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roosterforme · 5 months

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The Intern Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Five minutes into an interview with you, and Bradley knew he was in trouble. You were attractive, funny and smart, and now the summer was stretching out before him like an obstacle course he would have to navigate carefully. At least a visit from an old friend should be enough to help him work through his frustrations.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut and masturbation (eventually 18+)

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

When Bradley got to the Avio headquarters the following morning, he rode the elevator up to his office. He'd already eaten breakfast, gone for a long run and taken a shower, and he was still one of the first ones here. Except for Judy. He smiled when her desk came into view as he turned toward his office door. She was sweet, and it scared him a little bit how much she reminded him of his mom. She was a widow with one son in college, and Bradley would be lost without her.

"Morning," she said, handing him his mail as he walked past without her even looking up at him. "You have a very busy day, and I already turned on your coffee maker."

He really needed to give her another raise. "Thanks, Judy. Hey, what time is that interview I have?" he asked, flipping through the stack of envelopes in his hand.

Now she looked up from her computer and met his eyes. "Nine o'clock. And it's Ted's daughter."

"I know," he replied with a small smile.

"Do you really think she would be a good fit? You'll be working on the yacht for weeks, and all she has is a graduate degree and a daddy with a bankroll." She handed him your résumé with a concerned look.

He shrugged as he skimmed the page again. "She has some related work experience. She volunteered to run the finances for a handful of Philadelphia based charities every year. Her references include the Philadelphia deputy mayor. But you're right, she's pretty green. I'll take this with me," he said as he held the résumé up and headed for his door. "Let me know when she arrives."

"Will do," Judy muttered.

Bradley made himself another cup of coffee before he settled into his seat. His office had a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance along with the Naval base at North Island where he'd spent several years working. Sometimes he missed it, other times he didn't. Flying was in his blood, but after five air-to-air kills, it seemed like he'd given up enough of his soul to the Navy. Now he was helping oversee the design of software components that would help keep aviators safer in the air.

He turned his gaze from the view outside back to your resume. Your name at the top made him smile, and the more he read about you, the more he liked. None of the other people begging him for a job in his department had the same level of academic chops or philanthropic endeavors you did. And he couldn't imagine you begging for a single damn thing, ever. He tapped his keyboard, wondering what your LinkedIn profile looked like.

Well. Your photo was gorgeous. It was professional looking without a doubt, but he knew better now that the way your smile tilted a little higher on one side meant you were about to deliver a line that would make him laugh. He wondered if you'd had the photographer smiling nonstop, too.

Bradley paused with his fingers on his keyboard, but he couldn't help it. He typed your full name into the search bar and sorted it by images. There were more headshots of you from academic articles and a few newspapers, but when he scrolled he almost spit his coffee out. There was one of you wearing that same bikini you had on yesterday. When he clicked it for more, it took him to your private instagram page.

He stared at that tiny thumbnail before he closed his eyes. Really, the way you looked wasn't why he asked you to come here today, and he'd spent a good portion of last evening trying to focus on anything other than how it felt to have your body pressed against his while he held you.

"Fuck," he grunted. He really needed to get laid. He made another mental note next to the one about Judy's raise. He would call one of his friends with benefits and get that taken care of, because if you agreed to join him for a couple months on the company yacht, he'd probably see that bikini again and again. And there was no way he could touch Ted's daughter. Not like that. Even if he wanted to.

And that thought brought him back to the main reason you would be here in the next few minutes. What kind of information could he get out of you? Bradley noticed that the profit and loss sheets from several departments didn't seem to add up. That had been the case for two quarters in a row. When he mentioned it to one of the harried looking accountants one floor down, he told Bradley they wouldn't have time to run an unnecessary audit before next quarter started.

Someone in this company was doing something shady, and Bradley wanted to know who it was and why. He'd gone over those numbers for days, double checking his math. He knew he wasn't crazy, but he didn't know who he could safely take this information to, especially when the specs on the software they were creating was considered top secret.

"Your interview is here," Judy's voice suddenly announced through his intercom.

Bradley quickly closed out of the photo of you in a bathing suit that was still on his screen and slammed his laptop shut. "Send her in."

A few seconds later, Judy was holding the door open for you, and you thanked her as you strolled in like you owned the company. Your hair was styled in some sort of clip, and you were wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. Bradley shook his head; it was rich that you called him out for his proclivity for Armani when yours was probably worth three times as much. His gaze drifted down your legs. Your black and white heels were the kinds of things he would love to have thrown over his shoulders in bed, and the bit of white silk peeking out above your jacket buttons reminded him of your skimpy pajamas.

Inviting you here was a terrible idea.

You smirked as you ran your right index finger along the charm from Tiffany's that hung from your necklace, and then you reached out to shake his hand over his desk. "Mr. Bradshaw. So lovely to see you again today." Your voice was playful, and Bradley gestured for you to take a seat while he tried his best to gather his thoughts.

"I was a little afraid you'd show up in your bathing suit," he said, and you nodded as you crossed your legs and set your leather portfolio on your lap.

"I can certainly understand the cause for that concern," you replied, not missing a beat. "However, I promise you'll see nothing but Armani suits from here on out if I end up coming to the office every day. Now what would you have me do for you all summer? Fetch your coffee? Give you the abridged version of the Wall Street Journal? Sit in on pointless meetings in the conference room across the hallway?"

"That's just it," he said, tilting his head to the side and taking in your neutral expression. He hardly knew what to do with the fact that you made him feel warm and slightly uncomfortable when you were being sassy. "We wouldn't be here at all. And actually, you could wear your bathing suit and swim half the time for all I cared."

Your eyes lit up immediately as you leaned closer to his desk. "This sounds like a trap, but please, carry on. Tell me more."

He chuckled as he moved a little closer to you as well. "I'm being tasked with taking a few weeks to a couple months on the company yacht in the Mediterranean. I have the technical knowledge as well as the access to arrange meetings with members of Avio's European sales team to close some deals. This is all top secret information, but since you've got the right connections, I'll go ahead and tell you that the US government has given us the greenlight to sell our software to a select list of countries."

You licked your lips, and Bradley could barely focus as you said, "So you'll be the one calling all the shots. And you need to have access to some of these countries to schedule meetings and dinners and cocktail parties. You'll be working from the yacht in much the same capacity you are currently working from your office, still expected to head the research department here. But you'll have the added workload of trying to answer questions and sell the software in Europe? Did I miss anything?"

Bradley's eyes went a little wide as he chuckled. "No. Not really."

You were smiling now. "This sounds like half work and half sorority party, and let me tell you, I am more than capable of making both of those things go as smoothly for you as possible."

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little raspy now. "But you'll have to put up with me. And some of these clients have been known to be a little difficult in... a variety of different ways." Bradley's mind drifted to last summer when he'd been on the yacht for a week as well as the summer before that. The wealthier a man becomes, the more he seems to think he could have whatever he wants, and Bradley had seen some wild shit. "But I'll do my best to keep you comfortable and safe. The workload will be intense, to say the least. But it'll all be happening on a one hundred and thirty foot superyacht."

You eyed him carefully. "This sounds like it was custom made for me, so you either want me or you don't, Mr. Bradshaw."

Bradley smiled, and his gaze followed your hand as you touched that pretty charm again. "Oh... I want you plenty. Something tells me yachts and Mediterranean vacations are something you simply grew up with. I'm just trying to sell myself now."

The way you laughed reminded him once again of that night in December when you asked him if he wanted to share a bottle of wine with you. "You're very persuasive, Mr. Bradshaw. I can practically smell the sunblock and taste the pasta from here." You bit your lip and considered him, and it felt to Bradley like you could see every flaw and indiscretion inside of him. "Where did you go to school anyway? Yale? Brown? No wait... you look like a Princeton boy to me."

He shook his head as he pointed to his college diploma on the wall. "I went to a state school."

You gasped, and your eyes went wide as you muttered, "Jesus," while you read it. "Political science? At the University of Virginia? Oh... you should be lying to people. I mean, at least say you went to Dartmouth."

Bradley tried and failed to hold in his laughter, because you truly looked scandalized by this turn of events. "Aww, come on, Ivy League. It's not so bad."

You sputtered with laughter, too. "Did you just call me Ivy League?"

"I sure did," he told you, still laughing. "It's about ten times nicer than what I was going to say."

Your soft gasp as your eyes positively lit up made Bradley's heart beat a little faster. "Well, what were you going to say?" you asked before biting your lip.

Shit. You were trouble, and you knew it. "Never mind. My lips are sealed. Can't say that to Ted's daughter."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "You're no fun right now, but I'm sure as soon as I get you loosened up in some Armani swim trunks on the yacht, you'll be an absolute pleasure for me to deal with."

The way Bradley's cock was twitching should have been warning enough. He was about to get in over his head. But all he could say was, "Does that mean you want the internship?"

Your smile tilted up a little higher on the one side. "Oh, absolutely." Then you stood before him looking like the cat who got the cream, and Bradley had to hope for the best as he stood as well. He could mark this as the first time he'd ever become slightly aroused during an interview, a sign that he desperately needed to get laid.

He shook your hand and said, "We leave in a few days. Judy will help you get your visas in order. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, Mr. Bradshaw."

The way you here still holding his hand and calling him Mr. Bradshaw left his voice barely louder than a rasp. "Judy and I will be in touch."

You turned and shot him a smile over your shoulder as you headed for his office door, and Bradley dropped back down in his chair. He'd call Callie about getting together to hook up before he left for Europe, but he had another more important call to make first. He cleared his throat as he opened his contacts and then put his phone on speaker. He was greeted with a familiar voice filled with laughter.

"Rooster! When are you going to get that yacht warmed up for me?"

Bradley just shook his head and said, "Hangman. You're not going to believe who my summer intern is."

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

You were floating on a raft in the pool wearing your second favorite bathing suit when you were greeted by the sound of your father's voice. "I sincerely hope you know what you're doing by wasting your time right now."

"Daddy," you greeted with a smile. "My day was a complete and utter success."

He checked his watch as he said, "Please, elaborate."

You had the trump card, but you knew all too well what it would be like if you didn't. Instead of lecturing you like you could tell he wanted to, he smiled when you said, "I have a job."

"Where?"

"Avio."

He nodded in appreciation as he said, "I am actually impressed right now. You managed to secure an internship at the company I've spent decades with, and you did so without me knowing anything about it. Which department?"

"Research and development," you replied smoothly.

His eyes went wider. "With Bradley Bradshaw?"

Your tummy swooped, and you sucked in a breath at the mere mention of his name. Spending weeks working with him and entertaining guests with him was going to be... well, something. "Yes. With Bradley Bradshaw."

"Sweetheart," your father said. "He had a career in the Navy."

"Yes. He was an aviator," you recalled from his Avio bio.

"That means he's not going to put up with any nonsense. You don't make him repeat himself, and you don't give him attitude. I'll know immediately if he's displeased with you, I'm sure."

Bradley didn't seem stuffy. He'd already encouraged you to pack your bathing suits. Hell, you were determined to get him to join you in some fun. "Well maybe not immediately as he and I will be on the Avio yacht in the Mediterranean."

Your father stared at you, speechless. Finally he said, "I really don't know how you managed to get exactly what you wanted, but I applaud you, Sweetheart. Well done. I know it sounds fun, but you'll be kept very busy. I hope you know what you're in for."

When he finally wandered back inside after you promised to join him for dinner, you soaked up the last few rays of the dying sunlight. Then you made a mental list of everything you needed to spend the next few days packing as you brushed up on your French and Italian. "J'adore mon travail. Amo il mio lavoro. I love my job."

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

Bradley was still chuckling as he got off the phone with Ted a few days later. Your father tried to warn him that you could be a bit of a handful. Like Bradley wasn't fully aware of that fact. As if he hadn't known since December. He could practically hear your disdain for his alma mater and your delight in international travel from his condo.

He was stacking his suits up in his extra bedroom along with several pairs of shoes, and he shook his head as he looked down at his swim trunks in his hands. They actually were all Armani, and you'd have a field day when you realized it. Or perhaps skinny dipping would become a thing?

Fuck. He needed to stop thinking about you like that. Callie Bassett was on her way over, so that should help alleviate some of this tension. He'd been friends with Halo for over a decade, and she had slowly and naturally turned into a friend with benefits over time. She was still in the Navy, and she was discreet. It was easier than having a girlfriend. It was all he had time for.

As he organized his suits, he remembered you told him he looked like a Princeton boy. He could just picture you with a parade of preppy assholes following you around, and he wondered if you ever slummed it with anyone like him before. It made him want to pack some of his casual clothes including his Virgina baseball cap and his worn out golf shorts. So he did.

Then his doorbell buzzed, and he went to let Callie in. He needed this taken care of right now. She smelled good, and she looked cute. She always did. And she wore something a little skimpy just for him. The kiss on his cheek in greeting quickly turned to her lips brushing his as she said, "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"Been busy," he replied, taking her by the hand and heading for his bedroom. "And I'm leaving for Portugal on Saturday."

"How long?" she asked, pouting a little bit as Bradley reached for the hem of her dress and eased it up and over her head in one fluid motion.

"Couple months," he whispered, taking in her soft, naked body with his gaze.

"Months?" she whined as he wrapped his hands around her waist and smirked at her.

"Don't even act like we are anything close to exclusive, Cal. Now... how do you want it?"

She licked her lips and looked up at him with those familiar dark eyes just as his phone rang in his pocket. He didn't hesitate or check the number; he never did. "Bradshaw."

"Hey, State School. I have a few questions for you."

Bradley froze with your voice in his ear and Callie's fingers on his zipper. He grunted softly as she eased it down and touched him. He just knew if he closed his eyes and listened to your voice, he'd probably finish in her hand within two minutes.

"Ivy League," he rasped, taking a step back away from Halo who was now standing before him completely naked and rolling her eyes.

"Are you busy?" you asked, and Bradley looked Halo in the eyes without remorse as he answered you.

"No. I'm not busy. I can talk." He held up one finger and zipped himself up as he left his bedroom in favor of his office. "As long as you tell me how you got this number."

You laughed as he sank down into his desk chair. "You think it's exclusive or something? Judy gave it to me. And it's probably listed on the company website."

Brat. He narrowed his eyes, adding a note to his mental list to make sure it was not listed on the company website. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, I'm packing and hoping for a little input from you."

"On Thursday night at nine?" he asked. "And don't you have a butler to help you with that?"

"Like you have anything else going on?"

Bradley thought about Callie waiting in his bedroom, but instead of ushering this call along, he asked, "What did you pack so far?"

You sighed. "Sixteen bathing suits, piles of lingerie, and sunglasses. And I'm only kind of kidding."

Fighting the urge to ask for more details, he said, "Unfortunately I can't let you wear any of that in front of potential clients. So throw in some suits and dresses."

"Some suits and dresses? You'll need to be a little bit more specific, Sir."

Sir.

That one word was echoing through his mind along with your bratty tone, and he had to take a deep breath. "Why don't you bring the suit you wore when I interviewed you? That looked good. And so did the dress you wore to your father's holiday party. The dark green one."

There was a pause before you said, "You remember what I wore to the party?"

"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "It looked nice. Pack some cocktail dresses, too."

"How many should I pack?"

"How many do you have?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Bradley laughed. "I'm sure you know better than I do what you should wear."

You scoffed. "You're acting like you've never spent a summer on the Avio yacht before."

"I haven't," he replied easily. "Just a few days here and there. I'm sure I'll be learning things from you."

"Then you'll be learning from the best."

He bit back a groan as he said, "That's what I'm counting on. That's why I hired you."

"I won't let you down," you promised, and Bradley believed you. "I'll see you at the airport on Saturday morning. Don't forget your swim trunks."

You ended the call before he could say another word, and now he was convinced you had called him simply because you could. If he was frustrated before, it was nothing compared to the way he felt now. Spending weeks on end with Ted's daughter was supposed to help him get to the bottom of the messy business with Avio, not cause other issues to arise.

He unzipped his pants, intent on touching himself, before jolting to his feet. "Shit," he muttered as he left his office and went back to his bedroom. "Cal?" he called out. "Sorry. It was a work call." But he was completely alone. He laughed as his phone vibrated in his hand with a text from her.

Have a great time in Europe. Don't bother calling me when you get back.

Bradley was sure he'd hear about this from his old friend Natasha when Callie bitched about him at work. But it didn't really matter. After she had a few weeks to cool off, she'd come back when he needed her again. For now, he'd take matters into his own hands and hope that would be enough.

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

Your father insisted upon seeing you off on Saturday morning which gave Bradley a few minutes alone with him. He was listening to Ted as he watched you struggle with your seven pieces of Dior luggage on the tarmac next to the chartered airplane.

"Bradley, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," your father told him with a laugh. "She's tenacious though. And whip smart. Make sure you challenge her, because she will certainly challenge you."

Now Bradley laughed as he shook Ted's hand. "I'll do my best."

"If she gets to be too much, just leave her in one of the marinas with her passport."

He would never do that to you. He doubted it would ever come to that. In fact, he was already impressed by the way you took care of things for yourself. Sure, you looked like you belonged in an ad for designer gym clothes with your leggings and soft hoodie zipped over your sports bra. But you were also taking your luggage from the back of the black Mercedes-Benz G-Class yourself.

"I can assure you that she and I will be just fine, Sir."

"What have I told you about calling me Ted?" Bradley received a friendly cuff on the shoulder before shaking his hand and turning toward you.

He picked up the last two pieces of your luggage at the same time and carried them to the cargo hold while you trailed after him. "I don't need help," you told him as he stowed them away. Then you added, "You look weird out of your Armani."

"I look weird?" he asked with a laugh as he glanced down at his chinos and Oxford shirt.

"A good kind of weird. Like when you wore that Fair Isle sweater last year."

Bradley examined your pretty face, and you didn't look away. He remembered the dress you wore to Ted's holiday party, and you remembered his sweater. Right now he was wishing he'd joined you for that bottle of French wine that night, something he'd remedy on the yacht. A flood of bad decisions just waiting to happen filled his mind as he said, "Go say goodbye to your father. It's almost time to go."

"Yes, Sir," you told him with your chin held high and a smirk gracing your lips. Bradley stood at the bottom of the stairs while you flung your arms around Ted and kissed him on the cheek. Then you came strolling his way once again, and he followed you closely up the stairs as you turned back and softly said, "I'm all yours."

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Ivy League spells trouble for Bradley, but at least he knows it. And he didn't get an ounce of relief before getting on that plane. What could possibly go wrong? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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mineofilms · 1 year

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The YouTube Science Scam

This mini-BLOG, of sorts, was compiled using the source material from a YouTube video called “YouTube’s Science Scam Crisis,” by a YouTuber, Science and Technology Educator, Kyle Hill, that believes it is important, as do I, to take a stand against Science Spam on YouTube and to ensure that the platform remains a source of quality educational content. This mini-BLOG was compiled using a YouTube video summary AI productivity tool called SOLIDPOINT.ai. I used this tool to demonstrate a few points of emphasis and I did not want to mess up Kyle’s terminology and/or miss the point of his message here. I felt like he worded it very well and there isn’t much I can add to that besides summarizing what he has already said in his video and put my own twist on it.

