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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 3 years

Text

Toned Down (Harley Quinn X Fem!Reader X Avengers)

Characters: Harley Quinn X Fem!Reader X Avengers

Universe: Marvel, Avengers, DC, Batman

Warnings: Drinking

Request: Hi! Can I request harley quinn x fem reader (I imagine harley from Birds of Prey) and reader is a member of the Avengers and is going to introduce her girlfriend to the team?

“How do I look?” Harley asked, giving you a little twirl of her outfit, arms outstretched, a rather proud smile on her face. You turned around to look at her, looking her up and down, honestly in awe… “What do you think?” She asked.

“You look amazing but it’s not very… you. It’s pretty tame.” You noticed, not that it was hard to not notice. Everything about her style for the day was still bright colour and crazy, but still… it was only hints of Harley, not Harley. She had a bright multicoloured cropped jacket on, ‘Qiunn’ painted onto the back, the dot in the I being a heart, several patches on the sleeves and badges and pins on the front. However, compared to what you called her ‘confetti coat’, it was pretty normal, especially when she combined it with black shorts and a rather simple shirt underneath. Even her makeup seemed pretty normal- her eyeshadow matched on each eye, for gods sake!

“I know, but it’s the first time I’m meeting your family, and I guess this is my version of wearing something formal to meet them. Keep it tame and then when they’re used to me, I bring out the big guns!” She told you, grabbing her bag before wrapped her arm around yours, both of you leaving her apartment.

“You don’t have to dull yourself down for them, you know. I’ve already told them all about you, the last thing I’d want is for them to be disappointed and think I was exaggerating.” You joked lightly with her.

“Well imagine their surprise the next time I meet them and I bring Bruce!” She told you, making you chuckle and imagine the reactions it would get. You were admittedly a bit nervous to introduce her to the team, and you knew you had every right to be. The people you were about to introduce her to were no other than you coworkers, the Avengers.

You’d actually met Harley before you became an Avenger, though back then you were merely aquaintances, but in that first short meeting you made quite an impact on each other. You had been doing vigilante work, sort of building up a portfolio to show SHIELD as to why they should put you on the team, and during this time you crossed paths with Harley, who pissed off the wrong people, and who were trying to kill her. It was extremely unbalanced, her against nearly 20 men, and seeing the situation and after gathering as much information as you could from the taunting and remarks and threats, you decided to help Harley. When it was all over, she shook your hand, introducing herself properly, and said she owed you. She paid you back by putting in an anonymous tip to SHIELD talking about how you saved her life from 20 armed men. Needless to say, you got the job. After a while of just being friends, you realised you liked her maybe a bit more than that, and you were honest with her, and you were happy you were. Now your crazy friend was your crazy girlfriend, and you loved her to death.

You were also extremely protective of her.

You knew she could look after herself. She always found herself in insane situations and would get out of them herself and then tell you about it after the fact when you got home from work. It was more you were protective because of the Avengers, who had become a sort of second family to you. You had kept your relationship on the low for a few months around them, until Natasha tried to play cupid, in which you quickly had to inform her you had a girlfriend, Tony overheard, and it wasn’t long until the entire team started trying to pull information about her from you. So far you kept it to the basics- her name was Harley, she was blonde, she had an amazing if sometimes dark sense of humour, and she was the life of the party and attracted trouble with her personality and fashion sense, and they’d know it was her from miles away, but she was loyal, kind and caring, and she always knew how to make you laugh and feel better, especially when you were actually sick since you had a doctorate! However, they’d been trying to get pictures or to even meet her for a while now, and finally you gave in, and asked Harley if she wanted to come with you to a casual party being hosted by Tony that week. The only reason it was casual instead of formal was because you told Tony formal wasn’t her style and she’d quickly switch things up.

You eventually arrived at the tower, your girlfriend squealing with excitement as you walked into the elevator, the doors shutting automatically and going up to the top floors. “I hope you know I’m gonna befriend the assassin and witch, and then us four can go have nights on the town.” She informed you, making you chuckle. The doors opened, showing a bustling room full of guests, and as Harley pulled you into the room, you spotted some familiar faces.

“Hey, Natasha’s over there, want to go get drinks?” You asked her, pointing to the bar where Natasha was serving drinks, and Harley grinned at you, before literally skipping over to the bar, you following behind as she lent on the bar.

“Hi! Nice to meet ya! I’m Harley, I’m Y/N’s girlfriend! You must be Natasha!” Harley introduced herself, offering a hand to shake, which Natasha took despite clearly being taken aback by how to the point Harley had been.

“Nice to meet you.” Natasha welcomed. “Want a drink?” She asked the two of you.

“How about a shot to start the night?” Harley asked you.

“Oh, you're getting me in trouble later, huh?” You commented in response, making her giggle as Natasha prepared the glasses and poured them, and you noticed she’d poured one for herself as well. She glanced behind you, before getting out even more glasses, and you turned seeing Steve and Thor walking over, and you gave a small wave to them. “Hey babe, I’ve found your drinking competition for tonight.” You commented to Harley, who turned, gasping excitedly at the sight of them.

“You must be Harley, nice to meet you.” Steve introduced himself to her. “Is Nat being nice?” He asked her.

“Oh I already know we’re gonna be best friends.” Harley told him, handing him and Thor a shot, before she quickly downed her drink without even flinching. “Where’s the other one you told me about?” Harley asked you, and you looked around, spotting Wanda talking with Clint, and pointed to her. Harley gave you a cheeky grin before skipping off to go make a new friend.

“Was that your girlfriend?” Tony asked coming over to the bar as well, watching as Harley reached Wanda, loudly introducing herself before plopping down in the seat next to her. “You weren’t kidding about her being eccentric.”

“Oh trust me, she’s behaving. Wait until she gets 10 shots into her, then the real show will start.” You commented, leaning on the bar. “She will also convince some of you to join in- Nat, watch out, she’s got her eye on you and Wanda mostly, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“She doesn’t seem that bad. She seems rather tame compared to how you spoke about her.” Thor commented in disbelief, making you laugh.

“Oh, my dear Thor, she’s done that on purpose. She’s already planning to turn it up to 10 the next time you meet her by bringing along her pet Hyena that’s got the same name as Banner.”

“I’m sorry, she has what?!” Tony asked in disbelief as you smiled, turning to Natasha and taking the shot she had yet to drink, and took it yourself. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @klanceiscannon14 @waywardemo @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort @abbybills22-blog @waywardemo @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lena-stan-xavier @lady-of-lies @sebstanismylife @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible

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charliedawn · 3 years

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Mission Rescuing

You've come to uncle Norman for advice and he is more than willing to help. However, he is shocked by your request and is quick to refuse.

" Absolutely not ! I'm not going to kill you !"

He shakes his head categorically and you try to comfort him by putting your hand on his forearm reassuringly.

" Calm down, Norman. I don't want you to really kill me. I just want you to pretend."

He frowns in incomprehension before repeating, dumbfounded.

" P..Pretend ?"

You chuckle.

" Yes. From what we know, these individuals are interested in the slashers, and you are the original. The first one. The only reason they haven't find you yet is because you've not committed any murders for more than 15 years..As far as anyone is concerned, you're a legend. But, if you pretend having come back to your bloody ways, they'll contact you or attempt to kidnap you as well and this is when we'll catch them and find their hideout..So, can you help me, please ?"

He bites his lower lip nervously..He wants to admit that it won't be necessary, as he's already killed someone, more importantly your awful ex..but he's scared of facing your disappointment. More than anything. He finally decides to pretend thinking about it before accepting.

" Well..I'm not really busy at the moment. I'm sure I can make some time to help my little monster.."

You smile widely and wrap your arms around him happily while Norman feels the weight of his secret weighting heavily upon his conscience. He's not feeling guilty for the little sh*t's death. Goodness no. But lying to you ? That is the hardest thing he's ever done. You both get out where number 3 is waiting for you.

" Uncle Norman, meet the witness. Allison Hargreeves. Number 3. She is going to report your crime to the police that will, hopefully, report to whoever kidnapped the others.."

Norman smiles before extending his hand towards Allison in greeting.

" Nice to meet you."

Allison smiles in return before nodding and shaking his hand.

" Same."

" Well..If everyone is ready. It's time."

Norman nods before returning inside the house, followed by you. He gets out his old knife, drenched in dry blood and you then start screaming at the top of your lungs for everyone in the motel to hear. You cover yourself in fake blood and wait for the rest of the customers to arrive. As expected, all of them do not dare approach with Norman still in the room, but some recognize you from the many times you came to visit Norman.

" Someone ! Call the police ! This insane maniac killed Y/N !"

They then all run outside where Allison already alerted the murder. However, as expected, no policeman comes and only a black car parks in front of the motel with the same kind of militia that had attacked Freddy. However, they're wearing different badges and drag Norman out of the house. They don't even stop to verify that you're truly dead..You wake up and look around to find Allison that smiles at you.

" It worked. They took him."

You nod and she then gives you a phone with the coordinates of Norman on it. You both run outside and jump in a van where the rest of the Hargreeves family is waiting for you.

Norman is thrown out of the car and dragged again in an empty house where the armed guards leave him alone. He looks around curiously, thinking he's indeed alone, but he then hears a small hum coming from outside.

He follows the sound and is surprised to find a little girl on a swing.

" Well, hello there.."

The little girl keeps swinging, not even bothering giving him a short glance as Norman approaches. Norman frowns in confusion, wondering if the girl is deaf ? But, the little girl finally gets out a portfolio that she gives to Norman wordlessly. Norman opens it and his eyes widen significantly as he sees multiple photos of him through the years.

" I must admit, you've had quite the impressive life, M. Bates. You're a bookworm, even though you barely went to school. You're an amazing pianist, even though you never had lessons and self-taught yourself. You even learned how to fix a car, or sabotage one before one of your victims could even think of escaping..You're quite the prodigy, too bad that you're insane.."

His hands tighten on the portfolio as he sees a very detailed description of how he murdered agent H/N.

" How did you find out ?"

He asks, but she ignores his question and only giggles childishly.

" It would be a shame if she were to find out how much of an hypocrite you really are..After all, you've not been totally honest with her about your kill count those days, isn't it right Claude Shaw ?"

Norman's smile falters as he recognizes his alias from the night he murdered H/N.

" Don't tell her..Please. She has nothing to do with it."

But, the little girl only giggles again before finally turning her face towards him.

" Well, that depends on you, silly. You can stay here and wait for the others to come, or you can come with me, and be your true self again..If so, get rid of that little tracker you have in your pocket."

He gulps loudly before looking down at the transmitter in his hand. He then closes his eyes and mouthes a small apology to you before crushing the small device in his hand. The little girl grins widely before hoping towards him and taking his hand.

" You did the right thing..She abandoned you, the best you can do is return the favor..My name is Nina by the way."

His heart tightens in his chest at her words and he follows her obediently, his will to fight just gone. He is tired of fighting..He tried for you, so hard..But, he wants to feel alive again.

" I'm sorry, my little monster..Seems like I'm not strong enough.."

You frown in worry when you see the red dot disappear on your monitor. Did something happen to Norman ? Fortunately, you did hide another one of the small trackers in his jacket. You are able to follow him to an hotel called the Redemption. The tall building's name seems so familiar to you..You then remember that it is the name of the hotel the nice lady told you about, saying that she had a job for the slashers..You grit your teeths and clench your fists in anger as you understand that it was most likely a trap from the very beginning.

" What is that ?! Some kind of bar ?! Hope they got good ol' whiskey.."

Freddy yells and gets you out of your own thoughts at the same time. Klaus replies with a big smirk.

" Now, someone's talking my language.."

Vanya winces at their loud voices.

" Remind me why we brought the psychotic child murderer with us ?"

You sigh before turning toward the both of them.

" Because he's the only one who can protect us if things go bad ? Plus, Freddy and me are the only ones that may convince all of the slashers to come back to the asylum."

" I'm here to cover your a**es !"

Freddy cackles and you give him a stern look.

" Let's not be rude nonetheless.."

However, as soon as you arrive, Diego gets out of the car and enters the building without even waiting for you. Some armed guards try to stop him, but he puts them down in an instant. You and Freddy are impressed and look at the other siblings for an explanation. Vanya finally answers your silent question with a knowing smile and glowing blue eyes.

