doesn’t draw super well? Children. Have that mindset. Draw like a child. Don’t compare yourself to others; just enjoy the process of creating something. You had that ability once and I know you can reacquire it.

Intimidated by an empty sketchbook? Don’t wanna ruin a white page? That’s OK; find something you don’t mind ruining. Grab a half-used notebook and a ballpoint pen. You EXPECT those to look horrendous. If you can have fun filling that notebook, you can have fun drawing regularly, and if you draw regularly you can slowly improve your art. It happened to me. I went from rarely drawing to wanting to do it every day. I still sketch in ballpoint now; it’s fun and comfortable.

Also, if drawing’s NOT fun? That’s OK too! There’s loads of ways to express creativity; go do do one of those. For me it was The Sims 3, then knitting, then drawing. Find something accessible and build your confidence up. The world needs bonsai trees and Minecraft castles just as much as drawings. <3

#3 – Seek Instruction

You’ve made drawing a habit, congratulations! You’ve probably learned heaps already; it’s natural to work out techniques as you go. But deducing art wisdom from scratch isn’t super efficient. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel when you can learn so much from others.

You can do a paid course (great way to meet people), but you don’t have to. All the information’s free on the internet! Teachers will cover the same things in different ways or from different perspectives. There’s no exclusive knowledge; the more you study, the more overlap you’ll notice. It all comes together for a more complete understanding of fundamental concepts.

Here’s some of my favourite resources (currently all available free online)(except the Winslow one which was taken down, boo):

r/artfundamentals, ie. drawabox.com . A great starter course on how to hold a pen, draw lines, build forms and so on. You can follow structured lessons or just practice whatever you need to.

How to Draw: Drawing and Sketching Objects and Environments from Your Imagination, by Scott Robertson. This book’s the gold standard on perspective and great for technical thinkers. It gets VERY advanced but there’s basic stuff to learn from as well. If the textbook intimidates you, try this excellent video playlist by Dan Beardshaw. He walks you through the same concepts in a simple approachable manner. Vital information if you want your work to look 3D.

anything by Andrew Loomis. He’s an icon for a reason; the Loomis head is a standard art tool to this day. I also enjoy the anachronistic career advice (“all advertisers will pay for a well-drawn head” or whatever it was). Here’s the ones I’ve read and enjoyed:

Fun with a Pencil

Figure Drawing for All It’s Worth

Drawing The Head and Hands

Creative Illustration (my current fave, great for composition)

Classic Human Anatomy in Motion, by Valerie L. Winslow. Hot take – people who say “learn anatomy” to beginners are idiots. SO MANY fundamentals come before anatomy if you wanna draw good-looking characters. You’ll get better results studying proportion, form, gesture, shapes and composition first. But if/when you want to learn bones and muscles, this is the book for you! It’s probably overkill, but I loved the breakdown of facial muscles and how they create expression. Top-tier reaction image material.

Proko!! Fabulous Youtube channel. Not only is Stan a great teacher, he invites on other artists too. Just go to his search bar and plug in a keyword; you’ll always find something helpful. I recommend his channel if you want to draw humans (loads of gesture, forms, proportion, anatomy etc.), but there’s a video or two on everything. Some of my other favourite videos:

Mind-Blowing Realistic Shading Tricks. Simple effective intro to light and shadow, I still go back and learn from it.

How to Draw Dynamic Shapes – FORCE Series Part 3. So compelling I bought the book afterwards. Blew my mind, instantly improved all my shapes and in turn my composition and gesture.

Painting Skin Tones and How Light Affects Color. Marco Bucci’s a genius with colours, he explains value and saturation in such fascinating ways.

Digital Shape Carving with Scott Flanders – good companion to the shading video above, teaches dramatic silhouettes and cel-shading within a really interesting workflow.

Google. Any question. Throw it in. Someone’s made a video or reddit post about it. You’d be surprised! I swear, the number of times I’ve typed “composition tips” or “digital watercolour clip studio paint” or “how draw horse head”.

Remember, take it easy. Don’t burn yourself out. Back off if you feel the tears creeping in. Study should supplement your drawings, not replace them. If in doubt, revert to step 2 – “bad” art is better than no art.

4– Study Life

If you did step 3 you’re way ahead of me on this one. USE REFERENCES. Draw things from photos (or real life if possible). Fill your brain with visual information. Here’s a thread I made for sharing references of humans.

What if you prefer to draw from imagination? That’s fine – try a hybrid approach. Doodle whatever comes to you, then look up references and try again. For example I’ll doodle a bear, then draw from photos of bears, then doodle new bears using the things I learned. It’s fun and also a good way to test your knowledge. You may also enjoy combining different references; eg drawing animal fusions, combining poses with an outfits etc. It gets easier to do the more you practice.

Between art pieces I keep a balance between drawing from imagination, drawing from reference, following art lessons, and studying other artists. Speaking of which –

5 – Study Art

Ever heard “Don’t draw anime until you’ve learned anatomy?” or “Learn the rules before you break them?” I strongly disagree with both of those statements. Fundamentals are great but there’s never a point you stop learning them, and studying life won’t teach you how to stylise. That’s why you also need to learn from your favourite artworks. This gets easier/more efficient as you build your broader art skills, but you can learn styles at any point of your art journey (see – step 2). In fact, it makes study more enjoyable, since stylised art can look better and feel more “you”. You already know what you want to create– why not start now?