If anything, this BLOG is to really push this message, along with promoting the man’s channel. This video really struck a chord with me and felt it really needed a push outside of the YouTube platform. The material presented in this mini-BLOG came from the source material, summarized by the AI tool and me, putting in my two cents on the wording. This was not meant to be presented as my own on purpose. The main point of all this was to present the message and not myself.

What is Science Spam on YouTube?

Content created by automated processes that are often misinformed and harmful to the public. These channels often use AI and text-to-speech software to create videos that trick viewers and make money off of autoplay and trick bait.

What is the Problem with Science Spam on YouTube?

The problem is that it misinforms and harms the public by creating content that is often factually incorrect. These channels siphon attention away from better content and lead viewers down trap doors of attention to pits of nonsense.

What is the Problem with YouTube's Science Content?

YouTube has a problem with miss and misleading content created by bots for monetary gain alone. This is especially prevalent on educational channels that pose as high-quality science content. There seems to be a coordinated effort to skim your precious attention using auto-generated clickbait philosophies.

What Can I Do About Science Spam on YouTube?

If you want to take action against these videos and channels on YouTube, you can report the user for spam and scams by logging into your YouTube account, clicking on the about section, and selecting the offending videos to support your report. You can also dislike, unsubscribe, unclick the bell to ensure that you don't receive notifications from these channels and/or block the channel, all in that same about section.

What Videos Should I Report on YouTube?

If you come across videos that are harmful, misinformed, and factually incorrect, you should report them to the YouTube MIB. These videos often contain trick bait, autoplay, and are created with minimal effort using AI and text-to-speech technology.

What Topics Do These Channels Cover?

Usually broad and generally interesting science-related topics like the James Webb Space Telescope, Black Holes, Faster Than Light Space Travel, Technology, Aliens, Ancient Mysteries, Mass Extinctions, and so on.

What is the Uniformity of Content?

Almost every single one detail the same broad and generally interesting science-related topics.

What is the Thumbnail Problem?

These channels publish constantly, some almost every 12 hours. This is a rate that is literally impossible for even the best creators to pull off. This indicates that at least some part of these channels content generation process is automated, cut and paste or both. The thumbnails are so cookie-cutter that you would be forgiven in thinking many of these are just the same video across multiple channels.

What is the Lack of Creativity?

These channels have identified a few topics, words, and images that do numbers and spam them like crazy. They follow the same basic structure and video to video ever show any deviation in the creation/editing process.

What is the Actual Content Like?

The actual content or context of the content is even worse. It seems to be copy and paste text read by robots over stolen footage on a massive scale. These channels take advantage of how YouTube works by more or less automating a process where you can pump out a clickbait video every few hours.

Of the 168+ channels I have been subscribed to on my main account/channel, I went through all my channels looking specifically for science channels that fit this mold. I found a few:

@Coinstatics @kurzgesagt @VineMontanaTV (Ridddle) @TECHSYNERGIST

These channels, with a few being mentioned in the actual video, link provided above as below, and a few others fit this mold. It is sad that Kurzgesagt and Ridddle are like this. As I have been following these channels, liking their videos and commenting for a few years now. I always felt put off by these channels in the back of my head and now I know why. I liked the delivery but the videos for Riddle (all of a sudden) went from 8-15 minutes to 25+ minutes and I no longer have time to invest in their copy/paste approach to making this content. Kurzgesagt spends a good portion of their videos trying to sell products to “keep their channel going.” So these 4 above have been reported, removed and blocked moving forward on my main YouTube account. I will keep @SciencephiletheAI because even though this is sort of AI generated content it is done as a parody by a person or team of people. It is a person or persons with limited editing skills but creative. They created a fake AI persona that is obviously a person, but it is tongue and cheek, with a generic AI speaking voice, all while the info in the video is satisfying, but yet, sarcastic and funny. SciencePhile is an A-hole lol…

To me this is how people should use these tools over it trying to con us all that these polished videos are created for humans by humans. I am not going to support a channel that is made by humans, run/created by AI so this person or persons can make a buck without having to get up, put pants on, sit in traffic and deal with people that do not care whether or not this person is happy or paid appropriately.

To Kyle, thanks for making this. You have my sub and will watch more of your content to get my tidbits of science data from the YouTube machine. I do not have any problems with people using AI productivity tools to increase the quality of their content. I do it now, but at some point within the process let us not forget why we come to this platform for information like this to begin with. People out there trying to be YouTuber’s for pay. I DO NOT REALLY TRUST them, their intentionality and what their goal is with their channel.

END OF LINE…

The YouTube Science Scam Originally sourced from Kyle Hill “YouTube’s Science Scam Crisis,” Kyle Hill's YouTube Channel SOLIDPOINT.ai. by David-Angelo Mineo 6/4/2023 1,161 Words

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clanoffelidae · 2 years

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90 minutes of effort and I have now officially started learning Blender via Blender Guru’s lovely donut tutorial. My brain hurts but I’ve taken the first step!

#blender #blender 3d #3d artwork #blender guru #i downloaded blender last summer and adhd means i got overwhelmed and didnt start till now #so im using the 2.8 tutorial since i have the 2.92 version #which im not complaining about bc the 3.0 tutorial only does the donut #but the 2.8 does donut and coffee #at least from skimming the thumbnails #so i think this works out better all around since there’ll be a whole lot more tutorial!#tbf tho some of my display is still different from his but so far ive managed to locate everything he’s talking about #just might need another click or two and a few moments of searching #but yeah ive finally started!!!#its gonna be a long journey but at least ive started :)#and i had some clipping issues i managed to troubleshoot by myself which im proud of!!!#considering im brand new #only thing google helped with was how to edge select rather than vertex select #but other than that i fixed them myself :)#really proud of that <3 #lynx 3d #cause i guess i need a tag now lol

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

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(requested by Hypergryph by releasing this skin; continuing from this)

“Doctor, I’m not sure about this plan.” Blue Poison was skimming through a contract. “Comparing the percentage cut we’re earning off sales, and the taxes taken off the top, to my earnings participating in a cargo escort, the benefits aren’t even comparable.”

He smiled. “You make it sound like I’m treating this as a business opportunity.”

“Is that not how you’re treating it?” The Anura tilted her head to the side, twintails swinging with her movement.

“If this was just a way for RI to make some extra money, I’d agree with your analysis,” the Doctor replied, “but in addition to the extra cashflow, it’s an opportunity for you to indulge yourself...and for me to see you in more cute outfits.”

Azureus blushed. “When you put it like that, how can I refuse? How did you know to talk to MARTHE about this, though?”

“Orchid suggested they’d be a good fit for us, and when I sent them some of your selfies, they got back to me the same day with that contract. They also sent you something.”

“They did?” She watched with some trepidation as he pulled out a box from under his desk. “Do you know what it is?”

He nodded. “Part of the application I sent in asked about hobbies and whatnot, and I mentioned you like to destress in the gym hitting a punching bag, so...oh, wow, they sent you even more than I thought.”

“Did you have to pay for this?” Blue hadn’t received a gym outfit; she’d received a full onboarding package.

“It’s in the contract - if you don’t want to do this, I can just pay them for the clothes.” Which he was more than willing to do if necessary.

The Anura looked over what they’d sent - clothes, shoes, a punching bag cover, a bottle of water, a gym bag, and- a suitcase? “Just the clothes?”

“Well, technically everything. Some kind of package deal they’re advertising? So all of this is supposed to be in the shot.” The fact everything had her codename on it was a nice touch. “I think they almost like you as much as I do.”

“Impossible, but they certainly put a lot of effort into this...Is Scene free now, do you think?”

He pulled out his phone. “I’ll double-check with Lens while you change.”

It turned out that yes, Scene was free for an impromptu photo shoot for MARTHE (or at least for Blue Poison), but it would take her some time to get to the gym - time the Doctor could use to set everything up. While the model and camerawoman prepared, he used his own fairly tuned sense for his beloved’s best angles to judge how best to move some furniture to match. The punching bag he couldn’t take down himself, but Bison had gone in to use the weight and was able to help him with; it couldn’t be moved, but the blue dart frog and orange text were a high-saturation contrast to her outfit’s pastels, and so even if it wasn’t part of the material it would’ve been wise to work into the shot somehow. Obviously, they’d want a bench for her to sit on (no need to make her stand), and that was light enough for him to move himself, but something was off...The color. Now, the Doctor wasn’t a gifted speed-painter, and there’s no way it’d dry in time if he tried that, but he did know how to make it easy to pick up for an editing software, so he called Click and asked to borrow a green-screen, which she agreed to.

“Why do you need this, by the way?” The Zalak asked, drone on and recording (as it had been since she received his message). “I didn’t take you for a videographer.”

“Blue scored a modeling contract with MARTHE, and I’m doing everything I can to make sure she gets the quality of shot she deserves.” The Doctor, with some drone assistance, set up the screen behind the bench.

A unique situation with easy publicity and a cute girl for thumbnail candy? What a catch! “You mind if I stick around and catch this on my vlog?”

“If I can send the footage to MARTHE when it’s ready, then sure.” He smirked at her frown. “Waiting for them to approve it means you can get a sponsorship out of it, too.”

“...I’m gonna have to remember to edit that part out, but free money’s free money. Thanks, Doc.” She called her drone back to her staff while they waited for the shoot to start.

Of course, before the Pilosa arrived, Blue had changed and self-consciously walked to her usual- when did they set all that up? “Doctor? Um, what is Click doing here?”

“I’m borrowing her greenscreen, and if she records a video we might be able to get her a sponsorship, too.” The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. “Like I said before, if this is too much, just let me know and we’ll shut it down.”

“It is more than I expected,” she confirmed.

Click chipped in her two cents. “You’re telling me MARTHE is paying you to look that good for a camera, and there’s a doubt in your mind anywhere?”

“I didn’t mention this earlier, but now that I’ve had time to put together the words...” The Anura sighed. “There’s the possibility that the other Operators will only be more scared of me if this turns into a successful campaign.”

“You think so? Because all I see is someone ready to put herself out there. A soft smile and you’ve got yourself about five hundred social media followers and something to talk about at the next holiday party.”

It was at that point that Lens, Scene, and a Meaboo that’d been sent to help get them there faster, arrived. “ ‘Good afternoon, everyone! I see everything’s already set up. Great! Miss Blue Poison, are you ready?’ ”

“Um...” She looked at the little robot and its master, who was already looking intently at the setup in search of angles; at the Zalak who’d offered her greenscreen and encouragement; and at the Doctor, her Doctor, who- who seemed to be having some kind of out-of-body experience, actually. “Doctor? Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I just kind of got lost in your eyes.” He smiled, clearly a little embarrassed as Click snickered.

That was the final push the Anura needed. “I’m ready, Lens.” ‘Even if all that comes of this is that smile...It’ll be worth it.’

The Doctor had the same thought when Scene sent him the photo reel of the shoot the next day.

#arknights #arknights fic #blue poison (arknights)#scene (arknights)#click (arknights)#ya know for as excited as i am that she has a skin #this fic took a helluva long time to sort out #like...i started at like nine?#sheeeeeesh #which is exactly the same reaction i have to the fan art of this skin #SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESH

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obscureoperations · 3 years

Note

Idk if this is what you meant by weird stuff but here this is: I am currently in the dead of shark week and I feel like shit. Could you write a small drabble about Martin taking care of/comforting a trans male s/o while he's on his period? Maybe Martin like idk 👉👈 calls him handsome or smth 🥺 (And keep it sfw plz?) Thank you!!

Sorry for the late responce. I had a long day and actually wanted to type out a "dialogue"

That is the worst! Sorry man, it'll all soon pass. It's just a physical responce, has nothing to do with who you actually are.

At times Martin couldn’t believe he had met someone like you… he would talk, and you actually listen. You were one of the first people in his life who actually made him feel like he was important. You entered his life in a breeze, he could still remember the moment you walked into Cuda’s shop. His eyes were all on you as you skimmed through the various aisles. Something about you made it almost impossible to look away, you browsed the shelves as if you had all the time in the world.

Much to his embarrassment, Cuda was already off on one, urging him to pick his jaw up from the ground. He shoved a broom into his hand, urging him to either sweep or go home. You were always the first person to defend him, that day in the shop was the first of many. He stood at the counter, shaking like a leaf with barely enough courage to look you in the face. Cuda stood behind him, watching his every move, apologizing to you for his employee’s lack of manners.

“I think he’s doin just fine sir… If anything, you need to give this guy a raise.”

His eyes snapped to your face immediately, time enough for you to shoot him a playful wink. He was smitten.

You came into the shop all the time, the two of you seemed to click right off the bat. He found himself looking forward to the moment you stepped in, he had actually finally made a friend.

He thought about you … alot. And the word was mostly an understatement. As he’d sit at home, perched at the windowsill after dinner… he often wondered what you were doing. He wanted to see you. The two of you had become fast friends, you kept him company during his lunch break. You took him around town, to some of the local cafes… despite living there longer, he had no idea those places even existed. The two of you would bum around the park whenever he got off work, and you actually had a day off.

A crush. He actually had a crush on you… the idea didn’t hit as hard as he expected. Despite the fact of being raised in a staunchly Catholic home, everything about being with you felt so natural. He told you things, you told him things… the extent of his confessions were mostly about his sickness. Yours were about how you moved to Braddock to start over. Here you could actually be yourself.

Martin never really picked or pried, you told him things over time. From what he understood, you had a condition… one that required you to take these shots. Once the two of you actually entered a relationship, he had no problem administering them himself. He was really careful with needles.

He loved how happy you seemed to be the days following, every day you seemed to become more and more comfortable in your skin. He was elated, as much joy as you brought him every day, at times, you’d seem to get extremely down.

It was only for a few days out of the month, but during that time, he was always at a loss. He wanted to help you as you’ve always helped him… but didn’t want to mess up and do the wrong thing.

He made frequent trips to the library and by now, he seemed to have a bit of a better idea what was going on. You never liked to talk about it. You apparently had a curse of your own to deal with. That was something that he could completely understand. All he could do during those times was sit back and listen for whatever you needed him to do.

Oftentimes there was nothing, you never liked to be a bother. You never liked to draw any more attention to what was happening to your body. Still, Martin would wait patiently along your side, prepared to do whatever it is that might make you more comfortable. As of now, you were curled up on the couch watching “spook-a-thon” on channel 6.

Martin stood poised over the counter, absentmindedly chewing at his thumbnail. . He was supposed to be making lunch, you were really hungry and needed something in your stomach. He had placed two tablets of aspirin in your hand before tossing you a coke from the fridge. He didn’t want to risk you getting nauseous now. He settled on whipping up a couple of sandwiches.

He could hear your groan of aggravation over the commercials, and began to pick up the pace. He offered to grab the heating pad from upstairs, but apparently “you were fine…” He hated drawing attention to it, he always felt as though might think he was being condescending. He only wanted to help, but didn;t want to hover… the least he could do was feed you.

He turns on the faucet, briefly washing his hands once again. He reaches for the cupboard, pulling out the value sized bag of salt and vinegar chips. It was your favorite,he always made sure to have some on hand for whenever you might be feeling a bit down.

The plates were set, but he almost forgot the pickles, with a sigh he grabbed the jar from the fridge. As he placed it onto the counter suddenly he had an idea. He picks up the jar lightly taping it against the tiles. He sighs, almost audibly, before tapping it again.

“Babe!” he calls

Silence. Surely you couldn’t have fallen asleep. From the way it sounded, if you didn’t eat something soon, you seriously considered biting his head off.

“Y/n!” He calls again, just as you casually pad into the kitchen. You sleepily begin to rub at your eyes. You wore one of his somewhat over sized pajama tops. You looked adorable. According to you, his t-shirts always feel a bit more comfortable. Who was he to argue?

“What is it babe… the movie’s about to start up soon..”

Martin sighs dejectedly as he picks up the jar, prying at the top. “I can’t- I cant get the top off… I’ve tried…” He was practically yanking at the jar with his bare hands. He was about to slam it onto the tiles before you speak up...

“W-woah.. Easy now.. Don’t drop it!” You laugh.

“But-- I it’s-- not..” He was about to hit the jar along the side of the counter again before you step in.

“Hey come here, let me try..”

With a sigh, he reluctantly hands over the jar but not before mumbling “It’s just really tight…”

“M-hmm.. Okay sure.” You smirk…

“It might be expired.. Thats why its so airtight--”

<pop>

You stood there for a moment as though you were waiting for an award, as Martin’s jaw continues to gape.

“No way…” He shakes his head.

“Did you even turn it?!” You laugh stepping over to the counter, surveying the freshly made plates. They looked awesome, he even made sure to layer your sandwich with extra pieces of Swiss.

“I did!.. I almost shattered the lid!!”

“Sure okay…” you shrug, placing the now open jar onto the counter.

“Lunch looks real good, are you gonna finally sit down to join me?”

With a sigh, he reaches for the jar placing a few of them onto his plate, shaking off his fingers. “I guess… "

"Good! Martin, stop sulking...you loosened it up!"

"You have to say that..." He whispers as the two of you walk over to the couch.

"I do...you could jus--"

Your words are inturrupted as he lightly pecks you on the cheek.

"Thanks handsome.”

#martin 1977 #martin 1978 #martin mathias #martin/reader #martin/ftm reader #martin/gender neutral reader

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pellucidity-is-me · 3 years

Text

James Potter and Latin

Summary: Part three, but can work as a one-shot! Working through each Marauders’ relationship with the Latin language. This is James Potter. Also on Ao3 and FFN (I’m also writing a very long fic following the Marauders in school. Link on my blog description!).

Wordcount: 2790

On the day that James Potter turns nine, his parents throw him the most excellent birthday party that James has ever seen.

Streamers float in the air, just low enough for James to yank on their curly tails if he wants to. Confetti swirls at James' feet, perpetually suspended a few inches above the ground—it's like wading through multicolored water. Balloons bob against the ceiling, and they're all red and gold (James' favorite colors).

James' favorite part, though, is the pile of shiny presents in the sitting room, resting securely on the table directly underneath the chandelier. James will never tell his parents, but he's already slid a thumbnail under the largest one and lifted the wrapping just enough to see what it is. He did it in the dead of night so that his parents would never know, and he was so perfectly sneaky that he knows they'll never find out.

The present seemed to be a broomstick. James already has one, but he just knows that it's a bigger, faster model. He can't wait to take it for a spin and see what model it actually is (he couldn't really see enough through the wrappings)... but first, he's going to enjoy his party.

His friends arrive around noon, and James' mother, ever the gracious hostess, lets them in. James can be a gracious host, too, when he wants to—he never wants to, of course, but he figures he'll try it today. "Welcome, Madam Pattinson," he says sagely, sweeping into a graceful bow.

Pattinson places a hand over her heart and smiles. "Oh! Such good manners. You've raised a good boy, Euphemia."

"I know I have," says James' mother. She kisses the top of James' head, and James grins. "Why don't you run along and play with Janice until the rest of your friends arrive, Jamesy?"

"Right-o, Mum!" says James. Janice is standing behind Pattinson's skirts, sucking her thumb. James cringes. Janice is such a baby.

"Go on and play with James, dear," says Pattinson to Janice. Janice closes her eyes, seemingly drawing up the courage from a place deep within, and then dashes inside the house to play with James.