" You're not the only one with superpowers, firecracker.."

Freddy groans at the nickname before retorting.

" Let's see what you've got, blue fairy.."

You then all enter the building where Diego is already beating the hell out of everyone to get answers.

" Where is Five ?!"

He shouts at one of the employees of the hotel that can only stammer in response.

" I..I don't know !"

" Not good enough, buddy."

Diego then takes a nearby wine bottle and breaks it to threaten the employee that is crying with the sharp edge. You want to say that it's enough, but then other men arrive to stop Diego and all of the siblings start fighting.

You stand back, knowing that fighting these guys would probably not give you any answers. You want to help, but not like this. Suddenly, someone takes your hand and drags you away. You turn around and are relieved to see Freddy.

" Freddy ? What are you..?"

" Ssh..I heard something down there.."

He shushes you and you nod silently in understanding. You both move on cautiously, even you can sense the strange atmosphere in the air now..

Suddenly, you hear something falling ahead of you and Freddy instinctively takes your hand to reassure you. He then turns his head towards you and lets go of your hand to walk ahead.

" Stay here.."

He says, but you don't have the time to agree as you see a shadow up ahead. Freddy stands up defensively in front of you, but his eyes widen as he recognizes the big shadow.

" Jason..?"

You frown and look over Freddy's shoulder at the tall slasher, but he doesn't answer..He just keeps walking with his machete in his hand.

" Jason ! Pal ?! You're okay ?"

But Jason still doesn't answer him, he just swings his machete wordlessly and Freddy barely manages to duck.

" Hey ! Careful ! You almost hit me, you big doofus !"

But Jason only groans animalistically in response and swings his machete again, aiming for Freddy head and succeeds in cutting his cheek.

" What the..?! Is it about that time when I stole your mask or ate your chocolate pudding ? No hard feelings, right ? It was only a joke."

Jason doesn't seem to even see or hear him as he doesn't stop swinging his machete right and left in order to kill Freddy. You know how their usual fight looks like, and that is definitely not it..You try to stop Jason by standing protectively in front of Freddy with both arms extended.

" Jason ! Stop ! It's me ! It's Y/N !"

He seems to hesitate for a second, but Freddy tackles you to the ground just as Jason is about to hit you with his machete. Freddy stands up quickly and pushes you aside just as Jason strikes again and cuts Freddy's shoulder deeply. Freddy screams in pain, but still has the strength to push Jason away with his legs. He then stands up again and glares at Jason before opening his hand warningly, showing his long sharp claws.

" I'm sorry, pal..I don't know what's going on with you, but you leave me no choice.."

They both stare at each other, both waiting for the other one to make the first move..Finally, it's...

And you'll see in the next chapter ! Yes, I'm awful. 😂 This is the chapter I wanted to publish. Hope you liked it.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #slashers #umbrella academy #five hargreeves #freddy krueger x reader #the joker x reader #arthur fleck

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jadelynlace · 3 years

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Hvitserk’s First Tattoo / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. here is the visual reference for the tattoo Hvitserk gets (image isn’t mine and all credit goes to it’s original owner). mentions of brotherly bickering, Hvitserk being scared and Ivar tattooing.

synopsis: You finally talk Hvitserk into getting some ink.

✎

“Did I miss it?” You say, nearly falling in through the main door of the shop. “I almost took the ambulance over here just because it has lights and sirens,” Hvitserk offers you an estranged look, one mixed with him being mortified and slightly impressed with your timing after the over night shift.

“I’ve never seen you this excited,” Sigurd calls from his spot, pulling a record from the shelf as he goes about lining it up, pulling the needle over so the music can fill the room.

“She doesn’t even get this excited when she sees my dick,” Ivar teases from his spot and you offer him a less than kind finger gesture.

“Can you blame me?” You remark back and Ivar only returns your original hand motion. “Did you pick yet?” You the ask as Hvitserk studies Ivar’s portfolio, as if he will be quizzed on it at the end of the session.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” He groans, another turn of the laminated pages.

“All of our best talks happen when it’s in the ambulance cabin at four in the morning,” You laugh, patting his back as you round the small counter. Ivar’s hands are quick to seat you on his lap, wrapping around you almost instantly and you both breathe in relief.

“Long night?” Ivar asks softly in your ear.

“Routine bullshit,” You grumble back, his hands tracing up your back and you could almost fall asleep in the very spot. One hand leaves your spine, reaching along the counter to grasp the tall can of his energy drink, offering it to you but you only shake your head. “That crap tastes like cough syrup,” You add as Ivar downs another gulp.

“Hurry up Hvitserk, we’re here after hours for this,” Ivar calls before he pulls the can back to his mouth.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to pop your cherry,” You say and Ivar looses some of the energy drink through a spray from his lips.

“You can get her name on your ass,” Sigurd says, walking past Hvitserk and tapping his uniform clad back.

“Why? So Ivar and I can match?” Hvitserk grumbles back and you laugh against Ivar’s chest.

“How do they know about that?” Ivar asks you quietly, through a teasing voice and you raise slightly, giggling against his mouth as your catch his lips with yours.

“Oh, for fucks sake—Hvitserk here, do that one,” Sigurd says, tapping his fingers against the page. “Paramedic Ragnarsson gets an anatomical tattoo,”

“Nice choice,” Ivar hums, standing to his full height with you latched still around him and he sets you to sit along the counter.

“Is it nap time for the baby?” Sigurd says, voice taking on a toddler’s tone as he sits back at the front desk, and at the receiving end of the pen that flies from Ivar’s grasp. Leather combat boots stalk along the dark wooden floors, pulling the design from its laminated home before Ivar sends the image through the printer in the far corner. Your eyes catch sight of his back, the muscles in his biceps, the veins on his forearms as he programs the machine to spit out the stencil. Looming your eyes up the gray fabric of the old band tee, over the locks that he’s starting to comb into a bun, and then down the dark wash jeans and over how they end in the tops of his shoes. More thoughts swirl about how you couldn’t wait to undress him when you two would go to your apartment.

As Hvitserk makes himself comfortable in the black leather chair, he rolls up the uniform sleeve, a quick unbutton and folding of the blue material, already deciding on where he deemed the appropriate placement. The curl of his sleeve stops above his elbow and you could see the faint burn mark on his wrist from when he tried to eat a marshmallow that was still on fire. You watched Ivar position himself at his station, a meticulous arrangement of his tools, setting everything in a straight line to connect. There was a squirt of the ink into the containers, a pull of gloves onto his hands, wiggling his fingers into their spots and cracking his knuckles. You bit down on your own tongue to stop that moan that tried so hard to escape. Taking the razor to shave off the blond fuzz, he gingerly laid the stencil on his brother’s inner arm, pressing it gently before pulling it back.

“Double check in the mirror that you like the placement,” Ivar says, tossing his head towards the back wall with the mirror surrounded by an intense wooded frame Floki had built. Hvitserk stands, and you see the slight tremor in his hands, never a fan of any sort of pain—intentional or not. You’ve seen this man cry at the sensation of a paper cut, and all but sob when he jerked his shin against the metal grate on the ambulance’s bumper. But, he was also the man who would tell the patients that it was going to hurt—the realignment, or when he set up the hare for an isolated femur fracture—it was going to hurt and they had his full permission to break his hand if need be. You laugh every time there’s an active labor call, and Hvitserk reassures the mother that he has two hands, and if she needs to break one to push her child out, he’s willing to suffer. It calms the hysteria, even on the worst calls you two had walked into, Hvitserk always knew how to calm any of the demons that danced in the ambulance. Ivar turns to you as Hvitserk gazes, probably far longer than other client has to date, and slides himself over to where you’re perched. There’s a removal of one glove, an index finger and thumb on your chin as he kisses you once, twice, and third time.

“I already know what I want to eat for dinner,” He whispers against your ear, just loudly enough so you’re the only one to hear his words. “But make sure you leave the polo on, baby girl,” He adds, kissing your temple and nudging the badge that’s on your chest, as a slow blush roses over your cheeks while he turns back around. “Alright brother, ready?” He calls, tapping the seat of the chair and Hvitserk takes a final look before plopping both himself down and his arm against the cushion.

“Is it going to hurt?” Hvitserk asks, trying to bite the smile he’s showing while both Ivar and Sigurd are preparing to throw whatever they can reach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Ivar offers him another lethal glare, nearly plucking the smile from his lips as he begins to spread a thin layer of the ointment across the purple ink. There’s a buzz from the needle gun and Hvitserk whimpers not unlike a puppy. Ivar’s glove-clad fingers stretch to pull the skin taunt, taking the gun down the first line and wiping it with a paper towel.

“Still alright, sir?” You say to Hvitserk as if he’s a patient in your ambulance and you’re watching an IV start.

“Can you hold my hand?” He whines in a faked voice of concern.

“No,” You say back and there’s a snicker from Sigurd on the far side of the shop. The room dulls to only the noise of the record, the vibration of the needle and you watch Ivar so effortlessly in his element. Eyes watching, concentrating on what he’s doing yet singing lowly to the lyrics of the song that floods your ears alike. He rolls his chair slightly, maneuvering Hvitserk’s arm to his liking as he holds it down with his own. Strength unmatched because his least favorite thing is when the client fidgets, since it sends his work to become sloppy, and he’s grown accustomed to a way to hold the body part down to his liking. And that sight makes you think about him over you, body weight pressing against you like a weighted blanket, one with a smart mouth and curved lip who melts at the sheer stroke of your nails on his skin. Your thoughts rolls from the shift you worked prior, reanalyzing what you had done, gone through, pulling it to part like thread. They roll like waves but crash with thoughts of Ivar, his small comment earlier and then they shift. From work to pleasure and you’re squeezing your thighs before you realize it. Ivar’s voice comes through your ears to halt the dissection, and you move your head to see Hvitserk admiring the piece now forever on his skin and you smile back. Another layer of ointment and then it’s wrapped tightly with Ivar’s instructions to leave it on for an hour.

“See? No need to be a little baby about it,” You tease him and he laughs.

“That’s his default setting,” Sigurd’s voice calls as he stands up. “Ivar you’re closing up tonight, right?” And Ivar just nods. “I will see your smiling face tomorrow morning then,” He adds sarcastically, and with a wave and check of his pockets he’s out the shops front door.

“Wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” Hvitserk jokes. “Maybe I will get your name on my ass after all,” You offer him a faked smile and forged laugh. “I’m going to head out too, I got the over time for tomorrow,” And he’s gone with a salute through his hand and the hundred dollar bill on the desk, leaving you and Ivar alone in the shop.

“I like seeing you in here,” You say softly as you watch him clear his materials, place everything in their homes and he smiles while he works. “You’re so relaxed,”

“I can say the same thing when I see you in that ambulance, baby,” He replies as he casts a look back to you and then he’s standing, arm grabbing you to come into his side. “Now let’s get going, I’m really looking forward to my dinner…”

Ink Drinker Tags:

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dearlyanqels · 3 years

Text

Birthday Gift

part one | part two

the reader turn 22, and she was not having a good day, so she went to a bar that barely anyone went through, it's not what she expected it be, a secret hide out for those who were causing damage.

From the moment she woke up, her day went shitty, it was started with her waking up, then the eviction notice hanging on her door for all to see, then it was the assault on the bus, she just wanted to wear a skirt for crying out loud. soon she got to work. throwing on her badge to access the building, then someone bump into her while she was carrying hot coffee for her jack ass boss. "you're late bringing my coffee" he said to her, she close her eyes and smiled "sorry sir, I'll do better." then her smile disappeared when she heard slurping sounds and red pumps. "excuse me" she said taking her leave. it was just only four when her day felt relaxed when she saw a little note.

you're doing fine and well, happy birthday bitch -your best friend

she went back to paper work, and loads more of paper work. the clock hit six, it was time for her to clock out "ah wait my lovely employee, a little birdy told me today was your birthday. here after you're done looking over my portfolio" she look at her boss "isn't your personal assistant supposed to do that?" she asks and on cue those red pumps were back in her view "sorry, I'm busy, happy birthday hag" she said leaving.

they were the same age, she was younger than his personal assistant anyways, like a few months. she look at his portfolio a d read over everything, it was good up until the last page

'if you don't like it then don't bitch about how your company will lose against mine. I work for this place and i was hoping for this to work. did you get that, good now let me-" she stop reading and groan, she threw the thing her bag and walk out of the building.