Let’s take anime as an example. That’s a huge genre with loads of variation. So, what’s your personal taste? Round and cute, or sharp and serious? Choose your favourite shows and study how they do it. Observe their lines, shapes and proportions. Then try it yourself. Make fanart. Not only is replication good art practice in general, it’ll teach you a bunch of new tricks. For original work, pull from loads of sources, the more diverse the better. Work in your love for Silver Age comics or medieval tapestries or German expressionism. The more places you learn from, the more unique and personal your style will be. Your art becomes a visual scrapbook of all the artists you love. I think that’s beautiful. <3

6 – Find Community

Art friends! Best thing ever. You can bond over your shared obsession, commiserate over tough parts, and learn about art together. A lot of my drawings are in-jokes exchanged with my BFF. I’ve known them from childhood (lucky) but apparently adults can make friends too. Fandom spaces are great for this; many Discord channels have a dedicated artists’ zone. You can also try r/sketchdaily or challenges like Mermay/Inktober if you want a sense of community.

If you don’t have art friends (yet), that’s OK; parasocial works too! I like watching “Draw With Me” content on Youtube. It’s great to put on while you’re creating, especially when you don’t have the energy for something educational. Not only is it inspiring, you can learn tips and tricks along the way. And of course, you can never go wrong with Bob Ross.

7 – Be Interesting

The very first step was to manage your health. In a way, we’ve looped back to the beginning. Because no matter what you do, art begins and ends with who you are. You can practice fundamentals 12 hours a day but if you never live your life, you’ll never make interesting art. No one cares for artists whose only character trait is how hard they grind. So go be the most vibrant version of yourself. Take up weird hobbies. Make weird friends. Seek new experiences. Question the beliefs you grew up with. Read books for a while instead of drawing. Develop your principles. Embrace what makes you different. Survive the worst year of your life somehow. Learn what makes you thrive. Your art won’t be for everyone. But it WILL mean the world to some. And to me, that’s the whole point of doing this. Good luck, fellow artist. The world is your adventure yet to come. I believe in you. <3

#art progress #art tips #art tutorial #art resources #art guide #artists on tumblr #elbarklaart

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thegoldenshi-shi · 10 months

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Hello Shi-Shi. I recognize it’s been..quite awhile since I’ve spoken, I’ve been really busy and now I just have to few moments to relax and wind down until tomorrow. I am still not done everything and still am quite busy with lifeguarding lessons, tests, presentations and exams next week, but I should be free soon! Hopefully. I’ve gotten a job so that should take up some of my time as well as well as Softball provincials soon, but I’m hoping to soon have some stress free time. I hope you’ve been well!

Besides that, the characters from your Strawberry Tofu look really interesting as well! Especially the one of the far right, he looks quite serious, just like Prowl or Sunstreaker usually do so that’s probably why I was drawn to him, which is fun.

I have also saw your wip for the To Be Gentle Zine on Discord! It looks really well done, and I love the details in it, especially the glowing butterfly. Mine is still uncompleted, as I haven’t found the time to continue working on it, but it’s coming along slowly but surely.

Also really love the little comic you made! I am unsure who the characters are, but they seem really interesting (and pretty, of course. Especially in your art style.) I have been watching your page as a quiet viewer, but just know I do really love your art and all that you make and I’m sure everyone else does too, Shi-Shi.

I missed making little notes to you, so I’ll try and make more instead of not making one for around a month, but I’m not sure if I can, but I will definitely try as I miss talking to you. I hope you are doing well again, and that you have a wonderful day/night, I will talk again soon.

-Meister :)

Hello there Meister! Nice to hear from you again~

It sounds like you've been keeping busy, that list looks kind of intimidating. I'll also hope that you get personal time to destress and relax when you need to. But hey, a job and Softball provincials coming up? That's exiting! Good for you~

I'm glad you found my oni-lords interesting. It takes so long to design unique characters, and Umi (the one on the far right) is probably one of my favorites of the five ^J^.

I didn't know you were in the To Be Gentle Zine! One of my anons has crept up on me again hehe. The devil is in the details on that picture, they took both no effort and all the effort at the same time. The little glowing butterfly is actually kind of a personal touch for me. I had a really close friend who used to call me leptiru moj, which means "butterfly". So it's a tiny self-insert (a little cringey, but I thought it was appropriate to show my appreciation)

I wish you good luck and smooth sailing on your own zine piece~

As far as the comic goes...I'm not gonna lie, I've been sitting on the tiny twisted wonderland comic for an age. I don't really like some parts of it, but I'm glad to hear that you do~ It's easy to forget that everyone sees things differently.

I'm always touched by the kindness of your asks, thank you very much for sending them in. I enjoy our little back-and-forth conversations as well. It seems like having a pen pal. I hope you have a lovely day/night Meister~

#Meister anon #anon ask #always lovely to hear from you #i'm doing a happy dance that you liked Umi #twisted wonderland #strawberry tofu #Ikari Umi #to be gentle zine

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