James entertains Janice for the next twenty minutes—there's really no other word for it; it's not as if Janice is entertaining James. He doesn't know why Pattinson arrives everywhere thirty minutes early. He might understand it if Janice wasn't a snivelling brat, but she is, so James doesn't understand it. He suspects it's because Pattinson is tired of playing with her tiresome child and wants a babysitter.

James sighs. He should be paid for his time, at least.

Marcellus arrives around half noon, and James is much more glad for the fact. Marcellus is loads of fun. He has a pet parrot that he carries around on his shoulder. The parrot knows dirty words, and James always gets a kick out of hearing them. James' mother doesn't approve of this, of course, but Marcellus always tells her that "it can't be helped", seeing as the parrot doesn't understand what it's saying. James' mother accepts this, and then Marcellus always leans over and winks at James. Little does James' mother know that James and Marcellus taught the parrot those words themselves on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

James can't wait to show Marcellus his broomstick. Perhaps he'll let Marcellus ride on the back—if they fly far enough, then they might be able to ditch Janice without getting in trouble. If James' mother asks, James will just say that they "only meant to be gone for a second, but then they got lost". It's not very believable—James has a great sense of direction—but James' mother always believes any excuse that comes out of James' mouth. She's a good mum like that.

It isn't until twelve-forty-five when the party really starts. James has ten good friends, and all of them arrive within five minutes of each other, carrying presents and wearing comfortable dress robes. James' robes are red and adorned with patterns of Snitches—his parents bought them for him exactly one year prior. James is growing out of them now, but he plans to throw a massive tantrum if his parents buy him anything but Quidditch-themed dress robes in the future. He loves these robes.

James and his friends play all the regular games—pin the tail on the house-elf, Ring-Around-the-Gillyweed, and Duck Duck Snidget. James wins every one. He'll never admit it, but he practices these games for hours—what's the point of having a birthday party if someone else wins the games?

James' favorite part of the party is opening his presents. His parents did indeed get him Quidditch-themed robes—these are red, too, but they have tiny, moving golden Quidditch players on broomsticks flying up and down the sleeves and across the chest. They're even better than James' current dress robes. He hugs his parents and changes into his new robes straightaway.

His new broomstick is a grown-up broomstick—it's not a model with safety features, and it's not even made for kids! It's a real-life broomstick made for real-life adults. James is smiling ear-to-ear for the rest of the day. The rest of the presents can't measure up, and James' parents have to remind him to be polite and thankful—but James is trying his best. He's just so excited to go outside and play with his new broomstick.

He normally loves it when his friends visit, but today he plays with them a bit impatiently while he waits for the party to end. He's ecstatic when they finally leave. "Can I play with my new broomstick now?" he squeals, not even waiting a second after the front door shuts behind the last of his friends.

James' mum smiles adoringly at James and ruffles his hair. "Of course, but Daddy needs to supervise. And go slowly!"

"Sure!" yells James, already removing the new broomstick from its box.

"James, you have to change out of those robes. They were very expensive, and I don't want them to get soiled."

James needs only pout for fourteen seconds before his mother begrudgingly agrees to let him fly the broomstick in his new robes. That's a new record.

James' father supervises while James rides over treetops, past smoking chimneys, and above the Potter mansion. He can go so much higher than he's ever gone before, and it's such a thrill to look down and see his legs dangling so far above the ground. At this height, his shoe is bigger than an entire house.

"You're going too high, James!" says James' father, and James reluctantly lowers his broomstick ten feet. He gazes at the sparkling emerald pond and then dives hard and fast, pulling up just in time to skim his shoes across the water. His father yells at him for that, but James isn't going to fall. He feels more comfortable operating a broomstick than he does walking, even. And James is a good walker. He hardly ever bumps into things.

Now, from the outside, James looks like a spoilt brat. Some people say that he is. He's never set much stock in rules; after all, he always seems to escape with nary a scratch. Perhaps James is lucky. Perhaps he's clever enough to get out of a scrape. Perhaps his family is so coddling and adoring that James has never really been in danger to begin with. Either way, James looks like a spoilt brat from the outside looking in.

But James knows that he isn't all bad. He does follow rules—sometimes—and he does listen to his parents—sometimes—and he doesn't complain—well, not always. His parents treat him well and love him so because he is a good child, don't they? James would be in a lot more trouble if he never listened and always did the opposite of what he was told. He'd never be allowed to ride such a dangerous broom, so high above the treetops, if he weren't at least a little bit responsible. James' parents trust him.

And because he's been so good recently, he decides that he can break a rule here or there. He climbs higher—even higher than he'd been before—and ignores his father's shouts of annoyance. Then he dives. The wind whistles past his ears. The houses and trees are blurs below him. There's a delicious swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach. James—who is responsible, at least a little!—watches the water carefully as he draws nearer—and then he pulls up at exactly the right time, expecting his shoes to skim against the water again and perhaps even spray his father and earn him a laugh—

But James forgets to take into account that the broomstick on which he is riding is not the one that he's been riding for the past year. The velocity, speed, and feel are all very different from what James is used to. The broomstick isn't as light and responsive to his touch, so he pulls up a bit too late. The bristles of the broom are caught in the water, and James feels the broomstick sag underneath him—he tries to pull up, but there's not enough time and not enough strength—James is submerged in the water. When he resurfaces, paddling and gasping and laughing, there's water in his nose and it burns.

"James!" cries his father, rushing towards him. "Are you all right?"

James is lifted out of the water, and his nods his head. "Fine, Daddy," he says. He's still laughing. He keeps laughing until he notices that his leg hurts a lot.

When he looks down, his leg is covered in blood. "Oh, ow," he says. Now that he's seen the wound, it starts to hurt ten times as much. James' eyes fill up with tears.

"Oh, dear," comments James' father. "Let's get you inside to your mother." He carries James, bridal-style, and James tries not to think about the burning in his nose and on his leg. He clutches his broom to his chest, and he cries harder when he notices that some of the bristles have broken off. He cries still harder when he realizes that there's a gash in his new robes.

James' mother coos over him as soon as he enters the house. "No harm done, Mia," says James' father. "He only scratched his leg on a rock at the bottom of a pond—it's much worse than it looks. I'll mend it in a second."

"But my broom!" sobs James.

"We'll take it to the shop and get it repaired, son. Don't you worry." He turns to James' mother again. "Everyone gets hurt on their first adult broomstick, Mia. The thrill of it is just too enticing. Not to worry—I was there to slow him down."

James wonders if he crashed because his father slowed him down, and his crosses his arms over his chest. "Wish you hadn't," he mutters darkly.

"Do you want to be fish food?" says James' father, and James giggles. He's feeling a bit better now. "That said, you really should have obeyed me. I know you think that you're invincible on a broom—and don't get me wrong: you're a thumping good flyer and you'll be on the Quidditch team before your third year—but there are certain rules that you have to obey in order to be safe. And since I now know that you're not as responsible as I thought you were, I'll have to supervise you every time you fly from here on out until you can prove yourself."

James sobs a little at that, knowing that he won't be able to have any fun with his father around. But it's fair, he knows. James cares about fair.

His mother mends his wounds, helps him out of his wet clothes, and summons a house-elf to draw James a bath (with more bubbles than water; just as James likes it). James hates the concerned look on his mother's face. Things aren't perfect anymore. Things are messed-up, and James wants to fix them. He has to. He feels so bad for her—she hasn't done anything wrong—and he wants to make her happy again. "I'm sorry, Mummy," James says. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to get hurt... or ruin my robes... or break my broom. It was just so fun."

"It's all right, darling," says James' mother. She kisses his forehead and rumples his hair. "You made a mistake, but now you can learn. Carpe diem."

James has what his parents call a photographic memory. He can recite long strings of numbers and words. His vocabulary (though he never chooses to use big words) is advanced. He can read faster than both his parents combined, and remember more, too. He has some vague memories of himself as a baby, before he could even walk. If James hears it, then he remembers it—which is why he's so certain that he's never heard that word before. "What's carpe diem?" he asks.

The annoying thing about being so bright and so young is that adults tend to laugh James off. He doesn't get an answer—he only gets another rumple of his hair and a "such a clever boy". James is disgruntled now.

He decides that, if no one will tell him, then he's going to find out for himself. He knows where the library is. And riding to the library safely on a broomstick all by himself will certainly prove to his parents that he can be safe and responsible, won't it? So, under cover of night, that's exactly what James does. It's a good job he's magical enough to unlock the shed by himself.

The library is closed, which isn't what James anticipated. So he sits on a bench outside the library for a bit, hoping to wait until the library opens and he can go in. He doesn't know what he's looking for, but he suspects that the foreign phrase will be in the foreign languages section.

James nearly falls asleep on the bench, but he's interrupted by a kindly-looking lady with soft brown eyes and floofy grey hair. "You're the Potter lad," she says, and James nods. "It's midnight, my boy. What are you doing out so late?"

"Technically early," says James, who knows how the twenty-four-hour time system works. "I'm waiting for the library to open."

"Why?"

"So that I can find out what carpe diem means. Mummy won't tell me."

"Oh," the lady says, laughing. If she knows what it means, she doesn't tell James. "Did you fly here all by yourself?"

"Yes," says James. "The broom's bristles are a bit broken because I fell into a pond—yesterday, not recently—so it's a bit wobbly. But I stayed close to the ground. I even stayed behind the trees in case there were any Muggles around, but I know there aren't any Muggles in this wizarding neighborhood. I was ever so careful."

"I believe you." The lady looks vaguely impressed, and James puffs his chest out with pride. "Carpe diem is Latin for seize the day. Now, why don't I Apparate you back home?"

"No, thank you," says James. "I have to get home on the broomstick so that my parents trust me to fly alone." He swoops away before the lady can say 'no', and he's home in less than ten minutes.

His parents are still sleeping; they never even found out that he left. James can't wait to tell them.

The next morning, he announces over breakfast: "Carpe diem is Latin for seize the day."

"It sure is," says James' mother. She's used to James' knowing random information by now, James is pretty sure. She doesn't look impressed at all. "James, the shed was unlocked. Did you remove your broom to look at it last night?"

"No," says James. "I actually—"

His mother interrupts before he can finish telling his mother that he'd actually flown it. "Good. I knew that I'd made it clear that you were not to fly your broomstick alone under any circumstances. Daddy said that I wasn't blunt enough, but you understand, don't you?" She smiles at him and finishes her tea.

James slowly shuts his mouth and then leans back in his chair. "Yep, crystal-clear," he says.

He never tells his mother nor father about his midnight excursion. But even if he had gotten in trouble for it, it would have been worth it.

Carpe diem. James decides then and there that he'll live his life by that phrase. After all, what's the point of life but to have fun?

#james potter #marauders #young james potter #maurauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #broomstick #carpe diem #scene from my fanfic #you should check it out lol #new readers give me instant happiness

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franeridart · 5 years

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hi!!! first of all i adore your art so much!!!! like daddy jesus, it gives me life. u draw rlly good poses, so maybe u have some tips? or any good places to find references cuz i can only find pretty stiff looking pictures and thats sad :((((

Tips! Yes! I have those, since it’s a thing I’ve always struggled a lot with too, so I ended up hunting down and hoarding tips like an artist dragon with fancy pictures of gold - disclaimer, even though I know of these tips it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m good at following them. Because I’m a mess. SO! TIPS!

- When trying to decide on a pose, try to picture the whole action behind it instead of just the single instance! If we were to talk in animation terms, I’d say try to picture the whole sequence instead of just a single, specific frame of it. What is your character doing? Picture in your head the whole movement, and then pick a frame that’s smack in the middle of it - this is because generally the stiffer moments through an action are the beginning and the end of it, so drawing the middle will give your pose a lot more life! If you’re unsure about exactly which moment of the action would work best, draw thumbnails of a few different “frames” of it and pick the one that flows best for you

- Related to that, when looking for references generally I prefer looking for videos instead of pictures, specifically to get a better sense of how the whole movement flows and where it would be best to stop it. In the same vein, I’ve made a habit of at least partially always keep an eye out for body language while watching movies/tv shows/cartoons&anime, because while real life is just as much a good source of reference as anything else, actors and animators tend to exaggerate movements to make them more captivating and eye-catching, and that’s what we’re looking for when drawing too! It’s all in the drama of it, look for the drama

- “A real life person wouldn’t do that/move like that/bend like that”, that’s okay, this isn’t a real life person! Exaggerating the shapes and lines is a good way of increasing the flow of your pose, as long as you don’t make it grotesque then pushing on the shapes and curves is always a good idea! Unless you meant to go for grotesque, in which case push all you want, who’s to stop you. In this specific area action lines are your best friends, so if you feel your pose is stiff or lacks life, try finding the action line in it and push it more - you can find a lot of youtube tutorials on action lines and gesture drawing, in case you want to look more into that! Only god and my youtube history know how long I’ve spent doing just that

- Talking about youtube, if you want to work on your flow a good way is to try out the one minute figure drawing exercises - they give you a pose, you have one or two minutes to sketch it out depending on the video, then it moves to the next pose. It’s a good way to loosen up your lines, in my experience! This is a nice playlist for that, in case you wanna give it a go!

- Rewinding a bit and going back on body language, if you want your pose to feel alive and be realistic while at the same time conveying a specific mood or feeling, maybe you’ll want to look into how people express themselves through body language! I always see this suggested to writers to set the mood without explicitly stating the emotion, but it’s a wonderful tip for artists too the way I see it (mostly so if you’re drawing a comic, actually!). A good list is this one, give it a skim!

- More than a tip it’s a trick, really, but giving a prop to your character can help make the pose more interesting - there’s only a finite number of things a character can do standing alone by themselves with nothing to occupy them with, an object or an animal or a second character to interact with really do make finding an interesting pose easier!

That was a lot of theory there, wasn’t it, let’s go for some practical tips too (featuring Horikoshi’s pencil sketches, because I love them and he’s very, very good at this whole posing thing)

- If you picture your character as standing in an open space and the eyes of the viewers as a camera, moving the camera around them to find an interesting angle adds a lot of depth to the pose. It can be really, really tempting to just draw them from the front and eye level, but sometimes even just raising or lowering the camera the smallest bit helps with giving the drawing life - perspective! I know, I hate it too orz but we’re working hard to overcome that problem, because look at Horikoshi’s latest Kirishima sketch!

so alive! So beautiful! The pose in itself isn’t all that special, but the angle he decided to draw it at sure helps give him life. A thing I do often is to draw a thumbnail of the scene I’m trying to draw from the most boring angle possible, to make sure of where everything is, and then metaphorically move the camera around to try and find a more interesting angle to portray it from - it helps! At least, it does for me haha

- Keeping it asymmetrical makes the pose dynamic! Let’s look at Toga over here

Her legs and arms are an obvious example of this, but specifically I marked for you the hips line and shoulders line to show you how they aren’t paralel either, because that’s a little thing that’s generally a good idea to keep in mind when you want to give a bit more of movement to your posing! It’s true in photography too, actually. If you want a full body selfie to look good, try keeping shoulders and hips on non-paralel lines, it makes the whole thing look a lot more professional

- Keeping that Toga pic as our set example, hair and clothes give a lot of movement to the pose too! If you draw someone in the middle of an action, their clothes and hair are (possibly, if the clothes are loose enough and hair long enough) going to move with the action too - they show the direction of the motion, so keep that in mind when drawing them. Additional tip! If your character is just standing still, wind is a thing you can always make use of to give a bit more movement to the whole set-up!

- It’s a good idea to keep all the noise in your pose on one side, to give it a bit more balance and make it less chaotic - let’s use Jirou here as our example

the lines on the right side are a lot more simple and straight than the ones on her left, as I tried to very roughly mark for you - all details and “noisy” bits are all on the same side too, so that your eyes can easily focus on what’s important in the pic without getting lost all over the canvas. Balance and asymmetry! Again! It’s an easy way to make poses interesting, after all!

- That said, it’s not like you can never keep it symmetrical - the human brain actually likes that symmetry a whole lot, finds it compelling! It has to be perfectly symmetrical, though. Let’s look at Bakugou, because why not, always a good time to look at Bakugou

if you drew a line in the middle of his face and down his body, you’d see he’s pretty much perfectly symmetrical - that’s nice! That works! ...why does it work, though? This goes a bit more into composition and less into posing, but this has to do with the rule of thirds: generally and very simply, the rule is that for a picture to be well composed it needs to be set so that the main focus isn’t smack in the middle of the canvas. Some examples with the pics I just posted up there!

The way the bodies are positioned and the way in which the empty spaces are used respect the rule of thirds pretty dang neatly, and that helps make the pictures look less stiff too, between the others things! It gives balance to the whole composition, and makes it more lively! (The reason why it works with Kirishima is that the focus of the drawing is less him as a whole and more his face and right fist - so very neatly positioned! I’m in awe, ngl)

Bakugou’s case is a bit different thoguh, and that’s why the symmetry works there!

when you want to go for the symmetrical look you sort of need to forget about the rule of thirds, as far as I’ve been thought - symmetrical means tidy, and it’s only really tidy if it’s symmetrical based on a line traced right in the middle of the canvas, so Bakugou’s center is right along the median axis, and his pose works even if it’s pretty stiff, by all means.

(this goes into the rules of making a good portrait work, actually, but the lack of empty space all around him helps with keeping it looking well composed and tidy, too. There’s a lot of little tips and tricks that help make a pose work when it comes to composition, really!)

(Also, to be fair this last bit about the rule of thirds wasn’t exactly necessary or particularly well explained, I’ll be real, but while browsing Horikoshi’s twitter I realized how neatly all his sketches follow the rule and I needed to gush about that for a sec, it’s how being a fan works haha hope it was useful at least a bit to you, though!)

#fran answers #art tips #long post #so long!#but i hope at least something in here might be of help to you #posing and composing are a very very complex and big topics #i'm still working very hard to try and figure it out myself #let's do our best together!#sexy0android

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moondustaeil · 5 years

Text

secret taste, jjh

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ⋅ secret taste

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ chapter 1

⠀ about

⋅ genre : non-idol au. mainly romance + smut (additionally : fluff , angst)

⋅ characters : Jung Jaehyun x reader (other nct members)

⋅ word of warning : a whole bunch of sexual themes , cursing , idk

⋅ word count : 1.6k (short I know, but I’m working on another fic too -get excited!!- , chapter 2 will be longer)

⠀ ⠀

⠀ summary

⋅ to provide creative content on a YouTube channel, Jung Jaehyun and y/n are invited together with a bunch of other strangers to test out objects. Unlike the useless gadgets you can buy on the home-shopping channel, they are given the opportunity to test out the most sensual lifestyle products together.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ chapters

⋅ intro , chapter 1 (you’re here)

⠀ ⠀

Kink test: What’s your BDSM role?

‘Are you a master, dom? A slave, sub? Here’s a quick kink quiz with 15 questions that tests out your BDSM roles. It’s just for fun, you know yourself best.’

You looked at the starting page of the website for another few seconds, your eyes scanning the words once again to make sure you didn’t read any of them wrong. But even after reading it nearly three times, the words were still the same. Inexperienced or not, it wasn’t hard to understand the difference between dom and sub, and nearly the entire world understood what the word kink meant.

Apparently, Jaehyun was on the same website as you were, judging by the startled response he suddenly gave. Probably a normal response seeing the situation people had thrown you in without clear explanation. You could hear a couple of clicks coming from his side, indicating that he had started the test and was already answering questions, or that he closed the tab in case he didn’t want to be involved in things like this.