"I fucking hate this shit, and that walking HPV has to steal everything from me once again, I was supposed to get that promotion. screw her and her fishie self fucki- sorry" she realize she was talking to herself on the whole way to where ever her feet lead. "I need a drink- oh look someone is answering a prayer." she open the doors up, an okay bar was there with plenty of drinks, half full and nearly done ones. "hello?" she ask out loud, no one answer "the sign says open.. fuck it" she hop over the bar isle and grab the strongest drink she could find.

"hello dear friend, thank you for being there when I was crying senior year. ah my jackie" she look down and pick up a glass, it was clean. she started to pour the drink into the cup and then pour the rest down her mouth "it's been a minute since I had a taste of you" she said. she soonly got on top the isle and sat there, took more drinks and then some shots.

"- and he told me he loved me, you know that I treated him with so much respect, I even lost my virginity to him. god he was so terrible, I mean I wouldn't have known, but still" she was talking to the drink as if they known eachother for years. "yeah I feel you" her heart stop as she saw black wrap, a knife and blue flames. "who are you and why are you in my place of work, especially on my well clean counter?" the wrap thing was speaking to her. "it's my birthday, and-d who are you, I been here for -brup- an hour and all I have is no service" she said pointing a finger, they notice she didn't back away, yelled, or commented on them.

"hm, my apologies, I see you've drink Jack Daniel's all up, want me to pour you mo-" she didn't hear the rest, she saw a person with a few hands on him, plae blue hair "oh, the league of villains, oh god where were you guys when my boss was making fun of you." they all look at her as she laugh "you're just now realizing who we are? did all that drinking make you lose brain cells?" she look at the scar male, the one with blue flames. "dabi right? toga, splinter, mr. compressor, and shigarki. I don't know your name so wrap it is" she burp once more, "I'll handle her, you all can leave now." everyone left leaving the pale blue leader and the drunk girl behind.

"you said today was your birthday, how old?" he ask taking off the hands from his body. she look at her bottle friend "should I tell him?" she whisper and nodded "okay, i will. I'm twenty two" she said proudly, he chuckled and got closer. she took in his scent, mint, it was comforting, it relaxed her enough to lay on his body. "I could kill you at this given moment, and you choose to lay on me?" he question her she nodded and look up, he was still wearing a hand on his face, he places his fingers on her, not all five, he wanted her alive "if you did kill me, that will be the best birth-" he choose to kiss her instead, she could taste mint on his breathe, and can feel his scar it oddly good. "wait you took off your- wow you're pretty" his red eyes pour into hers, she notice his skin was pale, his eyes were ich up and so was his neck.

"you're very beautiful" she said, he smiled and grab a pair of gloves "wait, wait, my quirk is shield, watch" she grab his hand fully, nothing, she was still there. "so far, you're the best birthday present." she said grabbing his face to kiss him.

"finally he can get laid, and get off our backs" a voice said grabbing a drink "dabi, do you fucking mind?" Tomura ask making her giggle, oh this was the best gift, she finally felt relaxed.

"oh my name is Y/N Todoroki, yeah Endeavor-" a glass broke making them both turn, dabi was turn away from them.

#mha x reader #my hero academia shigaraki #shiggy #shigaraki tomura #tomura x you #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x y/n #bnha fluff #getting drunk #league of villains #shigaraki x you #my hero academia

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translightyagami · 3 years

Note

I’m so torn when fic requests open up because I love requesting fics and getting ficlets back but I hate that the reason for requests being open is to get back your creativity. It happens to me so much so I know how hard it is, and I wish you the best of luck and send you good vibes ❤️

For the request! How about a Lawlight coffeeshop AU? I’d love to see your spin/take on that.

(hey hey! I did write a coffeeshop AU like a few years ago, but I thought I’d try again with this short prompt.)

cross-posted on ao3!

Being Kira and being the assistant manager of a university Starbucks was, Light admitted, a lot for one person to handle. Especially when two of their newer “partners” called in sick to their shifts, and no one was answering his “Can you put in some extra hours” texts on their days off – and also he had humiliated himself on television the night before thanks to an international detective. Light grabbed the soy milk harder than he needed. Just thinking about that smug voice-scrabbling scolding he got made him squeeze the damp cardboard in his fist.

“Don’t squeeze too hard,” Ryuk said. The Shinigami floated over the Starbucks dining area and examined his rings. “You’ll make a soy explosion.”

If he weren’t wearing a microphone headset right then, Light would have said a few choice words to his hanger-on. Ryuk didn’t even need to come to work with him; the death god chose to after he finished watching all of Light’s VHS.

“Light,” the cashier, a short blue-haired woman, pulled him over from where he was finishing a vanilla latte. Her big green eyes filled with the particular fear of a complicated order. “Please. You have to tell this guy he can’t have that many syrups.”

“I want that many syrups,” Ryuk leaned over the register screen, big yellow eyes pressed to the long itemized list. “Shinigami realm doesn’t even have one syrup.”

“The customer is always right,” Light rattled off. He wiped his hands on his black apron, not looking to see what sort of freak wanted – what was it, all of their flavor syrups? That would taste terrible, but it was what the customer wanted. “Just charge this man and we’ll make his drink.”

“I’m not a man.”

For a moment, Light froze. Misgendering customers wasn’t usually his business – leave that for the newbies, who still wrote Jeff as Jeb every time. He gave his cashier a pat on the shoulder and told her to take up drink service for a minute. Slipping in front of the register, Light glanced up at the customer causing all the fuss. Lean, with long unkempt black hair, deep under-eye circles, an arrogant, aquiline nose, they bore the air of someone taller than their deep hunch showed. They watched him with immense focus, leaving Light to feel butterfly-pinned. He smeared a smile over his lips.

“So,” Light said. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble. Let me give you this one on the house, as an apology.”

“No need,” the customer picked at their chapped lip. “Do you think it’ll taste good?”

“I’m sorry? Are you asking if I think what you ordered would be good?”

“Yes.” Dark hair flopped as the customer nodded. “If I trust anyone’s opinion on a coffee order, it would be you” – they squinted at Light’s name badge – “Light, Starbucks employee.”

“Partner,” Light said, his response ingrained. “We’re called partners now. We get stock, sometimes.”

“How wonderful for your financial portfolio,” the customer said.

Dull but present throbbing started in Light’s head. Bullish customers reminded him of that stupid L from the television. No matter what Light did, that detective had a comeback, a little maneuver to leave him steamed, although the thrill of countering those moves was natural for him. Customer service wasn’t dissimilar in requiring quick response time – and Light was an expert at making things go his way. After all, he managed angry mothers who didn’t realize mocha drinks had caffeine all the time. Some asshole with international acclaim goading him from behind a computer screen wasn’t that bad.

Still though. Headaches all the same.

“I think that whatever you choose will be right,” Light said. He already entered his manger override and was about to push the order through. “It’s your drink.”

“Tell me,” the customer shoved their hand over the register screen, halting Light in his steps. “Have you ever once told a customer the truth in your life, Light?”

Their gray eyes bore into him and Light found as he stared at their features a certain handsome severity in them. Behind him, the kitchen hushed. Heat burst in his cheeks, giving Light an unwelcome blush. Was this person really going to humiliate him over some stupid drink order? Light swallowed the indignant spit welling in his throat.

“Your drink is going to taste bad,” he said – more spat, to be honest. “If you mix that many flavors, all you’ll taste is the artificial sweetening and the drink won’t even be digestible, I think. But you wanted it, so we’ll make it. Is that truth enough for you?”

The customer smiled. Light’s blushed deepened; not fair! It was a really cute smile.

“What would you recommend for someone who wants a drink that’s very sweet, then?” they asked. “If not all the sugar syrups combined?”

“I guess,” Light turned his attention to the menu, erasing the previous order. Making custom drinks was a particular pastime he enjoyed of his job. Finding elements from every part of the menu, pulling them together with knowledge borne of both taste testing and simple common knowledge: it all felt like a fun science experiment. “Hm. Well, I’d start with a blonde vanilla latte, three shots because you look like you’re not much for sleeping.”

“Excellent deduction,” the customer said. Although Light didn’t look up, he heard their tone warm, and grinned to himself. On a roll now, he thought.

“Then I’d add two shots of raspberry, two classic syrups shots, one pump pistachio sauce,” Light’s finger flew over the register screen. “Regular ice, wait, no. Extra ice. Whip cream and, just for you, freeze-dried strawberries on top.” He stopped and looked up at the customer. “Sorry, do you have any dairy restrictions? Is two percent okay?”

“Oat milk, please,” they said with a stupid, cute smile on their thin lips. “You’re quite good at this.”

“Oh, well,” Light finished out the order, not denying himself a little satisfied smirk. “I’m happy to help. What’s the name on the order?”

“Put it under,” the customer paused, their smile falling for a second. Above them both, Ryuk wheezed with laughter. “Put it under Lawliet, please.”

Light took Lawliet’s card, running it through the reader. Ryuk being annoying didn’t dampen his spirit, really. As he handed the card back, his and Lawliet’s fingers brushed. The caress stayed a phantom on Light’s skin as he made the drink. The entire time, he didn’t spare a single thought for L.

I wonder if Lawliet will come back, he thought as he watched them sip at his creation and nod approvingly. Light surprised himself with his next thought: I hope they come back.

#death note #lawlight #coffeeshop AU #my fic #ahhhhh the prompt filling begins!#graciegirly06

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itcars · 4 years

Photo

Continental GT Mulliner Convertible St Tropez Debut

The luxury pinnacle of the Continental GT family, the Continental GT Mulliner Convertible, will make its global debut at Cheval Blanc in St Tropez, as part of a European Summer Tour hosted by Bentley. The Continental GT Mulliner is the first member of the new Collections portfolio introduced by Bentley Mulliner.

Surpassing the industry-leading craftsmanship so synonymous with Bentley, Mulliner has raised the bar further to create the the Continental GT Mulliner Convertible; the pinnacle of roof-down automotive luxury.

Grand Black walnut veneer is standard, while a new extensive range of 88 different piano-finished wood veneers is available through Bentley Mulliner Personal Commissioning. Customers can therefore specify a contemporary, colorized veneer finish that can be matched to the interior or exterior of the car. Burr walnut veneer is hand sanded and polished to produce a perfectly smooth finish before painting to match the color of the customer’s choice. Once dry, the veneer is polished to achieve a mirror-like finish. For the new Continental GT Mulliner Convertible, eye-catching chrome details are overlaid into the piano veneer, including a Convertible silhouette in the passenger fascia and a B-motif in the door waistrails.

The new Continental GT Mulliner Convertible has been created to appeal to those customers wanting an even greater focus on beautiful details. Taking pride of position between the cut-crystal inspired, precision-made headlamps, Bentley Mulliner introduces a bold new Double Diamond front grille, which is further complemented by bespoke Mulliner-branded side vents that continue the unique silver-on-black diamond theme.

The new Double Diamond design was inspired by Bentley’s exclusive Diamond-in-Diamond interior quilting design concept, which adorns all four seats, the door casings, rear quarters and now for the first time furnishes the tonneau cover. The Diamond-in-Diamond interior quilting was tailored to include contrast stitching in two complementary colors to accentuate the thread against the quilting. It takes almost 400,000 stitches to deliver this quilting across the cabin of the car, with each diamond containing exactly 712 individual stitches – each one precisely aligned to point to the center of the diamond it creates. Developing the embroidery process to deliver this process alone took 18 months.

Furnishing the sleek and muscular profile of the Continental GT Mulliner Convertible, the all-new 22” 10-spoke painted & polished wheels have floating, self-leveling wheel badges that remain upright as the wheel rotates.

The ultimate handcrafted Continental GT Convertible interior offers eight custom-made three-color combinations. A new Mulliner-designed colour split defines the eight color ways, including a third accent color to the interior in the form of a distinctive design line. The hand-stitched hides are embellished with unique Mulliner-branded embroidery.