Without thinking more about it, you moved the cursor to start and gave it a silent click, feeling embarrassed to let people hear how you were going to do this. Expectations were something you didn’t have with this sort of test. After all the intro mentioned that the test was made just for fun, so the outcome probably wouldn’t be trustworthy even if you answered the questions honestly.

The test started off with a rather innocent question, soft and innocent in its own sinful way, asking you what you would like the most out of the four possible answers it gave you. The options were sexually tinted, but vague enough to give you hope that all of the questions would be like this. But when after answering, it directed you to the second one, you widened your eyes a little bit, eyes shifting to Jaehyun to see what kind of facial expression he had while doing the test. Jaehyun seemed focused, no segment of shock or surprise on his face which made you suspect that instead of doing the test, he was playing games, or he was too kinky to be bothered by any of the stated options.

“Just go with the vaguest answer” Jaehyun whispered over to you when you least expected him to speak up, he had seemed so immersed in whatever he was doing. Your secretive looks weren’t that much of a secret after all. You hummed in response, unable to find a proper answer. It was awkward to sit there, both of you next to each other while taking a BDSM test. Luckily the cameras weren’t capturing this, otherwise, the whole world would have ended up seeing your half-shocked, half-embarrassed state.

With each new question that you had to answer, you glanced at your partner. Presuming he would chime in again to give you advice about how to answer or maybe give you judging eyes, judging eyes without knowing what your answers were.

“This would so be you, question six: I scare other people when…” Jaehyun started, trying to hold in a small laugh as he looked over at you and already imagined which one you’d pick out of the four options. He started to read them out loud, three of them being about sex aside from the second one. After reading out the different options, he repeated the second one. “I jump out and say boo” he said, this time the small chuckle leaving his lips. You gave no reaction. As much as you thought Jaehyun didn’t know you well enough to judge the answer you would give, he was right when he said that. You kept in your mind, that once you were at question six, to choose one of the other options to prove Jaehyun wrong.

After the little teasing comment, it was Jaehyun who stole the glances you usually would give him. Glancing with his eyes towards you, in a non-judging way, neither in a comical way, it was as like he was trying to read you. Read you, your thoughts but also your answers. Luckily the answers of the test weren’t able to be found on your face, but the embarrassment was. He enjoyed the sight of you like that, a little bit flustered, a whole lot awkward and weirded out.

The rest of the questionnaire was filled in, not a word being spoken between you two. After sharing some more glances through the latter half of the quiz, they stopped when the end was nearing even if the questions were getting less detailed. The awkwardness just wouldn’t leave the room, inwardly you cursed and wished you had never taken this unknown opportunity.

“kinkster”

When you suddenly heard some word being mumbled from Jaehyun, you looked up at him, forgetting about your own test results to look at him. You thought you had heard what he said, but then again you weren’t sure if you had, maybe by now your mind was just making you have your final verdict over him a little too fast.

Jaehyun was an attractive man, his looks were to melt for, his personality so far seemed to leave a good impression. And you were positive he would have girls lining up just to have a conversation with him. Your mind had classified him as someone who didn’t have a lover, but simply enjoyed a pleasing onetime rendezvous in his bedroom with some random person. In the end, you knew that you couldn’t judge whatever he was, couldn’t judge by looks and if you would then you would get mixed up. His different aspects made a one-word label hard to paste, so labelless it would be for now.

The laptops were taken away from you without any result explanation, they just claimed they had needed the information for future purposes and to see how you and Jaehyun would function as partners. It had been all you two had to come in for today, it was almost as if the staff was satisfied when they sent you two separate ways to home again. They didn’t care they left you two confused like that.

“See you next time” Was all that Jaehyun said as the two of you parted ways outside the building, the way outside had been quiet aside from agreeing on how confusing it was that they made you take the test. Luckily the conversation didn’t go any deeper in on the test than that, you weren’t ready for yet another awkward moment. You gave him a small wave as he was the one to drive off first, instead of waving back, he just flashed you a genuine smile with the usual set of dimples on each side of his cheeks.

That night at your home, curiosity took over. The first few hours you had tried to distract yourself by making yourself food, taking a shower, changing into comfortable clothes. But as it grew later, so grew your desire to know about kinks, about sexual things that never rang a bell to you before.

It was time to spend some time on the internet. Not to be a stalker and search for things like Jaehyun’s social media, but instead doing some research about things that you read in the BDSM test. Your internet history had started out pretty soft, but as time went by, the dirty things were on top of the list.

the last hour

⋅ pornhub

⋅ bondage

⋅ masochism

⋅ breeding kink

⋅ impact play

⋅ pet play

today

⋅ dirty talk

⋅ sexual roleplay

⋅ edging

⋅ dom sub relationship

⠀

You had no idea how you had honestly had been able to stay on the internet for roughly three hours, only researching sexual things instead of social media or random things you would usually occupy yourself with. Even more confusing was that you had ended up on a website that everyone knew, pornhub. You didn’t know how you and many others knew the website without even watching its content. But tonight it had sparked your interest, especially after researching those things and sometimes reading about what the kinks consisted of.

Once you ended up on pornhub, you were greeted by the black display, orange detailing and along with that, many thumbnails revealing sexual images. The titles just as sinful as the thumbnails, how could someone in one short title explain the entire video? Your cursor hovered over one of the titles as you were reading it but accidentally you moved your hand, and instead of a still thumbnail, it was a small preview of what you’d see if you actually clicked.

“your cock belongs inside me” You murmured instead of repeating the words in your head like you had planned to. You had to be quiet, you didn’t want anyone to catch you in the act of looking things up. Your eyes skimmed over the girl in the burgundy red bralette who was riding a guy, barely one second later, the girl was naked, her pierced boobs getting groped and by the way they moved, things had seemingly gotten heated real quick. “Oh shit” you said and quickly moved the mouse from the thumbnail, sighing in relief once the fragment turned into the still image again.

678k views, 80% of green thumbs or likes, whatever they might be. But not from you, you were done with the unholy part of the internet for today. Without closing the tabs, you shortly pressed the off button for your laptop to go in standby mode. You placed the laptop next to you, to occupy the empty space in bed next to you and then laid down, your eyes closing. It took a lot to forget about the things you had read and seen and even when you were falling asleep, all that you thought about were those things.

This was going to be interesting.

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lacefuneral · 4 years

Note

What’s your opinion on some of the most popular social media platforms?

hmmm ok

Facebook: some of the leftbook groups are fun (like the one where ppl pretend to be ants, or “lemgthbook” where people replace all instances of the letter “n” with “m” and post pics of like borzoi snouts) but any time I open the app or open it on desktop EVERYONE knows i’m online and I.... hate that. Also my family is on there, and I constantly get notifications about some weeb post I made when I was like 12 or a picture of me pre-transition where I drew on a face with MS paint because I thought I was ugly. It’s just... bad vibes. And I while I can technically say “fuck” - I know my grandma is watching. And possibly future employers. So I don’t really go on there anymore. I did get marked “trans friendly” by shinigami eyes though, so that’s cool. (Probably because I used to be an active contributor in a trans education group.)

Twitter: I briefly used this as a way to keep up with two of my friends and to follow artists I like, but the community there sucks. The discourse is bad. The jokes aren’t funny. And it just... doesn’t really feel like a social media platform as much as a place where people shout at each other and react with videos. You also can’t tag anything, which means that I’ll be minding my own business and then someone I follow will suddenly retweet a bunch of NSFW art. And it’s like “...I don’t want this.” Or even SFW art can be annoying if it’s for a fandom I’m not in. Like... c’mon. Also you can get banned for calling someone a TERF so.....

Tumblr: It may be a garbage can, but it’s my garbage can. I actually feel like it’s less hostile around here since tiddies were banned? Like, a lot of the really mean people migrated from here to twitter. I will say one thing though, I wish automated blocklists were a thing. It sucks to scroll thru the notes of a post and see everything light up red because it’s terf after terf after terf, and I can only block so many in a row before my hands cramp up. Twitter actually allows you to do this with third party apps - you can subscribe to blocklist, and any time that list is updated, your account will automatically block them.

Instagram: I know absolutely nothing about this platform aside from the fact that videos from there don’t have a timeline that lets you jump around to certain parts and I HATE that. I feel like I’m being held hostage any time I click on a video from there. Like I HAVE to sit through the entire thing. I can’t just skim. Also even though I do take photos and could conceivably have an insta for photography, it seems like the worst possible place to do so. Because you’re uploading like, what? 1, 2, maybe 3 images at a time? Under a single thumbnail? At least facebook will let me post like 400 images at once in an album. It just... seems pointless unless ur posting pics of food and a quick snapshot of you with your friends. Which.... I wouldn’t do.

#replies #anonymous

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thejanewestin · 5 years

Text

Gravity, chapter 1 (Mirandy)

Andy Sachs was not a scientist.

She felt that this was an important point to make, particularly in the weekly staff meetings, when the scientific editors’ discussion of the latest endosymbiont or cytokine or whatever devolved into semi-hysterical PubMed searches and emphatic data-set thumping. Eventually, after they’d worn themselves out squawking at each other, they’d turn to her to tie-break.

“Guys,” she’d say. “I am not a scientist.”

But she was the managing editor, and despite having a pay grade significantly below that of the Ph.D.s in the room, it somehow fell to her to figure out which of the six nearly-identical Figure 1s to use.

“Your problem is you’re too capable,” Trixie said, examining the underside of her coffee mug with an expression that was half interest and half revulsion.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Andy closed her laptop and scrubbed both hands over her aching eyeballs. “Are you ready to go?”

“What do you suppose this is?” Trixie held the mug out to Andy, bottom-side first, where a wad of something grayish-blue was firmly affixed.

Andy made a face. “Walt’s gum,” she said.

Trixie shuddered. “I was afraid you’d say that,” she said. She reached over and put the mug onto Walt’s desk. “That dude is a sociopath. I can’t believe I dated him.”

“Stop.” Andy let Trixie pull her to her feet. “I can’t handle any romantic navel-gazing tonight. I need ravioli.”

They stopped at Trattoria Giulia on the way home, stomping their feet on the cracked sidewalk in a vain defense against the icy night wind as they waited at the window.

“Whoever thought a spaghetti counter was a good idea—” Trixie started.

“Was a genius,” Andy finished, tearing into her bag and finding a breadstick. She crammed half of it into her mouth while they walked the rest of the way home.

“SVU?” Trixie asked, once they were ensconced in their apartment.

“Nyet,” Andy said, finding a spoon in the pile of dirty dishes in the sink and wiping it on a dish towel. “Too tired. Going to eat ravioli in bed and pass out.”

Trixie flopped on the couch. “Suit yourself.”

Andy managed to splatter minimal tomato sauce on the bedspread, which was pretty good for ten o’clock at night, she thought. She scrolled through emails as she chewed. Submission, submission, submission, submission. The journal was pretty successful, even though its impact factor would never break the threes. And she liked her job. It wasn’t the hard-hitting journalism career she’d envisioned when she’d graduated from college, but it was good, satisfying work.

It was a little funny, actually, that she’d taken such a roundabout route to end up right back in New York. It had started with a little job in Boston—editing press releases for a medical journal—and when she and Nate had ended it a year later, she’d moved back to Ohio. A colleague from the Boston journal had put a good word in for her in Cincinnati. Eighteen months after she’d started, the whole publication had moved to Queens, and they’d taken her with them. Trixie’s claim that she was too capable had served her pretty well, all things considered, and she’d been promoted to managing editor just before her thirty-first birthday.

Submission, submission, submission. All things that could be handled at the office tomorrow. She scrolled faster.

And then she saw a name.

Andy’s thumb slammed on her phone screen so hard she accidentally minimized her mail app. “Fuck,” she muttered, opening it again, and there it was, in bold Helvetica Neue.

Every cell in Andy’s body seemed to turn to ice.

EXTERNAL, the email said. Submission.

And the name above it:

Cassidy Priestly.

***

They’d be twenty-two now. It was hard to fathom—her brain had put them into a kind of temporal lock, freezing them eternally as bratty twelve-year-olds. She’d spent more time than she cared to admit Googling Miranda, but she had sort of forgotten about the twins.

Cassidy didn’t have a LinkedIn, but Caroline did. She was following in her mother’s footsteps, apparently—her current position was listed as Photography Intern, Elias-Clark. She looked like a younger, freckled Miranda, all cheekbones and chin and that aquiline nose. Heavy eyeliner. No smile.

Andy flipped back to Cassidy’s submission. It was a PDF, too small to read on her phone, so she put the ravioli container on her nightstand and reached for her laptop. Cassidy was the first author, so she would have done the bulk of the writing. The last name listed was a Ph.D. at Columbia. It was a name she’d seen in print a number of times, although never at Cellular Function.

Andy read. For a moment, absorbed in the text, she allowed herself to forget the paper’s author. It was a descriptive study on regulatory kinesins in microtubules, and although it was quite a bit more specialized than what the journal usually published, the writing was good and the design seemed solid. She skimmed enough to decide which of her colleagues should review it, deidentified it, and forwarded it to Rashad. Her hands, she realized, had become ice-cold.

She felt nervous.

It was a strange, foreign feeling, like someone had whooshed her consciousness back into her twenty-three-year-old body. She felt exactly like she had for the entirety of the almost-year at Runway, and she knew exactly why.

Miranda.

She wouldn’t be the one to decide whether or not the paper would be accepted—that was Rashad’s job, and he’d review it blindly, without knowing the authors. But it would be her name on the letter. She could just imagine Cassidy presenting a rejection to her mother. Would she remember Andy?

She wondered, briefly, if it was possible to recuse herself from a submission, as an attorney might recuse herself from a case in which there was a conflict of interest. Oh, God. If the paper got rejected, she was going to have to quit her job.

No. She shook herself. What was she thinking? Cellular Function had nothing to do with Runway. There was absolutely no overlap between scientific journals and fashion writing. Miranda reigned over Elias-Clark, sure; her reach might even extend to print media beyond New York. But Andy would bet her left pinky that no one in her current sphere—besides Trixie, of course—even knew who Miranda Priestly was.

She swallowed her anxiety with a few more bites of her now-cold ravioli. Old habits, it turned out, died hard.

She showered, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed, but sleep was a long time coming.

***

The paper did not get accepted.

Andy had known it wouldn’t. Upon closer reading the following morning, it really was too specialized for their applied-science journal. More suited for Experimental Cell or Developmental Immunology. Three weeks after she sent it to Rashad, she got the email back that it had been rejected. Fuck.

She copy-pasted the rejection template into an email reply to Cassidy and her coauthors, staring at it for a long time as she chewed on her thumbnail. It was a good study. It would surely be accepted at a different journal, and she could come up with four or five off the top of her head.

Cassidy’s mentor would know that. She was undoubtedly accustomed to rejections, and would have a list of next choices to which the article would be submitted.

And yet.

It wasn’t exactly forbidden to deviate from the standard reply, nor was it exactly forbidden to give recommendations for future submissions. But in her seven years at the publication, Andy had never done so; had never seen the need. Now, though, she wanted to, and she had the uncomfortable realization that it wasn’t because she worried about Cassidy’s disappointment.

It was because she was worried about Miranda’s.

She didn’t want Miranda to see Andy’s name at the bottom of that letter and think that Andy was responsible for her daughter’s failure to appear in the journal she’d selected. After all this time, after everything Miranda had put her through, she didn’t want to let Miranda down.

She sent the template off to Cassidy, just as she’d done for the past seven years, with no additional commentary or suggestions. Then she did something that was either exceptionally kind or exceptionally stupid: she opened her personal email and sent Cassidy a message.

Dear Ms. Priestly:

Thank you for your submission to Cellular Function. Although your work was not accepted, the writing was — what? Andy thought. Good? No, it was better than good, although Cassidy’s youth and inexperience showed. The writing was more than acceptable. Please consider submitting to the following journals.

She listed the five she could think of—she had friends at three of them—thanked Cassidy again for her work, and sent the email before she could think better of it.

Probably exceptionally stupid, she decided, immediately after the soft whoosh of the message zooming away. She had no doubt that her boss would have something to say about her endorsement of journals other than their own.

She wondered if Cassidy would tell Miranda about it. The thought made her feel unsettled and uneasy—and, although she didn’t like to admit it to herself, just the tiniest bit hopeful.

***

Cassidy’s reply that afternoon was just one sentence, and Andy’s burst of laughter was so loud that Trixie jumped and glared at her.

ANDREA SACHS IS THAT YOU?

Well. Maybe not so stupid after all.

It’s me, she typed back. Surprised you remember.

The response this time was almost instantaneous. Of course! Harry Potter! Are you still in the city? Let’s have coffee. And her phone number.

The immediate familiarity, such a stark contrast to her mother’s standoffishness, took Andy slightly aback. At least the brevity was familiar.

Sure, she sent back. Which was why, two days later, she was sitting in a Starbucks on the Columbia campus, waiting to greet someone she had thought she’d never see again.

Cassidy arrived at precisely five-thirty, saw Andy at once, and beamed. “Oh my God,” she said.

Andy got to her feet. Cassidy didn’t quite hug her, but she took Andy’s hand in both of hers and pulled her in for an air-kiss near Andy’s cheek. The residue of high society, Andy supposed.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Cassidy exclaimed. Her blue eyes were sparkling behind outsized tortoiseshell glasses. Her bright copper hair had been cropped into a shaggy lob, and she was wearing clothes that Andy was fairly certain Miranda would hate: a gigantic Columbia sweatshirt, leggings, and beat-up Ugg boots. A messenger bag with a seat-belt strap was slung over her shoulder. She looked every inch the graduate student.

“I’m sorry about your paper,” Andy said by way of greeting.

Cassidy waved a dismissive hand and dropped into the armchair across from Andy’s. “Don’t worry about it. Aisha has a publication plan that’s sixteen journals deep for everything she puts her name on.”

Andy felt a little silly at that, since in her mind’s eye, she had only really seen the disappointed face of a young adolescent. “Oh. Good,” she said lamely.

“Your email was so nice,” Cassidy added quickly. “I really appreciated it.” She slid her bag off her shoulder and dropped it on the floor, and as she did so, Andy saw the flash of a small diamond on the ring finger of her left hand.

Cassidy followed her gaze, and for a moment, Andy saw the impish twinkle of so many years ago. She held her hand up and waggled her fingers. “Two months ago,” she said, grinning wickedly. “He’s an engineer. Mom was pissed.”

Andy laughed, even as something in her chest twinged at the mention of Miranda. “I can only imagine.”

It was a nice visit—really nice, Andy thought, after Cassidy had left for class. She’d learned a lot about the twins’ lives. Cassidy was, as she’d assumed, in a Ph.D. program in microbiology. Caroline had graduated from the Tisch photography school. They didn’t live together, but their apartments were three blocks apart, and Cassidy was thinking of moving in with the fiancé after her lease was up.

What she didn’t mention—what Andy desperately wanted to ask, but didn’t dare—was anything about Miranda, other than a brief roll of her eyes when she mentioned “cohabitation.”

She didn’t say if Miranda was still in the townhouse, if she’d remarried, if she was happy. She’d be fifty-six in November; was she still the formidable figure of a decade ago, or had she softened with age?

Cassidy hadn’t said; had carefully avoided the topic at all. Andy had the feeling that there was a lot about Cassidy’s life these days that Miranda didn’t know. So she doubted, very much, that Cassidy would mention their meeting to Miranda.

And she couldn’t quite decide if that knowledge brought relief or disappointment.

***

Cassidy texted her the following week—favor to ask. It turned out she was writing two other papers and wondered if Andy would look over them before she submitted, if she had time.

Andy didn’t have time, but she had liked seeing Cassidy and wanted her to do well. And she had to admit, it gave her a sort of gleeful satisfaction to see the apple falling so far from the polished-gleam tree.

They met two more times at the Starbucks, this time for revisions. The engineer fiancé, Patrick, stopped by the second time. He was sweet to Cassidy, and cheerfully greeted Andy, and for a moment Andy remembered how in love she’d been with Nate at twenty-two. She hoped Patrick and Cassidy would last.

The fourth time they met, Cassidy arrived looking pale and terrified. “I’m sorry—” she got out, just before the door swung open and Miranda stepped inside.

Andy froze.

The Chanel sunglasses rotated slowly and stopped at Andy. One eyebrow crept up.

“I don’t know how she knew it was you—” Cassidy hissed, as Miranda took slow, deliberate steps toward them. Her cheeks were bright pink. “I’m really sorry.”

“Andrea.” Miranda’s voice, cool and aloof, unchanged in ten years.

Andy realized she was standing. When had she stood up? Her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her toes.

Miranda looked—well. Miranda looked amazing. It was still cool enough, in early April, for outerwear, and Miranda’s black fitted coat cut a silhouette far too classy for a college campus coffee shop. A white silk scarf was knotted at her throat—Hermès, no doubt. Her lips were pale pink, a shade entirely at odds with her terrifying deportment. Heads turned.

“Miranda,” Andy managed to say. Her voice sounded strangled.

Miranda lowered herself elegantly into the chair next to Cassidy’s, as though it was completely normal for the editor-in-chief of the biggest fashion magazine in the industry to be hanging around with graduate students and aspiring playwrights. She tipped her chin down just a little—just enough for Andy to meet her ice-blue gaze. “So you’re the mysterious proofreader,” she murmured, her expression entirely unreadable.

Cassidy collapsed back into her chair and put her face in her hands. “Why are you like this,” she groaned.

Miranda appeared not to notice. “Sit, please, Andrea.”

Andy sat.

“Cassidy, bobbsey,” Miranda said, removing her sunglasses and placing them on the crumb-dusted table, “be a darling and get Mummy a latte, won’t you?”

“Oh my God,” Cassidy said, with an adolescent flounce, but she got up and went to the counter.

Andy couldn’t think. Literally couldn’t think. How many times had she imagined this scene—reuniting with Miranda, apologizing for her phone-tossing temper tantrum and for her epic Parisian storm-out? Garnering Miranda’s forgiveness? Maybe, heaven help her, even earning a little of Miranda’s respect for the place she’d carved out for herself in publishing? She was, after all, an editor now too.

But despite herself, she was just sat here, dumbly staring at the woman whose presence loomed so large in her life even now, and she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

Fortunately, Miranda didn’t seem to require much of a response. Or any, for that matter.

“Cassidy’s happiness is of utmost importance to me,” Miranda said softly.

Well, duh. “Right,” Andy said blankly.

“She is an extremely driven young woman.” Miranda’s eyes darted momentarily toward her daughter, who was now nibbling on a pink cake pop as she waited for the latte. Then they fixed back on Andy, “And her drive has taken her into a field about which I know very little.”

I’ll say. Still, Andy was surprised that Miranda was willing to admit any gap in her knowledge, no matter how obvious. She tried to keep her expression neutral, to avoid reinforcing Miranda’s assertion and possibly causing offense.

“You, Andrea,” Miranda continued, not quite meeting Andy’s gaze, “are in the unique position to influence my daughter’s career more than I.”

Ah.

So that was it. Miranda wanted to make sure she didn’t fuck up Cassidy’s trajectory. Of course that was what it was. She had no interest in Andy’s apology, no interest in Andy’s life.

Caught between dismay and indignation, Andy straightened her spine. “Look, Miranda,” she said, “I may not be walking the red carpet, but I’m good at my job. I’m not going to crash her plane into the mountain, okay?”

Something that looked like surprise flashed across Miranda’s face, but before she could respond, Cassidy appeared at her elbow. “Your latte, your majesty,” she said, setting the cup onto the table.

Miranda’s expression morphed into a gracious smile. “Thank you, my love,” she said, reaching for her sunglasses. “I’ll let you two work, shall I?” She stood without a second glance at Andy, taking her coffee, and kissing the air beside Cassidy’s head before gliding out the door to her waiting car.

Cassidy looked mortified. “What did she say? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“It’s fine.” Andy’s heart rate was starting to come back down into the normal range. “Don’t worry about it.” Although she still felt flushed and angry at the implication that she was going to —what? Get Cassidy blacklisted from Cell? Keep her from a tenure-track position?

“I’m sorry,” Cassidy said again, miserably.

“Seriously,” Andy said. “Stop. Let’s just finish this draft, okay?”

***

Andrea,

I would appreciate a meeting. Wednesday at The Modern, 8pm?

“What the fuck,” Andy muttered.

What did that even mean? I would appreciate a meeting. “Well, I would appreciate a raise and an extra six weeks of vacation,” Trixie said, when Andy spun the laptop toward her emphatically. “Are you going to go?”

“I mean—” Andy flopped her hands helplessly at her side. She didn’t particularly relish the idea of an encore of the Starbucks conversation. At the same time, the brief interaction had reminded her why she sought—why she craved—Miranda’s approval way back then.

Of course, a few other things had come to light in the past few years, as well.

After she and Nate had reconciled and she’d made the move to join him in Boston, he had been so happy. The new job. A bigger apartment. He’d brought her flowers every week on his way home from the restaurant. Andy had blamed her diminishing interest—and libido—on depression: she’d been unable to find a position with any of the local newspapers, not even in Classifieds, and she refused to call Runway for a reference. Miranda had already handed her one favor and she would not be further beholden. When she finally landed the little position at the medical journal, she did feel better, but something with Nate had been irrevocably lost.

There was a girl at the journal. Her name was, improbably, Logan, and she had close-cropped hair and graceful wrists.

Andy would gaze at the ceiling while Nate groaned and sweated against her, and she would think about those wrists. She started to close her eyes when Nate kissed her. The feeling of his stubble against her skin made her flinch.

Nate wasn’t obtuse. “Is there someone else?” he’d asked.

No, of course not, she’d said, and there hadn’t been, even though her thoughts had wandered long ago to arms, and shoulders, and the brush of short auburn curls against the curve of a downy neck.

He asked, and she protested. Again and again, for months, until one day he stopped asking, stopped trying to touch her at all. When she told him she was leaving, he didn’t look surprised.

She kissed a woman for the first time two days after her twenty-sixth birthday, both of them happily tipsy in the middle of the dance floor of a downtown Cincinnati nightclub. Andy hadn’t even gotten her name, but the following morning, lying in bed with a screaming hangover, she thought a lot of things in her life had just become a whole lot clearer.

It had taken Trixie’s droll observation after her third date in a week—“You definitely have a type”—to make Andy realize that there was a huge, terrifying reason that she had tried so hard to curry Miranda’s favor.

“I wanted to sleep with my boss,” she told Trixie over the phone, at three in the morning on a Wednesday.

Trixie’s voice was thick with sleep, but she sounded shocked nonetheless. “Cheryl?” she said.

“No.” Andy put her hand over her eyes. “Miranda.”

“Oh.” The shock dissipated. “Yeah, dude, you and everyone else.”

Andy blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.” Trixie sounded like she was rolling her eyes. “Hot and mean? Duh. I’m going back to sleep.”

***

“So are you?”

Andy blinked. “What?”

Trixie pointed at the screen. “Going to meet Miranda.”

“Oh.” Andy turned the laptop back toward herself. “Um. I don’t know. I guess so. Yeah.”

“Good thing you have two days to make up your mind,” Trixie said, sounding amused, and turned back to her own computer.

Would she go? Of course she would go. Any uncertainty was pretense.

She sent back one word.

Yes.

#mirandy #wip #janewestin writes #miranda priestly #andrea sachs #andy sachs #the devil wears prada #fanfiction #work in progress

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kilyra · 5 years

Text

Life’s Like That

Matt Murdock (Daredevil) One-Shot from prompts

A/N: I received a request from the lovely and incredibly patient @givemeabite for a Daredevil story with the prompt “I thought you were happy, I’m sorry”. Right off the bat, while I dig this little story, I may have missed the mark you were hoping for (I mean, I went with lawyer Matt vs Daredevil...) so please let me know if you want me to go for an actual Daredevil story with the same or different prompts!

You find yourself turning to Matt Murdock, and old friend from college when you realize that, not only are you getting a divorce but you might lose everything.

Warnings: This is a female reader pov. I try to keep things as neutral as possible, but it was too awkward. I left the husband and company nameless so you can at least fill in some blanks. Otherwise, it’s spoiler free.

If you want to be on my tag list for this or any character just let me know!

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You read the name a dozen times as you stood outside the door. This was it; it was definitely them. It was definitely him.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open to see a blonde-haired woman behind the only desk in the room. Her eyebrows raised as you came in, but her smile was warm. “Mrs. McKay?”

Blinking, it took a moment to realize she was addressing you. “Oh, uh, no..”

The woman's eyebrows creased lightly as her smile grew smaller. Dropping her gaze down to her desk, she started rifling through an open file. "Oh, my apologies. You are...?"

“Ms L/n. I just...was hoping to see Mr. Murdock? If that's possible?”

Your nerves knotted violently as you watched her go through several stages of confusion. “Uh, do you have an appointment?”

Hesitantly, you looked around the empty waiting room area before turning back to her. “N-no?”

“Y/n?”

Following your name, you turned to see Matt Murdock poking his head out of one of the connecting rooms.

Relief rushed through your body, the knots immediately dissolving. “Matt!”

A wide grin spread over his face as he stepped out of his office, running his hand down his tie and smoothing it against his slightly wrinkled shirt. “Wow, I couldn't believe my ears when I heard your voice. How have you been?”

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you chewed your lip for a second before finally smiling. “Uh...good.”

Matt paused. “That bad, huh? Why don't you come in and tell me about it?”

Hesitating you glance back over at the woman behind the desk. Her smile was tight as her eyebrows creased together.

Before either of you could say anything, Matt nodded her direction. “Uh, Miss Page? Foggy can start with Mrs. McKay if she arrives for her appointment...actually, do you mind sitting in with him? That might be safer.”

Despite trying to pinch her lips together, a smile broke free and Miss Page looked towards the door labelled Nelson as though she expected him to pipe up at any second. “Yes, that's no problem.”

Waving you over, Matt's hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you into his office. As you took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, you were surprised when he took the other After he turned it slightly, your knees were almost grazing when he leaned forward.

After setting your purse down, you glanced around the room. “You and Foggy have a nice setup here. You guys really did it.”

His dark glasses reflected the sunlight from the window behind you as he let out a soft chuckle. Shooting you a lopsided-grin, he shrugged. “Well, I'm told it's simple but professional enough to inspire a bit of confidence at least.”

Barren was a better way to describe it. Other than his license, the walls were only broken up by the cheap, plastic blinds over the windows.

“Or maybe confidence is too a strong word?”

“Oh no, it's good, it's nice and...clean,” you said in a rush as you tried to make up for your brief silence.

“Wow. So I guess I should probably agree to Karen's constant requests to spruce up the place.”

A nervous laugh was your only reply as you felt your cheeks grow warm. Your gaze briefly skimmed over him. He was still the same, warm Matt you remembered from college, but his button-up shirt did little to hide his muscular chest. Although you always thought of him as a good-looking man, you didn't remember him being in quite so good of shape.

It was surprising how flustered it made you, considering everything you were drowning in.

Slowly, his smile grew more sombre as he cleared his throat. “Well, if I recall correctly, you weren't any more into small talk than I am, so I hope you don't mind if I just get right to asking what brought you here? Is everything okay?”

Although it was the obvious question, a sudden wave of guilt rolled over you. You hadn't seen him since school. Sure, life carries on as it does and everyone has their own shit to focus on. But it didn't feel great that, after all these years, the first time you finally reach out is because you need help.

“I, uh, I'm going to need to hire a lawyer. I'm not sure it's your field of expertise, but I might end up losing everything and I thought, if nothing else, you could point me in the right direction.”

The last of his smile dropped and his voice gained a sharper edge. It was a noticeable shift from old friend to lawyer. “When you say lose everything, what do you mean exactly?”

Nervously running your finger under the edge of your thumbnail, you frowned. “Possibly everything – my home, my car, my money, but most importantly, my business.”

His head bobbed slightly as his eyebrows drew together. “And why is that?”

Pausing your fidgeting, you let out a soft sigh. “Divorce.”

The word hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity before Matt finally cleared his throat. Nodding, he sat forward and leaned over you to grab the box of tissues from the corner of his desk. As he moved, his fresh aftershave mixed with a warm, earthy scent seemed to float around you. It immediately brought you back to the time you spent together, back before everything started heading in the wrong direction. A longing gripped your chest, a desperate need to turn back the clock, and you had to resist the urge to inhale deeply.

“I'm sorry to hear that, Y/n,” he said as he set the tissue box near you.

Letting out a soft, bitter snort, you shook your head. “It's fine. We can't all be you and Elecktra.”

He only froze for a moment as he settled back in his chair, but it was enough to tell you everything.

Before he could talk, you already started apologizing. “I'm sorry, I didn't know. I mean...it's just back in the day you two were so...I thought you were happy, I'm sorry.”

Huffing a sigh through his nose, his tongue darted over his lips as he waved you into silence. “It's okay. I mean, you're right, we were happy once, but it was a long time ago.”

A faint smile ghosted your lips as you let your gaze trail across his desk and towards the small window. The cramped city view past the blinds didn't provide much of an escape.

“Yeah...I guess life's like that.”

From behind you, you heard the outer door opening followed by muffled voices. Probably Mrs. McKay, Matt's next appointment. You kept your focus on the window. Maybe you were going to need those tissues...

The feeling of Matt's fingers lightly resting on your knee brought your attention back. His head was tilted – a move you've seen so often after your friends find out you're getting a divorce. But, somehow, you didn't feel the same overwhelming pity from him. “I know it's been a long time, and I'm not a divorce lawyer, but I am here for you. I'll need some more details before I can offer any suggestions though...can you tell me why you think you're in danger of losing everything?”

“Because he's hired Desmond Tobey to represent him...”

Wordlessly, his lips parted for a moment before he tried to find his words. The small gesture made your heart drop. “Hogarth's guy? That's uh...that's...”

“Bad,” you finished.

Leaning back in his chair, he adjusted his glasses and lightly bit the edge of his bottom lip. “Uh...yeah. It's not great. I hate to ask this, but what, uh...what are the circumstances of the divorce?”

Crossing your legs, you hugged your arms over your chest and sighed. “He cheated on me.”

Slipping back into lawyer mode, you noticed a drop in his gravelly tone as he straightened in his chair. “Did he admit to that?”

Looking at your sleeve, you unfolded your arms to pick at a small piece of fluff on the fabric. “He did. After I confronted him with the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

His all-business demeanour made it easy for you to do the same. Besides, you hadn't had much time to process your feelings anyhow. "Yes. After seeing purchases and motel room costs show up on his credit card statements, I actually hired a private investigator. So now I have photos too."

“And you've kept copies?”

“Multiple. In various safe spots. Look, he's got money. Serious money. So I understand why he would want to get the best lawyer he could so he doesn't get cleaned out. And frankly, I don't care. He can have the clothes off my back if he wants...but he threatened my company. That's the only thing I want to fight for. It's mine. I built it from the ground up. Myself.”

Matt's lips pulled together in a tight line as his face pointed away from you slightly as though he were looking to the side. “And does he have any claim to this company?”

Staring at the fluff, you balled it up between your fingers before letting it drop in the small garbage can beside you. "No. Well...I mean he gave me the startup money. Which I paid back. With interest. We even did that all through contracts so it was all legal. I don't understand what ground he thinks he has but...I don't want to lose this. Matt, I'm scar-"

Your voice hitched.

Turning back to you, Matt's hand reached for yours and he tightly squeezed your fingers. Holding your breath, you refused to crack as you squeezed back.

“I'm going to help you. Foggy and I, we've got you. Karen too. She's the best investigator I've ever met so if anyone can uncover whatever ace he thinks he's hiding up his sleeve, it's her,” he said firmly, although his voice softened considerably.

Gritting your teeth, you looked upward as though it could force the moisture back into your eyes instead of falling onto your cheeks. Quickly, you brushed along your bottom eyelashes, whisking the potential tears away. Matt's grip on your hand tightened.

“Thank you.” It came out as a whisper.

“We'll set up an appointment for tomorrow and I'll need you to bring in everything. Everything you have against your husband and all of your financial statements, both personal and for the business. And, as soon as you leave here, you need to freeze everything to do with your company in terms of assets and expansion plans. If you were even looking at buying a new office chair – it's on hold, got it?”

“Yes,” your voice was still unsteady.

Hearing how shaken you were, his face fell slightly. “Y/n, he's not going to get your company. I promise. We'll look over everything to make sure your case is iron clad. And if there's even any doubt, there are some legal, if shady, options we can look into as well. It's going to be okay.”

The relief of having someone on your side cracked your hard shell. Swallowing heavily, you finally reached over to grab the tissues.

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @foreverfaeries @flower-two @getlostinyourparadise @selfishkiddo @angelicshinigami @kingccbsblog @natsukitakama @jobean12-blog @fiction-is-the-new-reality @mysteryoflovve

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfic

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maikatc · 5 years

Text

Black Sun Tale | Ten Dollars

alright, here we go y’all

remember that this is a first draft and i’ve only barely edited it, but comments and reception is heavily appreciated!

(also @rhyseoshaughnessy because they said to) --- There is always a time in someone’s life that’s the lowest, it’s a given. Those who break down from their faults and failures, ones who are toyed with to the point of numbness, the occurrences are common to an individual’s extent.

However, ultimately the question is how to break away from the cycles, and it takes lifetimes for some to realize.

It all boils down to the differences in people and what they want to achieve in the end. Though for some that desire is left unknown, or they were left with no certain answers, including Oliver Holguin.

The day lengthened in time for Oliver by the early morning as per usual. His tired eyes slowly waking as he played through repeated melodies. Practicing throughout the nights, the song ringing out from the ukulele was beautiful to the ears. And as he continued onwards, his sight began to lighten up the bedroom.

“As lovely as you are, I will have to go,” He sang with whispers tickling his throat. His bed-hair blocked him from catching somebody in the corner of his eyes, though the light greeted him with a shelf of books and a tablet on a nightstand instead of the man.

The complicated tabs and chords flew by with his fingers. The ease of the song left him concluding his mastery. “I’m sorry to let you down.” He rung the last lyrics and strings leaving the room in echoing silence. Taking a moment of pause, he placed the ukulele back to the side. He stood up from his bed. His sore legs fumbled together to go and grab a charger. His tablet turned on to a low percentage once he connected the two together.