Bentley Mulliner combines traditional and modern coachbuilding techniques to introduce new contemporary and bespoke features. An exquisitely tactile Diamond Milled Technical finish has been applied to the center console, through Bentley's first use of a multi-machined panel process, extending the longest-standing partnership between a watch brand and an automotive manufacturer. The center console houses a new and exclusive Breitling for Mulliner clock with a new brushed metallic face and bejeweled hour marks. The clock bezel and air vent surrounds are finished in chrome to complete the stunning interior jewelry. The ornate and luxurious design of the Breitling for Mulliner clock face is also applied to the Driver Display Kombi, with the precision-rendered gauges of the LED-display driver’s instrument panel using the same brushed finished and Mulliner branding, linking the analogue and digital harmoniously.

The new Continental GT Mulliner Convertible features mood lighting comprising of seven different themes, uplifted by illuminated Mulliner tread plates and LED welcome lamps that project the famous Bentley wings to the ground from the door mirrors.

The Continental GT Mulliner Convertible is available with the top of the range Naim for Bentley audio system. The state of the art setup features eighteen speakers and two Active Bass transducers driven by a 2,200‑watt, 20-channel amplifier and eight DSP sound modes with Active Bass.

Customers of the Continental GT Mulliner Convertible will receive their keys in a sumptuous, Mulliner-branded handcrafted presentation box, which matches the three-color interior configuration of the car. The two keys are provided in similarly color-matched leather cases with contrast stitching.

The Continental GT Mulliner Convertible will be available with Bentley's V8 and W12 powertrains. When equipped with Bentley’s 6.0-liter, twin-turbocharged W12, the Continental GT Mulliner Convertible accelerates from 0-60 mph in 3.7 seconds (0-100 km/h in 3.8 seconds) and is capable of a top speed of 207 mph (333 km/h). The new-generation 4.0-liter, twin‑turbocharged V8 delivers a top speed of 198 mph (318 km/h) and 0‑60 mph in 4.0 seconds (0-100 km/h in 4.1 seconds).

Available in the extended Bentley Mulliner paint range of 88 colors, customers wishing to specify their Continental GT Mulliner Convertible in a bespoke shade can commission Bentley’s artisan paint specialists to color-match to any item or sample.

#Continental GT Mulliner Convertible #bentley #cars #mulliner #coach built #convertibles #Continental GT #british #britain

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starlit-serenade · 4 years

Text

Photoshoot

📸 Summary: As a growing small photographer with friends in . . . places, you managed to get an hour long photoshoot with ONEUS's dancer, Yeo Hwanwoong. A dancer who you have admired from a distance for a long time.

📸 Word Count: 1,847 words

📸 Pairing: Reader x Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong) / Characters: GenderNeutral!Reader, Photographer!Reader; Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong);

📸 Rated: E / Warnings: None / Genre: GenderNeutral!Reader; Fluff (?); Platonic (?);

You gaze out the window of the bus, phone in hand as you ride to the RBW building, carrying your camera equipment in a large, heavy briefcase.

You've never taken any photography with any RBW artists before. Actually, you've never taken any photography for any K-Pop idols before. You've helped out with some drama and magazine photoshoots, with actors and small dancers, and have even published some nature photography and photography of back-up dancers, but you'd never worked with any actual music artists before.

Through a friend you have, that works at RBW, you managed to get permission to do a small photoshoot with the main dancer of ONEUS, Yeo Hwanwoong.

And Hwanwoong is a dancer you've admired for a while. His dancing is amazing to watch. He has a sort of intense yet graceful style, and is always on point. His confidence and his elegance are both things you are excited to see and hopefully photograph today. Ever since you started photographing dancers, you'd daydreamed about photographing Yeo Hwanwoong.

You have five minutes of walking left to do after the bus, so with your bag of equipment in hand, you make your way down the sidewalk, humming some songs to yourself.

You walk into the building. Your friend is standing in the lobby, smiling. He walks over to you, gives you a tight hug, gives you a visitor's badge, and leads you down the hall.

"You're a bit early. Are you excited?" he asks, ushering you into the elevator. "You get to photograph Yeo Hwanwoong!"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, I am excited. Thank you for helping me with this opportunity. But I swear, it's just a photoshoot. It's not any different from the other dancers I've photographed. It's not like I'm partnering with RBW long-term or anything."

"Except for that he's an idol," he says, grinning from ear to ear. The elevator stops, rings, and the doors open into the next hallway. You follow him out of the hallway.

"Well, now you're scaring me," you say. "Is he nice or not?"

Your friend stops at a door on the left, a semi-transparent door. "Oh, he's a sweetheart. Nothing less than kind and friendly." He pushes the door open and ushers you inside. "Maybe in the future, you could partner with RBW and do more photoshoots with the members. You can start setting up your stuff now," he says, checking his phone. "Yeo Hwanwoong should be here within the next ten minutes."

You nod, setting down your equipment. Your friend winks at you.

"Good luck," he says, before leaving, closing the door as he goes.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down. You're both nervous and excited. You're nervouscited.

You stand near your camera, which set on a tripod. You're adjusting the lighting of the room.. You keep glancing around the space in front of you and at the camera next to you, trying to imagine what gorgeous shots you might get today.

You hear a click behind you, the door opening and then closing. You quickly turn around to face the door in surprise, and you recognize him instantly.

Yeo Hwanwoong is standing there, his hands behind his back with a bright smile on his face. He's wearing a loose white button-up shirt and black jeans. the way his hair is done makes him look a bit like a prince.

You quickly stand up straight and bow in greeting. "Hello, Mr. Yeo. I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

"Oh, you don't need to be formal with me," he says. You nod. "You can just call me Hwanwoong. And uh, I know who you are."

You knit your brows and tilt your head curiously. "You do?"

"Well, when they told me you wanted to do a photoshoot with me, I was curious. So I looked you up," he explains. "I really admire your work. And I don't mean the work that's published in magazines. I mean your work. You can really feel the emotions and intentions in them."

You blink in surprise, a bit flustered. You're still beyond shocked that Yeo Hwanwoong of ONEUS looked at your photography, as well as really looked into your photos and analyzed them. Your online portfolio. Your photoshoots. You can feel your cheeks heating up, and you clear your throat.

"That's very kind of you to say, Mr. Yeo." You nod your head respectfully. You're sure that your voice is shaking from excitement. "Shall we get to the photoshoot?"

Hwanwoong nods and chuckles gently. "Right. You asked me to prepare a dance routine, am I correct?"

You nod. "Yes. I've done some dance photography and I really love it. I think photography can capture a lot more than just the dance, especially with really passionate dancers. Which is why I wanted to photograph you. Sorry, that sounded cheesy."

"No, it's fine," Hwanwoong says, grinning. "I've seen your photos, I think I know what you mean.

You nod. "Yeah. Um. I'll be taking photos from all sorts of angles and you will have to go through the routine several times. Please let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"Of course," he says. "I've done photoshoots before."

You nod. "Right. Uh. Yeah." You're nervous. This is your first time photographing an idol, so you don't know exactly how to handle this.

"Don't be so nervous," he says. "Imagine we're friends. You don't have to be so formal. I know that, as an idol, I can be intimidating. But I'm not scary, I promise." He smiles brightly, and you can feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. You nod and look away.

You and Hwanwoong have been taking photos for a good twenty-five minutes. After you took some initial photos of him, standing in a starting position, you had him start his routine. You would be lying if you didn't get all fuzzy and shy and flustered whenever he makes eye contact with the camera or winks at you playfully after making a flirtatious joke.

"Where would you like me to look?" Hwanwoong asks. "Eyes closed? Eyes forward? The camera? Your pretty face?"

He winks, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. You look away and clear your throat.

"Let's start with eyes forward, if that's okay," you mumble. "And we can move on to you looking at the camera later. If that's alright with you."

As the accompanying music plays in the background, Hwanwoong dances elegantly. You take photos from several angles. When he goes through the routine once, you take photos from a lower angle. And when he goes through a second time, you take them from the side. You make sure to capture his elegant movements, the way his arms stretch out and his wrists are bent.

"Great," you say, clicking through the photos to review them quickly. "Let me quickly adjust the lighting, and then I'll have you looking at the camera. Does that sound good?"

"Sounds great!" He smiles brightly, and you can feel the corners of your lips raising. His smile is so contagious.aq

You walk over to the lamp and adjust its position, moving it to the side and angling it so it'll be shining right on the spot where Hwanwoong will cross over, a place where he will be in a pose that you need to capture in a specific light. You know it'll be stunning.

As you start adjusting your camera a bit, clicking through some of the previous photos to figure out what did and didn't work, you can feel a pair of eyes watching you. You ignore it, Hwanwoong staring at you. Perhaps he's just curious about photography.

You move to kneel down and point your camera at Hwanwoong. He's still staring at you, though his eyes are distant, almost like he's staring through you. He has a soft smile on his face. Not a creepy one. More like a daydreamy smile. He looks more like a Disney prince than you could have imagined.

You nod to him to signal that you're ready for him to start his routine, but he simply slowly blinks.

"Mr. Yeo?" you ask. Hwanwoong nods softly, but doesn't say anything. You clear your throat and speak louder.

"Mr. Yeo, can you please either focus on the dance or the camera and not at me?" you say. Hwanwoong blinks, broken from his trance and smiles that annoyingly adorable smile that you'd spent all morning trying to ignore.

"Of course," he says, resuming his original position. "Ready?" he asks. You give him a thumbs up, and he gives you a quick wink before starting the routine.

You snap photos throughout. His intense gaze, staring into the camera, makes you feel a bit flustered. You try to focus hard on taking photos, Hwanwoong's powerful stare is distracting, causing you to miss a couple great shots.

After he stops, you smile.

"That was great," you say, nodding. "Could you please go through it one more time, exactly as you just did? I need to retake some photos."

"Sure!" he says, smiling brightly. You're very shocked by the switch between his powerful, intense self when he's performing, and his pleasant, cheerful attitude otherwise. He goes from an elegant tiger to a flower petal in the blink of an eye.

After a few more minutes, your time starts to come to a close. Hwanwoong offers to help you pack up your stuff--there isn't much, but he's sweet.

"Thank you for being willing to do this shoot," you say after the end. "I'm really grateful for this opportunity. I will have these photos edited, and I'll be in conversation with the company for publishing stuff."

"Great!" Hwanwoong says. "Thank you for reaching out. It was an honor to work with you, and I had a great time."

You nod and head for the doorway when Hwanwoong calls out.

"Hey, Y/L/N?" he asks. You stop and raise an eyebrow curiously. Hwanwoong walks over and grins nervously, shifting from one foot to the other. "I would love to do another photoshoot with you at some point in the future. Would you be willing to possibly . . . exchange phone numbers?"

You swear you almost faint on the spot. Exchanging phone numbers? With Yeo Hwanwoong? From ONEUS?

"I--uh--well, I--yes!" you stutter nervously. "I mean--yes! Of course!"

Hwanwoong grins mischievously and laughs a bit. He must have noticed he got you a bit flustered and surprised, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he reaches for his back pocket and takes out his phone. "Great! I can tell you my number first, or you can tell me yours."

#kdiarynet #oneus #hwanwoong #yeo hwanwoong #oneus fanfic #oneus fanfiction #hwanwoong fanfic #hwanwoong fanfiction #yeo hwanwoong fanfic #yeo hwanwoong fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #myfic

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chemiste · 4 years

Text

Foresight ~ ch.7

a/n: hahahah this is overdue! but here’s ch.7!! this is sorta a filler chapter but i’m trying to get the ball rolling ya know?

masterlist

You scrunched your eyebrows together but agreed anyway and walked over to the table she was fishing something out of her bag at.

“What’s up Hél?”

She held up a finger as her other hand dug through the bag, a few seconds later made a triumphant aha! And pulled a badge out that had a lanyard attached to it.

“I was wondering if you’d like to take pictures during the show, H told me you’re a photographer.”

You lit up like a Christmas tree, “Wait are you serious? I’d love to!”

You took the badge from her and put it on, doing a little happy dance before pulling her into a hug.

“This badge will give you access to the aisles beside the stage and basically anywhere that fans are not allowed, you’ve got your camera right?”

“Yes, it’s in the dressing room I’ll go grab it!”