I need to stop using this at night, he thought while he searched for a tablature site. He pulled back his auburn bangs to read better, scrolling through lists of songs to learn. “… I need to find a new site too.” His voice croaked with soreness.

He sighed, letting the device charge. He stretched his joints in a yawn and walked out of his room. His left arm pounded asking for a scratch and reminded him to check the bathroom. The early morning traffic blasted noise through the apartment when he scavenged the cabinet filled with multiple vitamins and medicine.

His tiny arms tried to recognize the feeling of what he wanted, and he debated on just getting a stool considering his height. However, he finally reached what he was looking for and opened the cap.

Crap. The ointment cream container held almost nothing. “I have to get more before she finds out,” he muttered. His eyes stuck on the little bottle for seconds until putting it back in its place, ignoring his irritating arm, as well as his always ignored stomach.

***

Oliver sat on his living room couch, doodling on schoolwork and watching television. The velvet cushions pinched him by his skin in discomfort, though he’d been adjusted for years. Cartoons played on an overpriced T.V. as background noise with the occasional screech harming the boy’s ears. He worked with barely a care, only thinking once a question tugged his head hard. Eventually, to no avail he had to turn the entertainment off. What the hell is up with kid shows nowadays, he scowled.

Checking the clock, the arrows pointed to be ten in the morning. Oliver yawned. Twenty minutes of sleep couldn’t cope with boredom. However, from the amount of ‘good sleep’ he had gain from the past days, some rest could be assuring.

He laid down, resting his body to the cushions he sat on. His mind rang until it blurred, nothing will happen, right?

His heavy eyes shut in only half a second.

***

The sound of soft sizzles woke Oliver up. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up to see his mother standing in the kitchen across the room.

“Seems like you were tired?”

Smile, smile. “Yeah, I slept a little late last night by accident.” He scratched his head while forcing a chuckle.

She cut up vegetables from the counter, assuring him, “You know that’s alright. It wasn’t even a school night.”

The crunch of the plants getting cut up could be heard all the way from where Oliver’s mother stood. Oliver himself checked the time again to find the clock pointed only a half hour after five. Dear god that was a long time. “How come you came home early,” he irked.

“My last patient’s parents called in and said that she wouldn’t come today so my boss said I could take the rest of the day off. Hope she’s alright, though.” She placed her knife down to go and walked over to him.

“You’re talking about Lavinia, right?”

She sat with him. “Yeah, the one with her phone.”

Oliver eyed her, “Didn’t you say that she’s been starting to act weird?”

“Mhm…,” she drifted, “But you don’t have to worry about that,” she messed Oliver’s hair with her hands.

“Stop!” Oliver moved her hand away sluggishly, giving a warm smile to her satisfaction. Though her own chortles told him that he did all right.

She stood up again, shifting back to what she did prior. “So now that I’m back early, do you want to go somewhere?”

Oliver shrugged, “We can go out somewhere if you want, where do you wanna go?”

“Oliver, it’s your choice, not mine. Don’t you want to hang out with a friend from school?” She opened the refrigerator, taking out prepped meat. “Your teachers say you get along with them but you never mention anybody to me.”

“It’s fine, Mom. They’re just kind of…” He avoided her eyes, “people that I wouldn’t hang out with privately.” He tried to laugh it off though his mother’s eyes sent concern instead.

“Is this about Rowan and Ann? Because you know that that kind of stuff isn’t common-”

“Mom, that was three years ago, I barely remember it.” That’s a lie. “They aren’t the reason. Heck, I didn’t even get along with my class when I skipped a grade.”

“Well,” she placed the meat in a heated pan, “you’re almost eleven and you’re still cooped up in the house all the time.” The meat sizzled in the oil. The scent flowed through the air as they spoke.

“No, I’m not,” Oliver scoffs, “I go out to walk… sometimes at least.”

His mother clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “I have to check up on you more often.” Oliver’s eyes widened. “I’ll bring you somewhere later today after I get some paperwork done.”

The boy’s eyes lowered without facing her. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to bring down work. Uh, your patients really like you, don’t they?”

“But I should be taking care of my only kid, shouldn’t I-”

“They’ll miss you,” he interjected, squeezing his vocal tone to be reliable. “Besides, you can get more money to pay the mortgage here faster doing so.”

“Stop making smart words with me.” A click in the stove caught Oliver’s ears. “Anyways, food’s ready.”

After setting plates and utensils, they ate together in a plain table of shiny marble. The meat turned out to be pork chops, and the taste would have been mouthwatering.

“Ah, this came out perfectly. Hope you like it.” She beamed, taking another bite in the process.

Oliver cut off another piece, biting his lip. “Yeah, it’s great like always, Mom.”

“You really need to invite a friend over sometime,” she exclaimed. “It’s not fun only cooking for you and me.”

He looked down at the food, sighing, “No clue when that’ll happen.”

They went to venture through stores after lunch, only for Oliver asking to leave an hour in.

***

Oliver skimmed through video posts online, scrolling past multiple in his disinterest. Crying sweats sank through his skin, though he ignored the occasional occurrence. Chirps of his mother babbling at her friends’ calls echoed through the apartment like every other night while Oliver listened in the back of his head.

“No! Jamie, you’re getting the wrong idea,” she snorted. “He’ll bring someone home at some point… hopefully.” The sight of her crooked smile could be imagined by Oliver in a mere second.

The redhead placed his tablet to the side of his undone bed. A deep breath was enough to function himself, same went for staring at the dull ceiling.

His mind dimmed from his usual racing thoughts, taking time to go at a complete blank. His hearing and sight blurred spacing out. His eyes continued to close and open, the emptiness making it difficult to keep his eyes open wide. To stay awake, he raised his hand towards the ceiling, using any muscle he had to keep it up. The warm air of the heater blew against his arm and long-sleeve. With every joint and wrinkle on his fingers, all he could observe with thought was his skin, which had paled from his constant brown.

“Damn.” Oliver clenched his hand. The arm fell down as he hopped out of his bed to the rugged floor with his bare feet. The room was already heated for Oliver, though his decision was an exception to the discomfort. Picked up from an unused chair, the boy dressed himself in a crimson cardigan dangling down to his knees. As he fitted the oversized attire, he nabbed his tablet back to his hands and sat on the floor. “This’ll probably be better,” he slurred.

Reloading the site, a certain video caught Oliver’s eyes:

Alexa Katzmann Found Dead Indoors from Area Death. The thumbnail of news made Oliver’s eyes widen, his cold sweats rising as he clicked with doubt.

The reporter stated the repeated script about area deaths. Of course, nobody could find the real reason of the death like always. While the woman explained the exact story, the camera panned at the body. Alexa was about five as the news said, daughter of a celebrity, though they censored enough appropriately.

However, what played over Oliver’s screen made his heart beat faster, louder.

Alexa’s stomach had been ripped out, blood scattering all over against her clothes and pale skin. Everyone in the room stepped on the organs without realizing they were there. Nobody could see the same scene Oliver viewed.

He muttered to himself as the video continued to play, “No, no, no…” His breathing grew as his throat continued to burn from the air and panic.

“This is the first report where an area death has occurred indoors.” Stop saying anything. He stopped the video and tossed over his tablet as his mind raced for answers.

His scratched his arm over and over, his heart pounding over his ears to the point of needing to scream. “When?” He barely breathed out. “When did-? “

Oliver looked around his room. Now. He jumped at his ukulele case in a split second, unzipping it in barely any time. Fuck the ointment. He reached for an inner pocket, unzipping it until he heard a voice.

“You really do get scared quick, huh?” The voice stung obnoxiously, making Oliver pause and enter back to reality.

Oliver twisted his head, still shaking from the previous seconds. His mind already clicked together who it was, however. A taller figure stood right behind him, leaning against the wall with hands behind his back. The man’s messily styled hair and dirty trench coat brought more memory to who he was. The boy took a gulp before completely coming back to his senses.

“… Why are you here now, Vittorino?”

Vittorino shrugged, popping out of the wall and walking towards him. “I was bored. ‘Wanted to see what you were doing.” His dark eyes darted Oliver’s position. “I see you’re about to have fun,” he scoffed

“Shut up.” Oliver slammed his ukulele case shut. He crawled back over to his bed, turning back on his tablet and biting his lip. Of course, he’s here because of that.

Oliver continued to scroll around on his tablet, his heart still pounding loudly in his head. The screen grabbed Oliver’s attention completely.

“… You know,” Vittorino spoke after Oliver’s ignorance, “You really don’t ever go out.”

His smile could already be seen without looking. “And you mention this because?” Oliver sighed out, his head refusing to turn to Vittorino. He typed up a video to re-watch in attempt to distract himself later on.

“Because are you really going to be cooped up like some nobody?” His tone was readably different from previous conversations, from what Oliver noted. Expectations for what to come next jotted to more limited possibilities.

“It’s better like that.” No turn made again.

A grumble could be heard before a sudden, “Come on!” Vittorino appeared right to Oliver, the boy’s body flinched and turned in the process. “Enjoy life a little!”

Oliver’s shoulders lowered. “You’re being pretty persistent than normal.”

“Come on, Oliver.” Vittorino dug his hands to his pockets, a sly grin creeping through like always. “Let’s go. Just a walk with me is alright, right?”

Oliver’s eyes squinted, his mind boggling at the possibilities that could happen with the decision, considering the teen-nuisance that is Vittorino. “… Fine.” But just why would he want me to go, was the only question in his mind that moment.

After drudging out of bed and to the living room, Oliver told his mother that he was going off to a walk. Vittorino followed behind him but she made no comment, gladly telling Oliver goodbye without noticing the teen’s existence.

Obodo City was always a bustling mess.

The tourists running around, the teenagers crying over late trends and messages, the children hyper and shouting at the tall buildings and stores, even loud, annoying traffic that’s at a constant. Oliver paced through the sidewalks, crimson hood over his head as gusts of October winds blew before him. Buildings stood tall and jagged against each other that formed unimaginable shapes in the air. Balconies stood in neighboring apartments filled with laundry or autumn plants, some even blasting music while the owners took a cig. The sounds screamed at the boy’s ears while the scent of street food caught his nose easily. As Oliver’s instincts pressured him to take a bite of something, he refused, his teeth clawing at his lip.

“So,” Vittorino ignited the conversation, “How’s your day gone so far?” He took no look at Oliver and instead viewed the sites ahead, to Oliver’s bewilderment. The only thing up ahead were greyed alleys and crosswalks, similar to everything else in the city aside from the intense smoke in the area.

“… Have you been hungry lately?” The man snickered, snatching Oliver’s attention despite the rude comment.

“I just ate.” He stated, looking ahead himself, “The question wasn’t needed.”

“Just wondering,” Vittorino bent down to Oliver’s height, still walking, gleaming by Oliver’s sour expression.

Oliver’s sight of Vittorino disappeared as his figure jumped up in front of the boy in a blink. “You have to admit,” Vittorino said, wrapping a stop sign around his arm. “This city really is awesome to look around in, right?”

“I’ve been here for the past ten years of my life, Vittorino. Best that can happen is controversy protests and holiday decorations.”

“Really? What kind of stuff do you guys decorate?” Vittorino’s brows risen up, curiosity almost purring from him.

Oliver walked passed him as the crosswalk glowed green. A small crowd surrounded him as he shrugged. “Lights for the most part, nothing special.”

Vittorino appeared right next to him. “Sounds nice.”

Silence covered both of them. Oliver pondered over Vittorino’s past actions as Vittorino turned all over to view the sights of the city. Oliver followed him though the teen stared aimlessly at such miniscule of things. A tiny convenience store barely seen by a tall building and a worn-down restaurant included. Someone older than him being intrigued by such things made Oliver question his identity more than before.

Entering a cleaner street, Oliver queried, “Vittorino?”

“Hm?”

“What do you have to do with Faustus?”

The man with the trench coat stopped at his steps. Oliver took a gulp down his throat.

“Who’s Faustus,” he pondered.

“You know who I’m talking about,” Oliver spatters, “Emo kid, probably sixteen or something by now. Pale skin, white hair, blue eyes but he never shows one of them?”

“Oh! I know who you’re talking about now.” He sneered, “That isn’t actually his name, you know.”

“I figured,” Oliver murmured. “But aside from that, you have something to do with him, don’t you?”

“And what makes you think that?”

Oliver threw his hands forward. “Nobody except for me can see both of you! That’d be obvious enough.” He crossed his arms. “But you both are weirdos out of anybody that I’ve ever met.”

“That’s rather judgmental, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out who Zach is and where the hell he went since I was seven. I barely had any kind of way to figure out until you started popping up in my life.” Oliver’s unfastened hood flew out from the wind as he turned his sight to Vittorino’s eyes. He pleaded with brows furrowed, “Just tell me how you guys are related and why you both are really here in the first place.”

Vittorino’s mocking expression deepened. “Well, I guess I can admit one thing.”

“And that is…?”

“You can say that I’m hanging out with you for two favors,” He raised two fingers down to Oliver, lowering one quickly after, “but one of them is for ‘Faustus’.”

“What was the favor for?” Oliver’s head drifted to the side.

“One of them was more of an assignment out of anything, actually, but the other was so I could get some favors back.” Vittorino leaned by on a sign pole. “The one that wasn’t from the guy was basically just to check up on you from time to time. The assignment I can’t really tell. It’s about to be done though.”

“I swear to god, if you’re gonna screw me over somehow-”

“Don’t worry,” Vittorino rolled his eyes, “It’ll be beneficial for you.”

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t trust that at all.”

Vittorino chuckled and shrugged. “Fine then.” He stepped towards Oliver, slamming something to Oliver’s chest.

Oliver coughed at the impact, but caught the item he handed. He opened his hands to find a ten-dollar bill. Turning to see Vittorino, he already found the mystery to be walking away from him. He dashed to catch up with him. “Where’d you get this?”

“I asked a guy and he just gave it to me.”

“But nobody can see you…?”

Vittorino lifted a finger. “I can be seen if I want, I just usually hide myself for the sake of it.” He dumped his hands into his pockets. “You needed ointment, right?”

Oliver tensed. “Yes…” he nodded, guilt building up inside of him again.

“Go buy some then. Get extra stuff if you want,” Vittorino told. “Have fun, kid.”

He was gone before Oliver could say anything. The red-head was left alone in the street. He looked back to his hand, covered over by a single bill. Pulling up his sleeves, he stared blankly and sighed, a small puff of cold air seeping out of his breath.

“Might as well.”

Next >>>

#my writing #writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #chapter 1 #gore warning #blood warning #implication of self harm #all are kinda minor but just pointing it out #bst oliver #bst vittorino #here we go yall

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toads-treasures · 5 years

Note

20 for Nora/Danse :)

20.) On a scar

“You’re quiet this evening,”

Nora’s eyes flicked up to his briefly before dropping back down to resume the perusal of her own palms. Shaun was asleep in his room and the various reports of trade routes, crop production, and new defense measures from various settlements were neatly stacked on her bedside table as she sat cross legged atop the patched quilt spread across their bed. The salvaged book she had been reading lay untouched in front of her, still closed.

“Am I?” She asked, raising one eyebrow as she ran the forefinger of her left hand across the palm of her right.

Danse rolled up the plan he’d been tinkering with for an improved turret and pushed in the chair to his desk before joining her on the bed, sitting carefully on the end, “Something on your mind?”

Her lips twitched in a half hearted smile, “There’s always something on my mind, it’s getting it to turn off that’s the problem,”

“Still deftly avoiding my questions, even after all this time?” He asked with a smirk. Nora’s smile broadened, if only just. She scooted closer to the middle of the bed, clearing a space for him which he gladly filled. He settled against the headboard as she rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, and she burrowed closer to him, nuzzling her face into his neck while tucking her hands into her armpits.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against his skin, causing a shiver to run up his spine, “Nothing serious anyway. Just a case of the old world blues, I suppose.”

Danse’s heart pinched. It was astonishing how easy it was to forget. Forget that Nora had known so much of a world that was so utterly lost to him. She so seldom spoke of it, and so seldom yearned for it, at least aloud, that Danse hardly thought of her life from before. He felt suddenly callous and selfish. He felt that the nearness of her, the warmth of her cheek against his shoulder, the feel of her breath ghosting across his skin, was a gift that he would always be undeserving of.

“I used to get manicures, every week if you can believe it,” she said, holding her hands out for inspection. She picked at a ragged scab on her knuckle and tried to scrape some dirt out from under her thumbnail, “rather ridiculous to think about now. I would pay an exorbitant amount of money to have a stranger soak my hands in fancy soaps and oils,” she turned her hand around and splayed her fingers out, “Tend to the cuticles, shape and polish my nails for me, massage my hands,” she huffed out a humorless laugh, “they used to be so soft, now look at them.” She ran her thumb over her chapped knuckles, tracing a jagged scar that followed the joint of her thumb and cut across her palm. “I don’t even remember where half of these scars are from,” she said, turning her hands this way and that so that the dim lamp by their bedside flickered across the shining scar tissue.

“This one,” Danse took her hand, trying to ignore the jolt his heart made when he did, even after all this time, “this one is from where you nearly cut your thumb off with Sturges’ ‘repaired’ band saw. We were building the schoolhouse in Sanctuary.”

Nora looked up at him and he felt the all too familiar rush of blood up to his cheeks but he didn’t look away from her hand, still rubbing his thumb methodically across her knuckles.

“This,” he traced a thin line that started between the first two knuckles of her right hand, raced between her fingers and down to the heel of her hand almost to her wrist, “is from the time that Yaoi Guai had us cornered and we had to scale those rocks. We didn’t even notice it was bleeding until we got back to the castle, and the thing you were most upset about was that you ruined your one good pair of jeans. The ones that weren’t cargo pants.”

She laughed again, this time much warmer, and Danse’s lips twitched up in a smile. He took her other hand and turned it over, tracing the shining pink and uneven scar that started where her thumb joined her palm and ended near her pinky.

“And this one,” his voice dropped down to something almost like a whisper, “is from the storm.”

“Storm?” Nora’s eyebrows quirked, “What storm?”

“It was one of your first days on the Prydwen,” he said, carefully avoiding her gaze, “a thunderstorm caught us unawares and we were trying to tie down canvases over the supplies near the forecastle, just the two of us. The wind yanked the rope out of your hand and you weren’t wearing the gloves I’d told you to.”

“You remember that?”

“I’m surprised you don’t,” Danse glanced up then quickly looked away, almost dropping her hand. She was looking up at him, her eyes soft and expression unguarded. He flushed all the way up to his hairline,“it troubled you for weeks.”

“I didn’t say anything to you about it hurting, did I?” She curled her hand around his and smiled, “I’m sure I didn’t. I wouldn’t have given you the satisfaction of being right about the gloves.”

“You didn’t have to say anything,” he brought her hand up, his lips skimming the puckered line of scar tissue. He glanced up at her, still feeling the residual blush in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and let his mouth trail down to her wrist, feeling her pulse thump against his lips, “I noticed.”

“And you remember...”

He turned her hand over carefully and pressed a kiss to her dry knuckles,

“Every single one.”