You raced down the hallway, but not before basically slamming into Harry to give him a big hug, “Thank you so much, Harry, seriously.”

“Of course Junebug, anything so I see tha’ grin on your face.”

He’s so dreamy.

Psh, what no, just a nice friend gesture s’all…

You shook your head of the thoughts and went to grab your camera, you followed Hélène through the door to the entrance below the stage so that you’d both be in place for when the screen rose to show off the band.

Your adrenaline was pumped, you could hear the excited chatter among the crowd, waiting in anticipation for the ball to drop— or rather the cube to drop.

The screen started to rise and there he was.

You snapped pictures, adjusting the shutter a few times when you wanted a more artsy picture of him, but kept the controls fixed on laser-sharp quality for the rest of the time. You wanted the pixels to pristinely capture how he pumped his fist with the drums or how his fingers laid on the mic stand when he closed his eyes and just sang his heart out.

You end up running down the center aisle and then ducking left to capture some more of the singer’s performance. Slightly leaning back into the barrier of the front pit, you zoom in and snap the perfect photo.

Harry’s eyes are closed and both hands hold the mic and stand, the background is blacked out and he looks stunning. You lowered your camera slightly as you watch him sing, slightly bewildered at the moment in front of you.

“He’s something isn’t he?”

A girl in the front off handily says to you, her accent thick but still understandable.

“Yeah,” you find yourself saying, “yeah he is.”

A few songs later, harry stops to chat with the audience, you know the next songs he’ll either stay on stage or make a break for it through the crowd to stage B.

He’ll be going to stage B in 2 minutes and 32 seconds

You spot Hélène already at B so you decide you’ll just follow behind him through the crowd, get some more artsy pics that could work for your website gallery or a portfolio.

The rockstar beamed as he made his way through the aisle, touching all the hands that were desperately reaching out towards him. He was handed bouquets, cards, flags, and a couple of bras were thrown his way you saw.

It was a wild experience, the new angle from a different stage let you take more interesting shots that had the crowd in them as well. The fans were ecstatic, every one of them singing the lyrics like they wrote them themselves, it made you so proud of Harry and how much he had accomplished on his own.

“Antwerp! Eve’yone doing well so far?”

Cheers were heard throughout the arena, Harry was grinning so hard you couldn’t even see his eyes. After his encore songs, the band did one final bow before heading off stage. You quickly rushed through the side door to head back to the dressing room to meet them.

“Another one in the bag superstar!”

You shouted as you posed at the doorway, mimicking harry’s mic movements to the people in the room.

“Oh yea? Thought I saw someone chasin’ after meh through the crowd,” Harry responded, shrugging his expensive jacket off to hang. In a flash of movements, Harry snatched your camera from your grasp and held it over your head as you reached up to grab it.

“Hey, that’s mine, you thief!” You laughed.

“Hmm, I think it’s my turn to take some picture eh?” You gasped and raced out into the hallway, the rockstar hot on your tail.

He finally cornered you and started snapping. You raised your hand to block the flashes. H finally looked down and clicked through the pictures, you sensed he finally found one he liked and showed it to you.

“Y’know, I think I might have found a new talent of mine.” You rolled your eyes, “leave the camera to me band boy.” “B-band boy! Who ‘re you callin’ a band boy?!”

You were snuggled in bed, dreaming of Vogue photoshoots and a faceless brunette boy.

Time to go…

What?

A sharp knock awoke you from your deep slumber. You squinted as you pulled the lamp cord, casting the room in soft warm light. Another knock made you shoot out of bed, the baby blue silk shorts and camisole didn’t do anything for the slight chill in the air.

Should’ve turned off the air conditioning, my nipples are poking through my top!

More obnoxious knocks ramped on the door. “Coming, coming! Jeez—” you pulled the door open, “—what do you, Harry?” The boy in question was standing outside your door, dressing sweats, and a hoodie, holding a backpack on one shoulder.

“Uh, wha do you mean? It’s time to go.”

“Wait, oh that’s what that was.” He looked at you with a confused expression, you waved your hand around.

“Never mind, let me grab my stuff and we’ll go.” Harry nodded, he glanced down slightly and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

Oh right…

You crossed your arms over your chested and he coughed into his hand, looking up to the ceiling. “I’m… gonna— yeah.”

You closed the door and scrambled to get ready. “Next time, a little bit more of a warning would be nice!” You whispered to yourself quietly.

You quickly threw on some leggings and tripled checked that you put a bra on, then slipped your San Fransisco blue hoodie on and zipped up your black boots. You pulled your chargers out of the wall and closed your backpack, taking a last-minute check around the room that you weren’t forgetting anything and headed to the door.

Harry’s head looked up from his phone when your door opened, “ready to go?” You nodded, pulling the suitcase into the hallway.

“Sarah says that they’ve got an SUV to the terminal so let's get down there quickly.” He said as you both walked to the elevator.

Your head perked up at the word terminal, “huh? Terminal?”

“Yeah, the buses left last night, we’re taking a private jet to Stockholm.”

Private?

Jet?

Oh, Fuck.

telephone #7

masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles medicine #harry styles tour #harry styles tour 2018 #harry styles anna

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years

Text

Decryption_Error: “The Server Room, Part I”

Summary: Elliot is locked in the server room by a few of his colleagues to stop him from ruining their Memorial Day weekend. Y/N, Elliot’s manager, finds him and comes up with a solution to fix the broken servers, but because of Elliot’s injuries and his refusal to go to a hospital, Y/N makes him stay at her place for the long weekend. As Elliot and Y/N bond for the first time outside of work, something a little more than friendship starts to emerge.

Summary/Mood Board

Word Count: 5800

Disclaimer: I know 0 things about technology and want to cry real tears for making my narrator Elliot’s boss. I sincerely apologize to anyone I offend for my whack tech references--please let me know if you need me to fix something because it’s awful and I will credit you for saving me some embarrassment!

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @thingsfandom @limabein @lovie-rami @txmel @hopplessdreamer @ouatlovr

Warnings: Physical injuries/blood, language, **=heavily paraphrased from a monologue on Robot

Author’s Note: I won’t be able to update this story as quickly as Remnants because my life is about to get crazy busy. However, I will do my best so y’all don’t lose interest : ) Special shoutout to @alottanothing for helping me get this story organized and underway! Thanks for being my cheerleader 💕

For fuck’s sake! I thought as I changed out of my swimsuit and into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, shoving my still wet feet into a pair of sandals.

I had made it to my family’s place for Memorial Day weekend for the first time in years only to be called back to work because something happened to the servers. My boss, Miles, was out of town like everyone else in the goddamn city, and he trusted me as the Senior Manager to handle the situation.

CIStech Cybersecurity had been my life for the past four years. Starting as an Analyst really fostered my affinity for data and subsequently put me on the fast-track to become management. I liked working hard, and when I first started at CIStech, I would be mystified when I realized it was 10 pm, everyone had gone home, and I had skipped dinner (again) because I was 5,000 clicks deep into testing a contingency plan I created for scenario 11/1,000 in the event of a security breach.

My relationship with my job was complex--I knew I worked too much, but I needed those long days to help quell my anxiety; data gave me a focus and helped me make sense of a world that seemed to be drifting further and further into shades of grey, a place where evil and good barely served as separate entities anymore.

This long weekend was an important test for me—I needed to prove to myself that I could step away from the office and the world wouldn’t end, nor would my mental stability.

Except that I did step away from the office and the world did end—sort of. So much for convincing my brain that taking time off was a good thing.

For the first three quarters of the drive into the city, I had gone over about 30 scenarios in my mind and just as I was about to drive myself crazy, I shook my head and cranked up the music. There was only so much I could mentally prep for until I knew whether the problem was physical or within the network.

Because everyone in the city had fled to escape the rising humidity, I was able to park on a side street about a half of a block from work. I swiped my badge to get into the lobby of CNC Precision Machining, our host company, then said a quick hello to the head of night security, Lance. I swiped my badge again to activate the elevator, and as I rode up to the 18th floor, my anxiety curled into a lead ball and made itself at home in my stomach. Something did not feel right, and I almost, almost went back downstairs to ask Lance to radio a guard.

But, how often do we actually act on our anxiousness? For me, I had to talk myself out of so many horrors a day that I always felt silly when I gave in to whatever idea had made itself at home in my mind.

I talked myself down, thinking, It’s almost 11 pm, and all I have to do is check the servers. Maybe one of the fans broke. Maybe a plug fell out. I can fix it and still get back to Mom and Dad’s by 2.

Once again, I swiped my badge. I entered CIStech’s wing, but as I opened the door to the cybersecurity offices and turned to deactivate the alarm, I saw it had never been set. My mouth fell open, and again the idea of turning back flitted through my mind, except being pissed overtook my apprehension.

Whoever was the last to leave was getting a letter of reprimand. Sure, the building itself was secure, but to not set the alarm in a company’s tech security office? Inexcusable.

Since I was now fuming, the unset alarm compounding with my ire over my ruined start to the weekend, I grumbled away my nagging thoughts as I quickly walked to the server room, swiped my badge and scanned my fingerprint to open the door.

The harsh lights were on an automatic switch, so they popped to life as I stepped a few inches into the room; however, the crunch of plastic and the popping of glass made me stop, one foot poised in the air as I looked down to see what I stepped on.

The remnants of a server, or more than one server, were littered across the ground, and as I scanned for the source of the damage, the last thing I expected to find was a body. Immediately, my mind wondered if this was a trap, and then I wondered if the body was even alive.

My voice emitted a sort of strangled groan which caused the body on the floor to move—and when I saw that it wasn’t just a random body, my heart sank.

It was Elliot, my employee and my friend.

***Eight Months Ago***

“Next up is Elliot Alderson. Recent grad. Bachelor’s in Computer Engineering from Stevens Institute of Tech. This is the guy with the impressive skill set, knowledgeable in everything we use. His portfolio backs it up, too.”

“Mmm, I remember reading through it and thinking if even half of it is legit, he’s smarter than everyone in that room put together,” Colin said, gesturing in the direction of the office floor.

“I tested his work on the headless Raspberry PI he sent with his portfolio—worked like a charm.”

“That could save us a lot of headaches,” JaLeah said, clicking through the description in Elliot’s portfolio again.

“Did you notice how streamlined his portfolio is? It’s masterfully organized and aesthetically pleasing,” I said, leaning over to look at JaLeah’s screen.

She hummed in agreement.

“Jayne? Bring in Mr. Alderson, please,” I said as I pressed the button on the wireless intercom.

At CIStech, we strived to maintain a comfortable atmosphere. Instead of a panel of interviewers, it was just myself and my two Supervisors. Instead of interviewing in our board room, we interviewed in my office, the three of us seated at a round table so when the applicant joined us, they felt less on-the-spot.

However, when Elliot Alderson walked in the room, his unease was so palpable I doubted anything would alleviate his nervousness.

“Mr. Alderson,” Colin began, extending his hand. “I’m Colin Greene, Supervisor.

Elliot paused long enough for me to give him a onceover, and peripherally, I saw JaLeah do the same.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Senior Manager,” I said, shaking Elliot’s hand, his grip light as if the last thing he wanted to do in the world was touch me.

As JaLeah introduced herself, I took another quick inventory of Elliot Alderson. He was dressed well, although in clothes that were a bit too big on his small frame. His haircut, however, was immaculate, cut in a close fade on the sides with a mop of styled black hair on top.

His big, greyish eyes were moving around the room as if he were searching for the exit; and then, suddenly they stopped. It was like he reminded himself to pick a spot and focus.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” JaLeah said, sliding over the piece of paper that listed our interview questions.

As Elliot pulled out the chair and settled in, I explained what would happen during the interview, the goal to once again ease the nerves of the applicant.

“So, Mr. Alderson, I’m going to explain the process for this interview. First, we will give you a few minutes to read over the questions on the paper in front of you. When you are ready, let us know and we will take turns asking those questions. Once the Q&A portion is complete, we will connect our laptops to the one right here via RDP, and we will ask you to complete a specific task. Any questions so far?”

Elliot shook his head no.

“Excellent. Please take a few minutes to read over the questions, feel free to jot down notes in the spaces provided, then let us know when you are ready to begin,” I explained, ending with a smile.