#Nora Mai #Danse #this one is so cheesy someone stop me #Paladin Danse #nora/danse #Paladin Danse fanfic #fallout 4 #fallout #fallout fanfiction #danse/sole #danse x female sole #kiss prompts #danse fic

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baekberrie · 5 years

Text

🍯h o n e y - bbh🍯

🍯Romance, fluff, School trip AU

🍯Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

🍯1k and birthday special

🍯enjoy! xoxo✨💖🍓

Cicadas were welcoming the season of love with their singing as the snow-white curtains fluttered gracefully in front of the windows. The quiet sound of the ticking clock faded under the teacher's voice as she announced the groups for the next week's school trip. Between your orange fingertips was a pen spinning absentmindedly- not entirely paying attention to what Mrs.Kim was saying, your gaze was bought on the view outside and you found yourself staring and the white, fluffy clouds and how they formed into funny shapes. Closing your eyes, you could hear the faint noise of water flowing down a stream near your school. A summer trip huh? You had never put much meaning to these kinds of events, although you did have a few friends to spend the trip with- loud and crowded places had never been your favorite. Would it be worth it to go? You wondered, well, it certainly wouldn't do any harm- but what was making you doubt was the fact that you had yet no real reason to go. You had longed for the summer break so that you could've dived into the world of another magical book, and eventually forget anything else about your own. Sitting by the slightly open window with the sun rays painting the pages and the soft breeze caressing your skin had always been one of the moments you cherished the most. To feel every word and emotion described in the novel, those were things that had given you life, energy and will to go on. Your life hadn't been an easy one and sometimes you just felt like you had to come away from it at least for a while. If there was another world where you could dream in, you had jumped into without any second thoughts. And that was why books were your salvation.

"Y/n, Sarah, Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Chanyeol are in group number 3." Your eyes suddenly snapped open at the familiar sound of your name being called, skimming with your gaze through the classroom you tried to find the people that Mrs.Kim had just assigned you with. Jongdae, Sehun, and Chanyeol were pretty easy to spot, these guys were the loudest and the overly friendliest in the whole class, not that it was necessarily a bad thing- in fact even though they weren't your cup of tea, you found yourself not getting annoyed at them as much as you used to one time. Perhaps it was the way they didn't get ahead of themselves for being popular, or maybe it was because they had many times mustered kindness to you. Probably both.

Searching further, your gaze landed on the girl at the desk next to yours- ah, she was the kind of girl who'd rock any type of outfit, even the school's dull uniform looked nice on her. Her hair was a golden shade of blonde as it gracefully curled inwards by her shoulders, it didn't seem like she had been paying any attention to the teacher either; with her gaze fixed on her perfectly healthy and manicured hand, searching for any imperfections on her nails. A beautiful and satisfied smile made it's way on her face when she decided that her nails were indeed as perfect as they could be. Sighing for yourself you directed your gaze back on the teacher, this was going to be an interesting trip.

A frown creased between your brows when you recalled the third name that your teacher had called out- feeling quite unfamiliar with it. Maybe it was because you were such a loner that you sometimes forgot about newcomers and such- but Baek... Baek what was it again? Ah, Byun Baekhyun, when you gave it thought you knew that this hadn't actually been the first time hearing it. In fact, as soon as you remembered it, your gaze automatically detached from the beautiful view of a celeste summer sky and started skimming through the classmates to acknowledge the appearance of this fairly new student. A certain platin blonde head only a few seats away caught your eyes' attention. His brown almond eyes were garnished with long and delicate eyelashes barely kissing his orangy cheeks. His hand was pressed against his cheek as he leaned into it. It wasn't in you to stare at people, but this person, he was so beautiful. His skin was light and velvety, for that matter, you'd never thought you'd ever find yourself admiring someone's hands- but Baekhyun's just had something so astonishing to them, with long and elegant fingers, not even the beauty mark placed perfectly on the corner of his thumbnail went unnoticed. Without even noticing you had fallen in a complete trans, studying his every detail as if he was the most exciting page of your favorite book, not missing a single detail. However, he must have felt your gaze because his eye suddenly met yours- nearly giving you a heart attack. You gave a tragic attempt of looking down on your desk and started scribbling on a nonexistent paper sheet, probably even more ridiculous. The blood rushed to your face and you scowled to yourself, covering the redness of your face by pressing your palms against your cheeks.

What the heck. ☀️☀️☀️

The sun's rays shining felt scorching hot against your bare arms, autobuses stood in lines and big crowds of students were waiting outside of them. Loud chatters echoed through the whole parking lot and in the air was a stuffy scent of gasoline. With a loud sigh heaving from your lips, you asked yourself if you had made the right choice by coming here. Avoiding the uncomfortable sweat and warmth was such a tempting thought that you wondered what in the world had pushed you to come here. School trips had never been anything you'd prefer over anything, and yet, there you were in the queue for the bus under the burning hot sun, grumbling but yet not doing anything about it. It wasn't obligational so you had no reason to stay in that crowd. But a tiny little voice in the back of your head had been whispering that maybe you'd miss out on something great if you'd stay at home. Fine, fine! Just stop. You angrily thought to yourself and crossed your arms over your chest, officially losing the inner war you were having with your own thoughts.

"Are you going to move or...?" Someone called after you and you realized that you had been standing still in the crowd although a lot of people had already started entering the busses, mumbling a quick apology you gathered yourself together and climbed the high stairs of the big vehicle. Everyone in the bus seemed to have someone to sit and spend the hours-long ride with, while you didn't. It would have been natural for you to feel slightly alone and sad about it, however, there was no such emotion in you, because in your bag was one of your favorite novels of all times and the eager to read it was consuming you. Getting to sit alone only meant complete peace for you and your book, in that way you could dedicate every piece of you to the beautiful words printed on the pages.

With a content sigh, you let your back sink into the soft material of the bus seat, enjoying the rare fact that the school had bothered to hire nice and comfortable buses for once. Not a moment went to waste and you immediately started fumbling with your bag, reaching for the so longed book. You felt the excitement buzz within you when your fingers came in contact with the familiar material of the book's cover, feeling the patterns with your fingertips. "Is that seat taken?" The soft voice came from above and the first thought that passed your head was the fact that it had been so low that you'd almost barely heard it. You weren't familiar with it, in fact, you couldn't say you had ever heard it before. Lifting your gaze, your eyes met with two chocolate brown orbs, two dark oceans that you had indeed looked into before. The blonde boy was wearing no expression as his hands held the straps of his backpack in place by his chest. You couldn't help but slide your eyes down his body, taking notice to his extremely cute outfit- blue shorts and a white shirt in which it's collar weaved into the pattern of a sailor's uniform.

Without making him wait for too long you shook your head, signaling him to take the seat, so he did. You didn't know why the fact that he was sitting next to you made you feel a tad bit more self-conscious, so, as discreetly as possible you pulled the book out of your backpack and scooted closer to the window, feeling the need of being as far away from as possible. His scent reached your senses and the fact it smelled so good and that it was unavoidable for you to not smell it bothered you to no end. A crisp kind of scent that had a refreshing effect on your lungs, like newly washed soap, fresh and delicate.

So unpleasantly pleasant.

It didn't take long before you shrugged it off and opened the book with eager, ready to take part in another world where you could lose yourself entirely without any worries. Your eyes met the first line of words and that was the very moment when you transitioned into the pages, living each and every sentence. You had managed to block out any sound of chatter that stayed in the background, however, there was one voice that you hadn't expected to even speak up and so the moment the boy next to you parted his lips, the magic of the book suddenly ended. "That's a famous novel isn't it?" His voice came like a soft caress against your ears, you felt and odd throb squeeze on your heart as you didn't feel any annoyment by the fact that he had interrupted you from your religious reading like you usually would. Instead, an unfamiliar excitement bubbled in your chest as you faced him with big, enthusiastic eyes, holding the precious book to your chest. "Yes! It's John Green's sixth novel, so awesome! Do you perhaps like any of his works?" You had no idea where the sudden sociality was coming from- but anytime anyone recognized John Green's works, this one, in particular, it never failed to wake sudden happiness and eagerness to talk about it within you. You weren't a very talkative person, but when it came to the things you loved, you felt like you could speak about them for hours and still find new things to say about them. Baekhyun flinched slightly back at your cheerful reaction, having not seen that coming. He found it amazing how your eyes had in a matter of seconds gone from uncertain to glittering with affection and excitement towards the topic of a book. Pretty...He thought but immediately shooed it away. You were hopefully waiting for his answer, feeling like you had finally found someone who shared your interests, nevertheless, you were only disappointed when he awkwardly cleared his throat and leaned against his seat, looking away from you again. "Not really," He mumbled against his palm, back to the low and unhearable voice. Looking at you from the corner of his eyes, he could see how the shine in your eyes slowly died down and he couldn't help but feel bad about that. Your teeth dug deep into your lip as you detached the book from your chest and placed it back in your lap, running a soft hand over it. Had you been too excited? Had you scared him off? Squeezing your eyelids together you tried to forget the past minutes, feeling embarrassed and upset about the way you gave out yourself like that again, just because of a simple comment of a person. This hadn't been the first time you had gotten overly excited over something of the kind, and every time you regretted it. While you were feeling remorseful in your seat, you didn't notice the flustered apple red that painted the blonde boy's cheeks. ☀️☀️☀️ Frustratedly enough, the past happenings decided to haunt you even when you were supposed to sleep. With your forearm resting on your forehead, you stared up at the barely visible ceiling, regretting your actions, having an inner war with yourself on whether you had been too rash or if you should just stop questioning everything you did. It didn't always have to be you, the weird one, right? Right, why couldn't that Baekhyun guy be weird as well, in the end, he had been the one showing interest and then suddenly ending the conversation so abruptly. You were glad that it was currently night and dark in the room because you had a tendency of making odd expressions and gestures with your hands when you were trying to conclude something in your head. The warmth of the summer was almost unbearable and you wondered if you were ever going to fall asleep while you were so conscious of the fact that your skin was damp and sweaty, making you uncomfortable. With a sigh, you couldn't help but think that it would've been really ideal to read one of your favorite books so that you could focus on something that wasn't the weird things that you found yourself experiencing, or maybe that shoujo manga that your friend had pestered you about- no, no that would only fill your head with weird thoughts and expectations. Yeah, you could never go wrong with a book, but you were sure that your roommates wouldn't appreciate it at such an hour, so you contented yourself with recalling your favorite scenes inside your imagination. ☀️ ☀️ ☀️ Half past eight in the morning and the camping's lodges were already empty, the whole park filled with students chattering while waiting in line for the necessary equipment of today's events. While you were struggling to keep your eyes from closing Chanyeol was the one standing in line, since he had given himself the role as the team leader and had with motivation offered himself to take any responsibility. You found it funny how nobody had objected. Jongdae seemed to be bonding with the beautiful Sarah and Baekhyun was standing with them without really saying anything. Even today was an incredulously hot day and you mentally cursed yourself for not bringing a fan because the amount of fresh air that your sole hand was creating through the waves was pathetic. "Today we fish!" Chanyeol exclaimed once he came back with a rather big bag hanging down his shoulder, not just his lips were into a wide smile but also his eyes were two glittering crescent moons and the way he was barely holding his excitement made a soft smile twitch on your lips. The boy was so tall you could never lose him even in a big crowd and his habit of dyeing his hair into unusual colors made him stick out even more. But you didn't mind him, he was one of the popular kids and he didn't boast about it, hence, sometimes you wondered if he even was aware of it himself. You liked to observe people and every time you found yourself looking at Chanyeol he wouldn't seem to be aware of the admiring gazes directed at him and just continued being in his colorful world spreading smiles.

"Fishing?" you repeated, Chanyeol sensed the hidden question and nodded enthusiastically, a smile never leaving his lips. "Yep, for today's dinner, at the campfire," he explained and now that he said it you found it rather smart of the teachers to plan it this way. You nodded back with a weak smile and didn't say more, the boy moved on to rest of the group and announced the same things he'd just told you. As soon as Chanyeol said the word fishing you could see a grimace flash for the shortest second on Sarahs face as she lowered her gaze to her hands and you figured out she must have been worried of her manicured fingers and nails, however, it was, she didn't voice her complaints and you found yourself liking that trait of hers, yet another nice person in this group. You had been in her same class multiple times and from what you saw she had always been someone who cared about her appearance and health, but not in an attention seeking way. She knew that she was beautiful and didn't need to say it herself for people to notice. It was her confidence, that made her even finer. Jongdae seemed rather surprised by the choice of events but didn't complain, you had always seen him as the very positive person of the class, not to mention overly cheerful. He eyed Chanyeols bag with some sort of approved and nodded. "never heard that one before but ik sure it can be great fun." He thought out loud, "Do you want some help with that though?" Jongdae asked, arms already extended and ready to help but Chanyeol immediately waved it away.

"it's okay bro, we can switch later, thanks though." You were glad you had been put in a group of people who had a great relationship with each other and that had no problems with bonding with others who they didn't know. Even though you weren't a social butterfly, you found yourself appreciating people who made the situation comfortable for everyone. Your eyes pulled to the Blonde boy standing next to Jongdae and surprised yourself with the first thought flashing through your head was that he looked really good in that plain white tee and jeans shorts. It was such a simple outfit and yet it looked so much more on him and that was somehow something very interesting for you, you found yourself trying to find the right words to describe his slant and slim frame. Eyes squinted into a concentrated expression, you didn't realize the way you were very much staring at Baekhyun until his eyes suddenly met yours and you looked away at the velocity of light, heart shook in your chest at the sudden happening. You loved reading and now you had the habit to observe people just to describe them in your own writing inside of your head, but why was it you it was so hard to put this boy into words? Perhaps because of the way his gaze gave away nothing, perhaps because he wouldn't let you see anything unless you knew him. Some people were like open books, some were like diaries with a lock. For some reason, you couldn't let go if that thought.

Every group was assigned with a certain fishing area so that the big amount of people wouldn't scare the fishes away, and so, your group started moving towards its destination. You believed it wasn't far, at least that was what Jongdae had stated after taking a look on the map that had come with the equipment. Chanyeol and Jongdae were absorbed into a conversation and Sarah contributed every now and then while you and Baekhyun walked behind in silence. You felt the urge to start a conversation but the thought only brought you back to the moment he had spoken to you in the bus and the embarrassment held you back. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, his hands were in his pockets as his eyes were watching his own feet move, he looked deep in thought so you used it as an excuse to convince yourself not to talk to him.

The walk was about half an hour which in your opinion wasn't that long at all, since there were trees on the way, the sun hadn't been as unbearable as it had been in the park this morning. At least now you had a soft breeze soothing on your damp skin. The closer you got the more you could feel the salty scent of the sea not too far away, the sound of its waves crashing against the sand was faint but still enough to get into you into that peaceful mood. When you had arrived at the fishing area Chanyeol started right away with giving out to everyone a fishing rod. You eye it skeptically, trying to figure out how it was supposed to be prepped. You had the fishline but you had no idea where to start wrapping it. You had stood there cluelessly for maybe five minutes without really doing anything, trying to sneak a look on the other guys to see how they were doing it but no matter how intently you watched you couldn't just figure it out. It seemed so easy, the fact made you too shy and hesitant to ask in person. That was until the fishing rod suddenly disappeared from your grip and was replaced by a ready one, bewildered you looked up at the person before you with wide and startled eyes. You were surprised to find Baekhyun standing in front of you, casually threading the fishline through the rings as if it was something he did every day. The soft breeze scattered his platinum bangs ever so slightly but he still managed to look perfect.

"Thank.. Thank you," You murmured hesitantly and he just nodded. "Do you know how to use it?" Baekhyun questioned, finally detaching his eyes from the rod and locking them with yours, watching you with a sort of intensity that made you feel self-conscious, your first instinct was to look away and shake your head instead of voicing your answer. "Then I shall teach you," You were confused, so was Baekhyun quite and reserved or bold and confident? How could someone give out such different vibes at the same time? For some reason this new confusion also made a certain interest for him grow within you and oddly enough you did nothing to stop it. You didn't feel like ignoring this feeling and avoid it, you didn't know why. But something deep within you said that maybe even a life like yours could turn into a wonderful story written by your favorite authors, though, you had no idea why that thought came at that moment nor why you related it to Baekhyun. You followed his movements and successfully through the line into the water, not as far as he had done but you still saw him giving you an approving nod from the corner of your eye. "Books, I really like them." The silence broke with Baekhyun's soft murmur and for a moment you had to process the fact that he had just talked. "Huh? But you-" First he tells you he doesn't have an interest in books and now he does? Was that how Baekhyun was? Indecisive? Or maybe confused. You frowned at him and really wondered what went through his head when his cheeks turned a shade redder. The boy cleared his throat and avoided your gaze.

"I actually really like books, especially John Green." When the familiar name rolled off his tongue you felt how your heart swelled with excitement and you bit your lips to keep yourself from reacting like the last time he had said something of the sort. "John Green's 6th novel is my favorite too." He continued and at this point, you started to think that maybe you were hearing things wrong because could these words really come out of his mouth? From the same boy was had denied it just a day ago? Despite your bubbling excitement, confusion took over your face and when Baekhyun stole a look he gave you an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry I said the opposite yesterday, I lied."

"But why?" The question was fast from you and you surprised yourself.

"I guess I felt a little overwhelmed, I've never met someone so enthusiastic about books, I thought I was the only bookworm in our class," Baekhyun explained, his voice was calm and it was in perfect combination with the soft sounds of the water hitting the shore, you decided that you liked it, in fact, you found yourself wishing he'd talk more just so that you could try to get used to his voice.

"You know, many people read books," You stated with a barely noticeable glint of mock in your voice, just to try to hide the embarrassment, you had actually overwhelmed him with your enthusiasm. You gave yourself a mental slap. Chill Y/n, you need to chill. "Well yes, I know, I just tend to forget about it." "How though?" You asked, directing your gaze back to the where you had thrown the fishline, wondering if there would be any fish in this area, to begin with.

Baekhyun twisted the fishing reel a few times so that he could throw the line again. "Because I don't surround myself with many people, so in the end, it tends to be only me and myself." His words left you slightly stunned but you nodded with understatement because you could genuinely relate to that.

"Yeah, I see where you're coming from." you agreed, feeling suddenly a wave of braveness buzz through your body because the next words that left your lips weren't anything like you'd ever say to someone you had just started talking to. Was this what they meant in books? When it felt like you'd known a person your whole life while it's the complete opposite?

"Well we both like books and John Green, so it doesn't really need to be you and yourself anymore," Was that too bold? Was that going to scare him away a second time? Because in all honesty, these were things that his presence was making you say these things, because you felt a pull towards him and it was a totally new thing to you, you didn't know what it was nor what to call it, but you felt that if you wouldn't become close with this person under this trip, it might be too late later.

"That'd be nic-" You didn't hear Baekhyun's answer because the next thing you felt was a sudden strong pull at your fishing rod that sent you flying into the sea. A splash resounded into the air and an inhuman noise left your throat when you didn't feel the ground under your feet anymore. Ice cold water embraced your body, covering it with immediate shivers as you felt your own brain freeze. Eyes wide and too shocked to realize what had just happened, but your daze was soon shattered by the loud laugh echoing through the trees and surroundings. Your eyes shot to Baekhyun who was currently bending over his stomach, happy laughter bubbling from his throat and glistening tears crystallized into his eyelashes. Suddenly, the cold water didn't matter anymore. Did you say his voice was beautiful? Because his laugh was so and even more, you found yourself wishing to capture this moment so that you could replay it how many times you wanted.