Elliot did not return my smile; instead, his eyes dropped to the interview questions. As I watched him scan the paper, I had to remind myself not to stare. There was something about him that drew me in. His eyes were unlike any I had ever seen, and I couldn’t stop thinking about that damn, overquoted line from one of Walt Whitman’s poems: “I contain multitudes.”

Looking at Elliot, it was clear he contained depths, and I wanted to know everything there was to know about him. I could count on one hand the number of times I felt so immediately intrigued by another person.

After a minute or two, Elliot looked up, his eyes flickering between the three of us, and said, “Okay.”

Colin began, asking Elliot to tell us about his schooling and his professional experience.

Elliot answered carefully, reciting his academic and professional history. His voice was deep, a soothing monotone that was more like a raspy rattle than a melodious note.

“Thank you,” I said once he had finished speaking. “Question two asks about the steps you would take to secure a server. Walk us through that process, please.”

Once again, Elliot’s answer was correct and succinct.

“To secure a server, you use the SSL protocol for data encryption and decryption. Establish a secure password for your root and administrative users. Create the new users in the system. Remove remote access from the default root accounts. Configure your firewall rules for your remote access.”

I watched Elliot as he answered, his eyes focused on a spot over my shoulder. I made my notes as JaLeah moved on to the next question.

“What are the most common types of cyberattacks? Explain which attack you feel is most common and why it is most common.”

Elliot listed off the usual attacks with ease—phishing, malware, DDoS, password attacks, malvertising, man in the middle, but it was his answer to the second part of the question that allowed us to see a glimpse under his carefully crafted façade.

“People. People are the only reason cyberattacks happen and people are the ones who make it easy for hackers to execute any attack. The most common cyberattack in a large corporation is phishing—people are all too willing to provide information without first checking the origination. People who work in companies operate on autopilot, running their daily programs, usually without interruption, and in order to avoid a runtime error, people will click a link, enter their password, and by then, they have you.”**

We were all quiet for a moment and Elliot looked a bit surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what he just said aloud.

“Excellent answer, Mr. Alderson,” JaLeah said, narrowing her eyes and nodding, still mulling over Elliot’s response. “If only we knew how to prevent human error—but I supposed that would be a billion-dollar answer,” she finished, flashing him a smile.

He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a tiny smile in response.

That was the only real glimpse of Elliot’s personality we got for the rest of the interview, but he absolutely nailed the task, finding each vulnerability we set up in our system and fixing it in record time.

“Do you have any questions for us, Mr. Alderson?” I asked as we closed out the interview.

“I’ve already found out everything I needed to know,” Elliot replied, his eyes meeting and holding my gaze.

I smirked and nodded.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Mr. Alderson. You’ll hear from HR within 24 hours, either way,” I said as I hit the intercom.

“Please see Mr. Alderson out, Jayne.”

Elliot left as nervously as he entered, not bothering with any attempt at casual conversation to make his interview a bit more memorable.

As soon as the office door clicked shut, Colin leaned back in his chair and said, “No way. Guy’s weird.”

“Weird?” I questioned. “Since when is being nervous the same as being ‘weird’?”

“He didn’t make eye contact with me once—and not like in an ‘on the spectrum way.’ More like, he has a secret and no one can know it way. I’m not trying to be a dick—I just got a bad vibe.”

“Well, you are being a dick,” I said. “There are a thousand reasons why people struggle with eye contact, Colin. Don’t stereotype. Give me something factual if you really didn’t like him for the position.”

“And I remember a time when you couldn’t look me in the eye, Colin,” JaLeah said, her dark eyes flashing.

Colin rubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

“He didn’t elaborate on any of the questions—he spit back text-book answers on every one, except for JaLeah’s question about cyberattacks. I felt like he wasn’t hungry for this job—he acted like he didn’t really want it.”

I nodded my head.

“I wish he would have elaborated, too. However, I think his tech skills far outweigh any subpar people skills.”

“I agree with Y/N,” JaLeah said. “But I do see Colin’s point—remember when we had those interns? We ended up hiring Steph because she was able to build a rapport with everyone here. Granted, they all had about the same skill set, but her ability to communicate set her apart.”

“Doesn’t it also work in reverse, though--tech skills over people skills?”

Colin nodded in agreement. “It does.”

“So, let me make you both a deal: if any of the remaining candidates perform as well or better than Elliot Alderson on the task, we hire them. If not, we go with Alderson.”

“Works for me,” JaLeah said. “For the record, I did like him. He really spit some fire on that answer about human error.”

I smiled at JaLeah and nodded while Colin rolled his eyes.

“Alright—who’s up next?” he said, already accepting the idea that he was probably not going to win this one.

* * * * *

I closed my eyes and rolled my neck, listening to the bones pop and crunch. It was time to get up and take a lap around the office before the blood decided to pool in my calves and send me to an early grave.

It was nearly 8 pm, so when I saw the illumination of a computer screen reflected in a set of big grey eyes, I was a bit surprised. Elliot Alderson had accepted our offer and started at CIStech three weeks ago. He was proving to be an excellent engineer, and once he settled in, I wanted to assign him to the white hat team.

However, Colin saw fit to initiate a trial by fire and made Elliot the project manager for the development of a new code that could counter a DDoS flooding attack.

Colin may have done it to be an asshole, but I permitted it out of curiosity to see if my hire had what it took to climb. It was already clear that Elliot’s skills were unmatched. If he could pitch, he would be on the fast-track to becoming my boss one day.

When he saw me approach, his fingers immediately stilled and a look of apprehension crossed his features.

“Hey, Elliot. Working late?” I asked, surprised at the butterflies in my stomach as I initiated a conversation with him.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, Ms. Y/L/N. I didn’t realize how late it was,” Elliot said in his deep voice, his words rolling out in that gentle monotone.

“Y/N. It’s Y/N—we don’t do that Mr. and Ms. stuff once you’re hired. Call me crazy, but I like to think of all 50 or so of us as a family. Distant and dysfunctional, sure. But whose family isn’t?” I finished with an awkward chuckle at my own joke.

Elliot looked at me, his expression unreadable, and said nothing for what felt like an obscene amount of time. I’m certain my cheeks colored at my failed attempt at a joke and his subsequent silence. I began to feel an urgent need to fill the quietness with this almost-stranger I just called “family” when Elliot finally spoke.

“That’s . . . nice.”

I laughed and said, “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Elliot gave me a tiny smile, if you could even call the fleeting upturn of his lips before they drew back into a straight line a smile.

“No. I’m not.”

I thought for a few seconds, wanting my first one-on-one interaction with Elliot to be right. A thousand things to say barreled through my mind like Shanghai’s Maglev, and I saw Elliot’s attention turn back to his computer, his fingers twitching, probably wondering if it would be rude to go back to work.

“Do you know what I wish, Elliot?” I said, my words rushed as I reigned in the speeding train of my thoughts.

“No,” Elliot said, looking at me with genuine confusion.

“I wish we had a code we could input to just automatically cut out the bullshit of small talk. Imagine if our minds could input all of that information—we’d know right away whether or not a person was to our liking, whether they would be someone who could become our friend.”

Elliot looked at me, his eyes shining from the monitor in the dark of the office, his mouth a bit agape; he looked at me as if I were either the first human he’d ever seen or the last human he’d ever see—I couldn’t make up my mind on the former or the latter.

“Is that totally crazy?” I asked.

“It’s the least crazy thing I’ve ever heard,” Elliot said, his voice breaking with its normal monotone to convey honesty.

I smiled, and the butterflies in my stomach finally settled. I moved around Elliot’s desk and leaned on the edge. He scooted his chair back so he could angle it toward me, his hands fidgeting, unsure what to do without a keyboard underneath of them.

“I’m willing to pretend that code is real—we’ve scanned each other, determined we’re cool, and can now proceed along the route of friendship. At least, that’s what my data has output.”

Elliot grinned, and the fucking butterflies came back in full force. There was no part of my 8 pm afterwork self that was equipped to handle how damn good-looking this guy was.

“My data reads the same,” he said, his smile turning shy, his eyes flickering away from my face and toward the floor.

“Excellent. So, as emerging friends, I want to confess that, believe or not, I’m not much of a talker either.”

“I—I don’t think we are the same kind of not-talkers,” Elliot said, frowning up at me.

“Do me a favor. Tomorrow, pay attention after you pitch the DDoS counter plan. Once the pitch is out, everyone shoots off their own ideas and if they don’t have an original thought, they’ll turn to criticism. I won’t say a word—I never do.”

“Why?” Elliot asked, clearly interested because his response was immediate.

“Because I listen. People are so consumed by a need to have self-validation that they talk just to talk, hoping something that comes out of their mouth is what sparks someone else’s path to self-validation. It’s a . . . circle jerk, if you don’t mind me speaking in my ‘off the clock’ tongue.”

Elliot’s mouth had dropped open a little again as he listened, his brows drawn in as he gave it some thought—well, a lot of thought because once again, the silence bordered on oppressive before he spoke again.

“I thought people only said things like that inside their minds. Especially bosses.”

“Did I reveal an inherent human truth you were unaware of?”

Elliot chuckled, a gravelly rumble, and it was the cutest damn thing I had ever heard.

“No—I’ve thought the same thing for as long as I can remember.”

“See? Our data chose well. Now, do you want to sit there and tell me more about how unalike we are or are you ready to trust me enough to help you with whatever is plaguing you about pitching tomorrow?”

“How did you—” Elliot began before sighing and popping off of his chair to stalk over to the window. It took me by surprise that a little piece of his mask was so readily falling away.

I stayed where I was, even though his form was little more than a shadow that moved against the backdrop of the lighted city.

“I am not good with people,” Elliot said, his voice sounding harsh and too loud in the quiet office. “I don’t know how to talk to them one-on-one, so I sure as hell don’t know how to talk to them in a group. All I can think of when I get in front of anyone is how much of an idiot they think I am. I even typed up a letter of resignation,” Elliot said, his voice returning to its normal murmur with his confession.

This time, it was my turn to nurse the quiet. I thought about saying, Bullshit—you’re talking to me. You can do anything you put your mind to! But Elliot wasn’t someone who needed a pep-talk. He was deeper than that—probably even deeper than I could ever comprehend. “I’m not gonna bullshit you. You could walk out of here and get hired just about anywhere in any one of these buildings with your skill set. But I’d like to believe that you care, maybe just a little, that I am the one who extended you an offer—gave you a shot at your first ‘real’ job. So, yeah, you can run. But you’ll hurt my feelings if you do.” Whatever Elliot was expecting me to say, it wasn’t that. He walked back to stand in front of me and he blinked those big eyes that were once again a reflection of the light blue of the desktop.

“You don’t even know me enough to be affected by anything I do. I’m just another cog in the wheel.” I thought we were on a path to friendship, but if this was Elliot’s response to my admission I cared about whether or not he quit, I knew he was hiding, deep, deep inside of himself. “What makes you think you’re unworthy of general human concern? You are human, aren’t you?” I said, once again making an awkward joke for myself to softly laugh at. “I—I didn’t mean that I—" “Careful, Elliot. You intrigue me. And when people intrigue me, I have to figure them out. Have to.”

Elliot took off toward the window again, pacing as he struggled to convey his fear.

“Like I said, I’m not much of a talker and I’m not very good with people. I can do anything with a computer, but people. I just . . . can’t.”

“Mmm, until I see a T-800 running around and declaring “I’ll be back,” I will disagree with you that you can do ‘anything’ with a computer.”

Elliot stopped pacing and turned to face me, his head comically turned to the side as he decided whether or not to finally laugh at one of my jokes.

This time, he did laugh, a soft little chuckle as he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pants’ pockets.

“Let me make you an offer—”

“An offer I can’t refuse?”

I giggled and shook my head.

“Yes! He jokes! We really are on the path to friendship. . . which means, I want to help you: Fill me in on the details of what you’ve designed, and we can practice. Come on—we’ll go in the meeting room.”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You did not ask. I gave you a command. All you have to do is type Y,” I said in a sing-song voice, smiling before pushing off the edge of his desk and walking toward the meeting room.

I turned after a moment to see Elliot grab his laptop and follow me.

When we crossed the office to the meeting room, I paused with my hand on the door.

“Actions help us believe what our minds have convinced us not to believe—if I truly thought you were nothing more than a cog, would I give my time to you? Tell me—what’s more valuable than time?”

Elliot didn’t answer me. Instead, he smiled at me, his expression conveying his gratitude.

I turned the knob and walked toward the sofa, plopping onto the cushion.

“So, fill me in.”

* * * * *

Elliot and I passed many nights like this, and I quickly realized Elliot wasn’t going to follow in my footsteps and climb up the management ladder. After his DDoS proposal, Colin followed my recommendation and moved Elliot to the white hat hackers, a small team of ten. The white hats worked a little more in isolation than the other techs, which is what Elliot wanted.

So, we worked. We talked. We listened. We ate too much take-out and spent too many late hours at the office.

Our data was compatible, which would be Elliot-speak for saying, “We became friends.”

***Present***

“Elliot! Elliot, what happened?” I asked as I dropped to my knees and rolled him the rest of the way onto his back.

His eyes snapped open and darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me. Elliot scooted away and backed up to the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and crossing his arms over his legs. He looked like a trapped, feral animal, trying to make itself as small as possible to avoid capture.

I noticed the cuts and the trails of blood that smeared across his hands, and I saw that there was blood on the floor where he had been laying. As I looked him over, I also saw a gash across his forehead that ran into his hairline. Blood was still trickling down the side of his face.

“Elliot,” I said again in a soft, calm voice.

He still didn’t react; instead, he looked around the room and started mumbling, thumping the back of his head off the wall.

I got up and quickly moved to drop down in front of him, placing my hand between his head and the wall. It looked like he already had a concussion and I didn’t want him to hurt himself anymore.

“Elliot. Hey. It’s Y/N. You’ve gotta focus, sweetheart. Focus on my voice.”

I kept repeating myself in the same soothing tone. After a few moments, I slowly reached out and grasped his shoulder, running my thumb over the material of his light grey dress shirt.

Slowly, Elliot stopped moving his head and his eyes stopped darting. I still had no idea what he was mumbling and if it weren’t for the vibrations of his chest and the very subtle movements of his lips, I wouldn’t have known he was speaking.

When Elliot finally fixed his eyes on my face, his brows contracted into confusion.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice raspy, like someone who had been talking too loudly over music or who had smoked too many cigarettes in a night.

“Hey,” I said smiling and removing my hand from his shoulder.

“Shit! The servers!” Elliot said, and tried to dart up, but I held him back.

“No. Don’t move. Your head is bleeding and so are your hands. I need to get you to a hospital.”

Once again Elliot’s eyes began to look everywhere but my face and he tried to scramble up. This time, he broke free from my grasp and I found myself flat on my ass as he bolted up from the floor.

He didn’t get very far because after about three steps he swooned and crashed into one of the broken servers. I scrambled to my feet and helped him sit back down on the floor.

“See? Hospital. Now.”

This time Elliot looked right at me, his eyes filled with tears as he begged me not to take him to a hospital. The display of pure emotion was a shock for me—even though Elliot and I spent a lot of time together, he was always very careful in his interactions and remained emotionally distant. To see him so vulnerable made me rethink my insistence.

“Shh, okay. Okay. Listen—I don’t know if you’re concussed or what, but can you tell me anything about what happened? Or when this happened? If the tapes never went out. . .” I trailed off, unable to even imagine the repercussions.

“The courier left at 4:48.”

I raised my eyebrow at Elliot’s precise answer.

“Okaaaay.”

“I remember the time because—” Elliot broke off and looked away.

“Because why?”

“That’s when they locked me in here,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the buzzing of the air conditioning that kept the server room so cool.

My phone rang, startling both of us. As I talked, Elliot retreated further into himself again, his knees pressed to his chest once more, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

“Yes, I’m at work, Miles.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah.”

“We definitely have a problem, but everything’s been backed up—the tapes were couriered out this afternoon.”

“No—you don’t need to come in.”

“Uh, it’s a problem with the a few of the servers themselves, some broken parts. Listen, I promise—I’ll take care of it and everything will be up and running on Tuesday like nothing ever happened.”

“You’re welcome—enjoy your night.”

“I will. Bye.”

I hung up the phone and stood up, leaving Elliot to himself for a moment. I surveyed the damage that was apparently done by Elliot himself. My mind couldn’t even grasp the idea that people I supervised, many of whom I had hired myself, would do something so inhumane.

It was no secret that people avoided Elliot, even his white hat teammates—he was closed off, smarter than most of them, and worked harder than all of them. I wasn’t blind to the way he was he treated, but I also knew him in a different way; I knew he kept to himself because it was so difficult for him to socialize with people he considered strangers.

I also knew Elliot didn’t mean to do this.

After I surveyed the damage, I began thinking outloud, “Towers 2, 3, 6, and 7 are fucking toast, but the rest are untouched. I need to synchronize the traffic to the secondary servers and synch the databases. Since it’s Memorial Day weekend, the traffic is light enough that no real damage should have been done. I have a friend who might be able to get us new towers.”

Elliot was watching me as I talked and figured out how to fix his mess.

“I can—” he began, but I cut him off.

“I have to tell them how this happened, Elliot. I’m not making any promises, but if I can fix it by Tuesday morning, you might be able to keep your job. And I can promise you, the fucking assholes that did this to you won’t.”

Elliot looked to the floor again, his face filled with sadness.

“Sit—do not move while I grab some papertowels and ice.”

Elliot gave me a barely perceptible nod, and I went off to gather what I needed to ice his head and clean up the blood.

When I came back, Elliot was sitting at the desk in the server room, his fingers poking over the keys on the keyboard.

“Damnit, Elliot! I said not to move.”

“This is all my fault. I have to fix it. I have to fix it. I have to—”

I cut him off by lifting his arms away from the keyboard and scooting the rolling chair back. Elliot turned his bloodshot eyes to mine, the rims lined with red and I wondered if he’d been crying.

I sighed and placed my hands on both of his shoulders.

“This is not your fault,” I said firmly, my eyes flickering between his, refusing to release him from my gaze until he listened to me.

Elliot opened his mouth, then closed it, choosing not to fight me.

“Hold this on your head,” I said, tearing my eyes from his face, and reaching for the ice pack I had set on the desk.

Elliot complied, and I turned back to the desk to finish synchronizing the servers. Once I was done, I wiped up the blood on the floor with the wet papertowels, then unplugged the damaged servers.

“Now, let’s get out of here. Your head is still bleeding,” I said as I made a final lap to check for damage.

I helped Elliot up by wedging my hand under his elbow, careful to avoid his fucked up hands. For a moment, the two of us were face-to-face. His eyes lifted up to look into mine and I sighed, reaching up to grasp his chin and turn his head to look at the gash.

“Head wounds are the worst. Never can tell how deep they are,” I whispered, looking closely at his cut.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know, El. Come on.”

Elliot followed me out of the server room and I locked the door. After throwing away the bloodied papertowels in the bathroom, I came out to see Elliot at his desk, struggling into his hoodie, hissing as his bleeding and bruised hands slid through the fabric.

“I’ll get your backpack,” I said as I approached and reached under his desk to pull it out. “Is there anything else you need?”

Elliot shook his head no and I shrugged into his backpack. He stayed close as I set the alarm and waited for the elevator, neither one of us wanting to talk.

“Good night, Lance,” I called toward the front desk as I kept walking.

“Eh, Ms. Y/L/N? Do you need me to call—”

“Nope—all is well! Sorry you’re stuck here tonight, though,” I said with a wave.

“Me, too,” Lance answered, chuckling a little.

I led Elliot to the passenger door of my SUV, opening it and then waiting for Elliot to get in. Once I made sure he was settled, I shut the door and opened up the back door to take off his backpack and place it onto the seat.

I got in, buckled up, and put the key in the ignition. The radio started belting out the Britney Spears song I was rocking to on the way in, and I quickly turned it down after Elliot and I both jumped.

“Now you know my darkest secret,” I said shaking my head.

Elliot looked at me, the hint of the smallest smile in the universe turning up one corner of his mouth.

“I’m taking you to my place and I don’t want an argument. I have a friend who is a PA and I’m going to call her. She’s going to look at your head and if she says you need to go to the hospital, you are going to go. Is that clear?”

Elliot frowned and his eyes looked to the door as if he was contemplating whether or not he could escape.

I quickly put the SUV in gear and swerved out into the street to prevent him from making a move.

“Ok,” he said quietly, knowing he had no other choice.

#Elliot Alderson #elliot alderson x reader #female reader #elliot x reader #elliot alderson fanfic #rami malek #rami malek character #mr robot #mr robot fanfiction

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preneurannex · 4 years

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*ROLLS-ROYCE ANNOUNCES NEW BRAND IDENTITY* *- 25.08.2020!* By: Emma Rickett @rollsroycecars Rolls-Royce announces new brand identity further modernising the marque New identity continues Rolls-Royce's journey from automotive manufacturer to House of Luxury. New visual language will resonate with younger demographic of clients Leading design agency Pentagram appointed to envision new Rolls-Royce identity, to be rolled out from September. *"Take the Best that Exists and Make it Better".* Since these words were spoken by the marque's co-founder, *Sir Henry Royce*, Rolls-Royce has experienced evolutionary change, from the creator of the *‘Best Car in the World’, to the world’s leading House of Luxury.* The company’s products are today revered as exemplary examples of hand-craftsmanship, born from the finest materials and honed with masterful skill, while the brand and its illustrious figurine, the Spirit of Ecstasy, have become icons for the very best and truest examples of their kind. Indeed, Rolls-Royce, is, a synonym for luxury. In recent years, Rolls-Royce has experienced change at a quicker rate than ever before in its storied past. The Rolls-Royce portfolio has expanded to five models, each with their own distinct character, and almost every motor car created at the marque’s Global Centre of Luxury Manufacturing Excellence in Goodwood, West Sussex, is Bespoke – tailored to the lifestyle requirements of diverse and discerning patrons. The introduction of *Black Badge*, the marque's alter-ego, has met the needs of a subset of these clients, answering their call for an edgier, alternative Rolls-Royce, one that carries an assertive and dominant persona. With such choice, it is no surprise, therefore, that the age and demographic of the marque’s clients have decreased significantly to an average of just 43. To be contd. #thinkbigwithwalter #thankyou #rollsroyce #carsinstagram #autodealership #auto #billionairesclub #millionairemindset #millionairemind #billionaire #billionaireboysclub #luxurylifestyle #luxury #carswithoutlimits https://www.instagram.com/p/CEdNligpjI4/?igshid=oed4fmeye4ly

#thinkbigwithwalter #thankyou #rollsroyce #carsinstagram #autodealership #auto #billionairesclub #millionairemindset #millionairemind #billionaire #billionaireboysclub #luxurylifestyle #luxury #carswithoutlimits

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no-d4y-but-tod4y · 4 years

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A continuation of the first kiss fic! Unfortunately I’m on mobile so I don’t think you can link to posts, but Part One is called Close Encounters if anyone fancies having a nosey.

What else do you do during this quarantine. Enjoy!

———

A Talk In The Morning

Alma woke up late that morning.

Her mind had not stopped racing enough for her to fall asleep for hours. It was as if a broken film reel played endlessly inside her head, producing pictures and words and thoughts and feelings all at once with no chronological sense or obvious pattern. They moved too fast for her to comprehend all of them, but the general gist of her imagination last night boiled down to this:

I kissed Frankie.

I mean it certainly took long enough.

Frankie kissed me.

It was even more amazing than I thought he would be.

We kissed.

I really like him.

I really really really like him.

What the fuck do I do now.

Eventually her mental and physical fatigue became too much and she drifted off with a pleasant knot in her stomach and a big dumb grin on her face.

But that was last night. Everything looked different in the daylight.

Alma decided she’d better get up and dressed. Today’s itinerary didn’t start until noon, but these hours of free time were obviously supposed to be used for networking with the other patrons, showcasing your own portfolio and achievements, and generally just a chance to make a good first impression. More fool any overnight guest who used the late start as an excuse to stay in bed.

Ignoring the urge to tear out of her room to find him, Alma took her time getting ready. She showered, dried her hair properly rather than towelling off the excess and letting plaits a la Pippi Longstocking do the rest, and stood in front of the wardrobe still wrapped in a fluffy towel.

She had packed all of her best outfits - after all, she wanted to look smart - but now, even the one or two designer pieces in her collection looked shabby. What would Frank be wearing? The image was vivid in her mind, surrounded by the luxury of his private suite.

Perhaps he’d go more male coded, with a velvet blazer over a white shirt with a ruffled collar tucked into a pair of high waisted trousers - she pictured pleather but couldn’t be sure - complete with a pair of black crocodile printed patent leather boots. He would tame his hair just a bit, but not so as to lose his distinctive curls. She saw him using a cane, retratctable with a large brass bulb fixed atop the handle. He’d have enourmous fun with that. tapping shyer guests on the nose, twirling it like a baton and making it seem alive with the skill with which he danced with it, and inevitably thwacking various guests on their backsides.

Or maybe he’d take advantage of a wonderfully new group of people to shock, and lean towards his signature habits to the extreme. A rich black corset fitted as tight as Frank’s organs would allow, blinding to its spectators with thousands upon thousands of Swarovski crystals. A few tassels probably wouldn’t go amiss, unless the hotel proprietor owned any cats. Meshed gloves to match, frilled delicately at the cuffs to match the fishnet stockings everyone knew so well. Frank didn’t strike Alma as the type to treat complete strangers with an entirely new wardrobe, so perhaps he would wear thigh high boots with this look. Shiny, dagger-like, ridiculous. She hoped he’d brought his fringed jacket with all his personal decorations. She especially liked the Union Jack flag on the back. If he slung that on over his arms he’d probably wear a cap. Pseudo-pilot style. Leather, of course, studded, complete with a glinting badge on the front, sporting crimson lipstick marks and reading “SEXY”.

She liked that hat.

But never mind the drool - what about her?

Keep it simple, she thought to herself. Don’t try so hard.

She pulled a black ribbed polarneck over her head, layered underneath a pretty blush pink pinafore dress. A pair of black tights and comfortable suede ankle boots and that was all she needed.

She spritzed some of Frank’s favourite perfume across her neck and collarbone.

Someone knocked at the door. A familiar voice trilled ‘Housekeeping!’

Her heart leapt. She bolted across the room and opened the door before she could even think about playing it cool.

Frank gave her the warmest smile when she opened the door. It made her glow from the inside out. ‘Hello, darling.’ She stood there, not quite sure what to say. Still mesmerised. ‘I brought you breakfast. May I come in?’

She stepped back immediately, letting Frank pull a small maids cart on wheels behind him like a suitcase. The cart was full of all her favourites. Pancakes, waffles, cereals, toast, fruit, cheese, preservatives and conserves and of course heaping piles of chocolate pastries.

Frank unloaded all the food onto the table in the corner of the room with cutlery, drinking glasses and warm plates. The sustenance also included orange and cranberry juice (though not in the same bottle) breakfast tea bags and instant coffee.

Alma ventured closer to the table - closer to him - to look at the spread. ‘Frankie...you brought all of this for me?’

‘Why of course I did, sunshine!’ When Frank moved quickly, his hair didn’t look attached. It followed along behind him like a video game lag, giving the impression that he wore a wig. Don’t be shy now, have whatever you like.’

‘I’ll never be able to eat all of this.’

‘I’ll take whatever’s left back downstairs.’ He giggled. ‘I stole it from there anyway. Tuck in then, before it gets cold.’

‘Frankie, I...you’ve set the table for two.’

She couldn’t believe it had taken her that long to cotton on.

He made an elaborate gesture of turning back to the table and pretending to appear surprised. ‘You know darling you’re absolutely right. Why ever did I do that?’ He made himself comfortable and tucked a napkin into the front of his top (her suspicions had been only half right. He wore a mid bust corset under a sheer long sleeved top, dark, and embellished with rhinestones, with the classic stockings and high heels. It would have looked tacky on anyone else, and in the right lighting Alma could see his nipples) and fanned it out over his chest like a bib.

He extended his arm out towards her, palm upturned. Long arms into long hands into long fingers. Another dashing smile.

She’d only kissed the man once and was already hopelessly in love with him.

‘I suppose we’ll just have to eat together.’

All of a sudden she finally snapped out of her trance and found herself moving again. Right towards him with no fear or insecurity or inhabition. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting on his lap and kissing him before she realised it. At least he was kissing her back.

Even so she jerked away, surprised at herself.

‘I’m sorry Frankie I shouldn’t-.’

‘Shh. Don’t.’ He placed his fingers over her mouth and traced the shape of her lips soothingly, stroking her neck and shoulders with his other hand. She wished she wouldn’t tremble so much.

He could peel the pinafore from her frame and the rest of he wanted to, and she would let him, but they both knew it wouldn’t come to that. Yet.

She wanted to cup his face or stroke his hair, start returning the favour for all those other times. Having Frank touching her was not a new thing: a very tactile and physical person, he was always holding her close, stroking her hair, kissing her knuckles and very occasionally caressing her face. Always careful, always gentle. But despite the obvious reciprocation, this was still strange and frightening.

‘You can touch me, darling, it’s okay.’

She suppressed a whimper. How did he do that?

He gently grasped her wrist and brought her hand up to his face, leaning into her palm. For a moment, he sighed and closed his eyes.

‘See?’ He murmured, turning his face to kiss her palm. ‘Five fingers still in tact.’ He squeezed her hand and smiled at her. ‘Go on now, budge up. Can’t very well enjoy the most important meal of the day like this.’

Alma moves away and sat opposite him, not that she wanted to. At least her hands had stopped shaking.

She had to at least try to eat, although her stomach was already full with knots. There were so many thoughts screaming and running around in Alma’s brain that she didn’t even know what she didn’t know. But Frank has gone to so much trouble to keep his word and protect her privacy at the same time, the least she could do was enjoy it. Even if she did have to watch Frank slather his toast in Marmite.

In the end, they managed to eat about half of it. One small nibble of toast made her suddenly ravenous, and she packed away more than she expected. Three pancakes, two rounds of toast, a chocolate crossaint a slice of watermelon and three glasses of orange juice more, in fact.

Frank plucked a gleaming red apple from the selection of fruit and took a large bite. Looked at her for a while, chewing.

‘Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw this at someone?’

Willpower gone, she just fell about laughing. It felt good to get a rush of emotion out, even if it was hysterical giggling.

‘Oh Frankie I’m so full up.’ Alma sighed, leaning back in her chair and pushing her plate away from her. ‘I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.’

‘Mm. I think you’re right there, sunshine.’ Frank patted his stomach. What stomach, Alma scoffed, he didn’t have a stomach. He could eat anything and have it go right through. He had a body akin to chiseld marble. ‘Here, darling, you wash the glasses and I’ll take this outside.’ She leapt up and gathered the glasses and cups in her arms as Frank stacked the plates and stored them in the cart.

She precariously carried the dishes over to the sink and turned on the water. She hoped she hadn’t been staring.

After cleaning the utensils and wiping down the surfaces, Frank came back in, which surprised her, and collapsed onto the sofa with a relieved grown. She stayed by the sink, unsure whether she was allowed to go to him or not. Weren’t they supposed to be back downstairs?

‘Are you planning to stand there all day?’

She cursed to herself under her breath. Frank really did have eyes in the back of his head.

‘Come here, darling. I don’t bite.’

She crossed the open plan area and stepped over Frank’s legs - thank heavens she didn’t catch her foot and trip over them - and perched on the cushion beside him.

‘Oh for the love of-.’ Frank hoisted Alma on to his lap and adjusted her legs so she was straddling his waist. ‘There.’ He grinned and tapped her on the nose. ‘Isn’t that better?’

She was so overcome she didn’t say anything. Her face was on fire. She must have looked really attractive.

Frank sighed, a little exasperated. ‘You mustn’t be so bashful, sunshine. What is it? Hmm? Don’t you want to be close to me?’

‘No, that’s not it. I just-.’

‘See, you won’t even touch me now. Put your arms around my neck and see what happens.’

She did, and shuffled a bit closer. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, rather than leaving them danglng in mid air and having her feet go to sleep.

‘See? Easy, isn’t it?’

She chuckled softly but didn’t say anything.

‘Are you embarrassed by me?’

She shook her head.

‘Do I frighten you?’

‘No.’

He cupped her cheek in his hand and she instinctively leaned into his palm. She loved the feeling of his smooth skin and long fingers, particularly when he stroked her cheek gently with his thumb.

‘You like me.’

She took hold of his wrist to keep him there. Her voice would not give a straight answer.

‘Alma, you can’t keep staring at me in silence. You have to tell me what you’re thinking.’ He exhaled gently, the familiar smell of him muddling with her comprehension. ‘Do you want to take things further with me?’

She couldn’t look at him. She nodded.

When Frank spoke, his voice was incredibly soft. ‘Then what’s stopping you? It’s almost like you’re scared to admit it.’

‘I am,’ she whispered. Keeping her gaze firmly on Frank’s knees, she continued, ‘I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how. Everyone will know. And they’ll wonder. And they’ll stare. No one would believe someone like you would choose to be with someone like me. I’ll ruin it, I know I will. Once you get to know me properly you’ll realise you made a mistake. I won’t be what you thought you wanted, I won’t be able to satisfy you in the way you need, I won’t be what you deserve. You deserve so much better. And I certainly don’t deserve you. I’m too anxious, I’m too intimidated, I’m too average. You’re intelligent and attractive and confident, in nothing like that. Nothing like you, even though I wish I was. There’s an entire world of people who’d fall over each other to get to you and it can’t be the right decision for you settle for me.’

They sat in silence for a few moments.

Frank gently pushed her head down to his shoulder and stroked her hair soothingly. He rocked her in his lap like a baby, and his lips caressed her hair when he spoke.

‘You already know I don’t understand why you think like that. But you forgot to mention one other thing.’

Alma could barely hear her own voice. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You forgot to ask me what I want.’ He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. ‘And believe it or not, sunshine...I want you.’

She buried her face in the crook of his neck and tried her hardest not to cry.

‘Come on, sit up. Let me look at you.’

She hid her face behind her hands. ‘I can’t...’

‘No, don’t cry,’ Frank said rather firmly. ‘You can, you’re just feeling a little overwhelmed.’ He wiped away the tears as they fell all the same. ‘What do you need, my darling? Would you like me to come back later?’

She shook her head resolutely. She managed a feeble, ‘Stay,’ and burst into floods of tears.

‘Oh, sunshine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He peppered her in gentle kisses, hushed her, reasoned with her but nothing seemed to be working. He couldn’t work out whether she was overcome with tears of joy or utter dismay that a weirdo like him had fallen for her. ‘Okay, darling, come on. That’s enough now.’ He stood up, hoisting her to his waist and plonking her into her own seat. He got some tissues and a glass of water and knelt down in front of her. ‘There we go, try and calm down now. You can blow your nose in this but don’t give it back.’ She managed a tearful giggle and he smiled warmly in return.

‘I’m sorry Frankie I just-.’

‘Shh. None of that, darling. I know.’ He winked reassuringly. ‘Now, it’s completely up to you whether you want to stay and finish the day, or you want to go home. I don’t want you getting over-excited.’

She sniffed. ‘I want to stay with you.’

‘You won’t get in trouble if you leave early.’

‘I want to stay,’ she repeated, much firmer this time.

‘Alright, darling.’ He reached out and stroked her hair behind her ear, running hid hand down to the back of her neck and grazing his nails over the skin there. ‘May I kiss you?’

She let him kiss her on the mouth. She responded with an endearing level of gentle tenderness. Like she was afraid of hurting him. He was delighted to discover she had own endearingly shy way of showing romantic affection.

They sat together with their foreheads touching.

‘You have a bit of mascara on your face.’

She laughed and pushed him away from her to go to the bathroom. When she emerged having pulled herself together, Frank offered his outstretched hand.

‘Come on then, darling,’ he said. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

#my writing #my fic #my favourite obsession #selfship #selfshipping #selfship community #self shipping community #self ship fic #f/o #f/o fic #angst #romance #i WILL get better at writing during this quarantine #i will practice and form a routine and develop writing habits and an audiecne and become a better writer #putting it out into the universe

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