"You look hilarious!" He said before he got into another fit of laughter, annoyed you fixed the wet hair from your face and scowled at him while getting up to your feet, not forgetting to bring the fishing rod with you. "Thanks, that's not funny." You weren't really angry at him, but he didn't need to know that as long as you'd get to hear his laugh a while more. Baekhyun was still giggling to himself as he for a moment placed his rod on the ground and went to grab a towel from Chanyeol's bag. Cold air hit you unbearably when you stepped out of the water, barely keeping your balance on the slippery stones but Baekhyun steadied you by grabbing your arm before you could fall into the water again, "Easy there," He said, eventually throwing the towel around your shoulders. His hands were still holding the ends of the towel but you didn't want to question the motive, the irrational part of you could have him standing like that for hours and you'd still appreciate it. His eyes were roaming your miserable state, taking in your wet hair and damp skin. "You'll get a cold, what do we do?" he lamented with genuine worry and you liked it, liked the way it made you feel, even if it was so out of your character, but you couldn't help but let it happen. The more time you spent with him, you felt yourself become a more open person. However, only when around him.

"We certainly shouldn't laugh about it." You grumbled and his lips twitched into such an adorable smile that you felt your heart squeeze at the view. "Don't remind me of your majestic fall then," It seemed that behind that wall of his, Baekhyun could be a pretty cheerful person, not to mention his love for teasing, you would've never guessed. You could only think that maybe your fall into water wouldn't have been such a bad thing after all. But despite his cheery side, he could also be very calm and peaceful and you found yourself loving that part of him. That part of him that made his voice sound so delicate and smooth, with slow and well-articulated words leaving his pink lips, after just a few hours of fishing with him, you finally found the right word to describe him. Honey, he was like honey, just like there were so many types of kinds of honey, there were many sides of him, and what all of them share is the sweetness. He was just sweet. You had never thought about putting your own self into words, but after a few deep thoughts, you realized something. That your heart was indeed very ambitious. Because you barely knew this boy, and your heart had already started dedicating its beats to him, and for some reason, you didn't feel like stopping that from happening. He was a flower, and you the bee being pulled to it.

☀️☀️☀️

By four in the afternoon, groups of students were already starting to head back to the camp, some had entire bucks filled with fish and you couldn't help but feel bad about the three fishes twitching in your group's buck, it was probably because you had fallen into the water that the rest of them had gone away. Chanyeol and Jongdae had been rather frustrated but they also forgot about it soon after returning to the camp. They had currently been asked to start the big campfire and that was when your group parted, well almost. Sarah went back to the lodges while Baekhyun stood by your side, wondering what to do himself.

The white towel was still wrapped around your shoulders and you pulled it tighter to create some extra warmth every now and then. You glanced at Baekhyun from under your lashes but looked immediately away when you saw that he had done the same. He cleared his throat but never got to say anything as one of the teachers' called for the two of you to come.

"Hey, you two! Don't stand there and come help!" She probably didn't realize it but you mentally thanked her for saving you from a possibly awkward situation. Without giving the boy another glance you headed with fast steps towards Mrs.Kim, Baekhyun followed close after. A list of multiple utensils was given to you, "Could you please get these at the storehouse and give it to today's cooking team?" Without objection, you nodded and started heading where she had told you, just like before, Baekhyun wordlessly followed you like a puppy, but you didn't mind it. His presence made you look forward to every few seconds, minutes and hours. Even if it was afternoon, the sun didn't show any signs of setting anytime soon, cicadas sang and you adored the orange color giving a golden glow to your surroundings. Summer, it was truly something beautiful. Summer that gave you warmth, summer that gave you flowers and smiles, summer that made you fall in love.

A small cloud of dust formed in the air when you pushed the old, wooden door to the storehouse open, which made you wonder just when had been the last time that someone had been in here. When you stepped in, it was brighter than you had imagined, there were smaller windows higher up on the walls who let in the warm shade of light, making it possible for you to even see the particles of dust flying around the air. Only your quiet breathing was hearable as none of you spoke up, eyes searching after the needed material. The floor creaked slightly under the pressure of your foot and a cringe twisted your lips, nonetheless, you continued forward to the big box placed on a table in the center of the room. More dust flew into the air when you lifted the lock and you could only feel bad about the cooking team, these things would use a good amount of cleaning.

"Will it really be okay to use these for the cooking?" Baekhyun hesitated once he saw the content of the box, eyeing it with reluctance, you couldn't relate more. "I'm asking myself the same question. But there's nothing other than this, so they'll have to clean it really well." Baekhyun nodded understandingly and you started to pick up what you supposed was what the teacher had meant when she wrote it down on the note. Baekhyun chuckled at the way you were grabbing it solely with the tips of your index finger and thumb, to avoid as much dust as possible, the sound made your heart swell with a sweet feeling that you didn't dare to name yet.

Baekhyun's gaze eventually switched from the content in the box to you, you and your long eyelashes glistening under the orange color of the sun, you with the towel wrapped around your small frame, your delicate fingertips and its silly way to avoid dirt. You and your pretty, damp hair. He couldn't help himself when his hand reached out to grab twirl of your hair, running his pretty thumb over it. At the sudden action, you felt your chest squeeze and your head turned so that you could meet his gaze. He was holding your hair close to his face as he observed it for another second before locking eyes with you. You wondered if you were the only one that felt something explode within your chest, you wondered if he knew how unfair it was for him to look at you with that intense expression that made you feel like he knew every and each way that he was making you feel. The heat reached your cheeks and you wanted to somehow cover your face so that he wouldn't have to see you in such a vulnerable state but you couldn't just detach your eyes from his.

"Your hair is still damp, you'll catch a cold.." His voice was this time an ounce lower and his murmur was like a warm caress on your ears. Swallowing the lump in your throat you shook your head ever so slightly, "I couldn't possibly get sick under the summer season," You reasoned, surprised with the fact that you had formed a normal sentence without stuttering, in the end, you couldn't deny the fact that this boy had an effect on you and your behavior, this was one of the moments where he'd trigger the way your heart beats, the way you felt so small under his gaze.

"That's what everyone says before getting sick," He disagreed and dropped your hair, going for the towel around your shoulders, he lifted it and gently draped it over your head, his hands massaged your scalp as he ruffled slowly the towel in hope that it would dry your hair faster. Baekhyun's movements started to get slower and slower until his hands started sliding down to the sides of your face, keeping them there and you found yourself looking back at him with a dazed expression on your face, not sure what to do with yourself. It would have been really ironic if you actually caught a cold now that you were slowly admitting your feelings for him, wouldn't it?

☀️☀️☀️ 4 days had already passed so fast that you could barely believe it, you were glad that you had come, in the end, your instincts had been right. You had actually enjoyed the time with your team on this trip with the school and you found yourself smiling as you'd never done before, it was a whole other world that had never even thought existed and it was only fair to say that you wanted to take part of it more often. You had never expected yourself to loosen up so much and have fun without any worries. But you were sure it was only thanks to the people in your group exclusively, you didn't think it would've been the same if it hadn't been with like this. You liked to appreciate the way every member of your team clicked with each other just right and all in different ways. Slowly but surely, you were coming out of your shell and spreading your little wings wider and wider.

It was currently evening and the campfire was still on, some students were hanging around the park while your group sat by the fire with some other people and sang together as Chanyeol had brought with him his very precious guitar, he had incredible skills that you would have never guessed for. While Jongdae who sang for him had a voice that wasn't even in this world, it was angelic, to say the least, you hoped that someone had told him that because he deserved to be aware of it. Sarah hummed along with a serene smile dancing on her face while from Jongdae's lips came melodious words from a song known by everyone.

Baekhyun was on your other side, doing the same as everyone else, just a tad more discreetly, singing along rather quietly but you felt blessed to sit next to him because you could still hear the melody of his voice and you were sure that it was at last as angelic as Jongdae's if not even more. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, just to sneak a peek at his singing expressions, but he caught you and the smile he sent you broke your heart. Baekhyun who shined like the sun, Baekhyun who was sweet like honey, Baekhyun who turned hours into minutes.

It was the last night at the camp and you should have expected your teammates to do something that was a bit against the rules, but you figured there were worse things to do, in fact, you felt and excited rush buzz through your veins when you entered the tent of another group. Plus, Baekhyun was there too so the part of you who struggled to feel comfortable was immediately soothed by his sole presence behind you.

Small candles were brightening up the tent, on the ground were sleeping bags laid across the ground, forming a floor on the grass. The group who had invited you had provided snack and games, just a few moments later you were all sat down with a pair of cards between your fingers, talking nonsense and throwing the cards into the small pile in the center of your ring. You had lost count of times that your eyes had met with Baekhyun's during this one card game match, not to mention how you felt your heart attempt to come out of your chest every time.

Shy but meaningful glances, you found yourself wanting more of those.

You were just going to make your next move into the game when Sarah suddenly grabbed your arm and the whole tent froze, for a second you thought you heard everyone's breath hitch inside their throats as there was a familiar adult voice resounding through the park. Chanyeol's eyes were wide with horror as his lips said "Mrs.Kim" and everyone took that as a clue to start blowing the candles out and hide, they all moved out of their seats but you had no idea what was happening and much less where to go. The people hurriedly rushing back and forth in the tent, hushed whispers, for a moment everything started moving in slow motion before your eyes, the sudden confusion making it hard for you to get a hold of the situation.

A gasp left your lips when you were all of sudden pulled down under a blanket by someone and only then you realized that the whole tent had gone dead-quite, a sudden brightness flashed through the tent when the teacher passed by with their flashlights and you understood that you were hiding. Thanks to the light you were able to see your savior and you barely kept in the massive sigh of relief when you saw it was someone you knew, Baekhyun to be exact. Your heart started to calm down, but that didn't last long because suddenly you were very aware of every part of his body that was in contact with yours. Knees bumping and arm draped loosely over your waist. Even though there were layers of clothing keeping his knees and hands from making direct contact with you, your skin still felt like it caught fire. Only when his warm mint breath hit the side of your cheek you realized how close your faces were, his blonde hair was barely brushing against your forehead as he stared right into your eyes, not giving you the chance to escape the blooming of your overwhelming feelings. Before you knew it, you had started tracing his every face trait with your gaze, barely keeping yourself from drawing the lined with your fingers. You noticed the absolute heart melting mole constellation extending on his cheek, the way his lips were parted in such a tempting way, the way he looked like came out of a fairytale, he was absolutely ethereal and it made you feel dizzy, out of breath. Lip caught in your teeth you tried to stay as quiet as possible, it was getting hard to breathe under the blankets with him.

You had been sure that nothing could make your heart tremble as much as when he had twirled a strand of your hair around his finger in the storehouse, but Baekhyun wasn't like your favorite book that you knew so well, he was an adventure you'd never taken part of and thus, his surprises never ended. Baekhyun's hand hovered above your cheek before slowly cupping it with his cold palm, sending fresh shivers through your flushed skin. As if he put you under a spell, the world stopped together with your breath hitching inside of your burning lungs, the only thing you heard was the bass of your heartbeat resounding in your eardrums and Baekhyun's soft breath caressing your chin. The pad of Baekhyun's thumb stroke softly and featherlike its way from the apple of your cheek to the corner of your lips, stopping there, his eyes were still on yours, however, he soon lowered his gaze to your lips and the movement made something warm burst within your chest and you wondered if perhaps, this was what they meant in romance novels, when the fireworks lit up in one's heart, lightening everything up with its glistening colors, muting every other sound with its own. Bringing you to another world where it was only the two of you, a world that you didn't want to let go of.

His thumb then traced its way to your lower lip, delicately pulling it from your teeth. It was when he leaned closer to your lips with his own that you started questioning reality. Was this really happening to you? Did this boy really share your same feelings? This wasn't just a mere dream, was it? As if he sensed your doubts, Baekhyun's eyes were before you knew it locked with yours, you felt how his silky smooth fingers gently ran down your fisted hand, curling open your fingers so that he could thread his own through yours, making your body tremble at the lovely contact, another spark lit up within you and he gained another ounce of your trust.

From the moment his hand had touched with yours, your feelings had bloomed, they were now open flowers that grew with the three words that repeated inside your head. You became his flower.

I love you.

A soft pressure appeared on your lips, the sole touch of his own spread a melting warmth through your body and you found yourself leaning into the tenderness of his kiss. His hold around your fingers tightened when you responded hesitantly to his kiss, soon entering a harmony. You could only remark that he tasted so sweet, his lips bearing the syrupy taste of honey. Quiet noises left your slippery lips when they locked with his. Although you wished for the moment to never end, your breath was running out and it was alarming you, so you parted. The two of you stared at each other without saying anything, there were no words needed, your actions had spoken for your feelings. Baekhyun startled you by placing his lips upon yours again without warning, but you soon melted into the second kiss.

Nothing mattered anymore, you felt like your feet had been lifted off the ground, the stars floated and you flew. It sounded like a dream, everything about this moment was so unreal, so dreamy. But the way your heartbeats melted together into one, it was definitely not a dream. With your hands intertwined, with your feelings blooming for the first time like flowers in the spring, with your mutual feelings. You were him, he was you, you were one together.

Your world from yesterday was now different, changed by his joy.

I am you, you are me.

☀️☀️☀️

Hi everyone! With this one-shot, I want to thank you deeply for 1k followers, I've been wanting to do it for so long but I specifically wanted to do it with this one-shot that took me so long to write, and I hope it was worth the long process of work I put into it. I'm posting this on my birthday for another thank you to everyone who follows me and my works, for those who support me and care for me, for everyone who is my friend, thank you for making my time on this website absolutely amazing and filled with joy, I hope we can stay close many years on.

I owe you guys because you have made me so happy many times.

Much love, P✨🌹

(I do not own the gif, credit to owners!)

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years

Text

Who Killed Jason Shaw? Chapter 1: Ellie (RoD, Colt x MC)

Summary: When Ellie finds out about Shaw’s death, she takes the investigation into her own hands.

Rating: R (discussions of death)

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Length: ~1100 words

“Ellie.”

“...”

“Ellie.”

“Mmmm...”

“ELLIE!”

“Aah! Ok! I’m up, I’m up! Ooof.” It had been a late night and she was tired; all she wanted was to sleep in, encased in the warmth of her childhood bed, and enjoy the rest of her Spring Break. After a rough cross-country flight with an hours-long stopover in Denver for some godawful reason, it had been relaxing being home. She had a little innocent fun hanging out at the food court with Riya, a little less innocent fun speeding through city streets and falling into bed sheets with Colt. She thought she deserved a lie in but, apparently, today wasn’t the day for it. At least her dreams had been peaceful, familiar nightmares giving her a reprieve for once.

She stumbled over to her bedroom door and threw it open, blinking sleep from her eyes and struggling to bring her dad into focus. Judging by the look on his face, her fun was ending. “What time is it?”

“After three in the afternoon, Ellie.” Her dad looked at her curiously. “Do you sleep this late at college?”

She groaned and trudged back into her room, tripping over a discarded pair of boots to slide between her sheets with a smirk. “When I don’t have class? Like, during Spring Break, you mean, when I’m allowed to sleep as late as I want?”

“I know, I know.” Her dad scoffed at her before spinning her desk chair around to take a seat. “Sorry, but I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

She sat up and could feel her stomach drop. “What’s up?”

“Jason Shaw died last night.” Her dad was studying her.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “He died. Late last night...well, technically early this morning. The force thinks it was an accident. I’m not so sure.”

“Wait, what? You think someone killed him?” She rubbed the sleep from the corners of her eyes and tried to focus.

“I do.”

Ellie’s mouth fell open as she processed the news. Her dad watched her, for so long it was starting to make her uncomfortable, but she didn’t know what to say. Was she relieved? Ecstatic? Worried?

“I think one of your friends did it.”

“What?!?!”

“That damn crew of car thieves you used to run with? I think one of them did it.”

“But...”

“They have the motive. They have the ability. And Lord knows they have the criminal deviancy to plan this.”

“Dad, I don’t think-” She nervously pulled down the sleeve on her pajama top, tense fingers rubbing the fabric, mind racing. Did he really think...?

“I do.” He thumbed the badge at his chest. “I don’t know which one, but I’m sure they had something to do with it.”

She blinked up at him, words coming slow. “You’re investigating them.”

He didn’t even respond. “I want you to stay away from them.” His face was severe, cold, seething anger just under the surface of his brow. “Ellie, one of them was capable of cold-blooded, premeditated murder.”

Her face fell as her dad stood, hands in fists.

“Stay away from them.” He walked out of the room as Ellie sat, mind whirling. She heard his footsteps down the stairs and then, after a minute, the slamming of the front door. She peered out her window as he hopped into his new cruiser and drove away, waiting until the taillights faded down the road before jumping out of bed to throw on some clothes.

She wasn’t going to let her friends go down for this. She didn’t know how to protect them, but she knew she had to.

And there was no way in hell she was going to stay away from them, either. She had listened to her dad for the vast majority of her life. This was not going to be one of those times.

First step? Investigate. Keeping an ear out, just in case he came back, just in case he knew her better than she thought, she darted out of her room, into the study where her dad could often be found, hunched over files, working late. The small room was right next to his bedroom, space for only his desk, the squeaky chair missing an armrest, and a bookshelf full of old Criminal Justice books and California penal codes. This was the best time to search, when he was out and safely away, and she was sure she had spare time to dig around.

A quick fumble through his desk turned up nothing, unsurprising since the crime happened just last night. Shoulders raised, she booted up the old laptop the station gave him years ago, hoping against hope that it still would connect to the LAPD systems. She bit her thumbnail as the computer struggled to start, processors chugging and sounding like they were preparing for liftoff until, finally, she got the login screen. She put in the familiar password (using her mom’s birth date was such a Gen X identity theft waiting to happen) and grinned to herself when the computer started humming again, struggling to open the program.

After a few minutes of patient waiting, she was able to connect to the internet and make her way into the LAPD portal, the online login that the force used to share information with other precincts. She took a deep breath, started typing, and hoped for the best. And then, after another fifteen minutes of teeth worrying her bottom lip and silent prayer, she was in.

It took her a while to navigate around and working remotely meant some documents were locked, but she was finally able to open up her dad's files. There, the most recent, in big letters: Jason Shaw.

She swallowed, feeling like she was falling down a rabbit hole, and clicked.

Since it had just happened, there wasn’t that much information. Traffic accident. 405-N. High speed collision with the barrier at the median at exit 55. First responders had to put out a massive fire before they could get to the driver. Make of the car matched his registration. They only pulled out one body. Dental record check was in process. Tox screen pending.

She skimmed the whole thing and then went back and read it again, pouring over every word. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was suspicious, what made her dad think he had been murdered, but she knew better than to doubt his instincts. With a sigh, she closed the old brick of a laptop and headed out, closing the study door behind her.

Whatever instincts her dad had, she had something better: a close, intimate relationship with his prime suspects. If he really thought someone in the MPC murdered Jason Shaw, no one was in a better position to investigate than she was. And she knew just where to start.

#amy writes

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seasonofthegeek · 5 years

Text

Love Keeps You Warm: Domestic

Late but written for Alyadrininette Week at @mlshipfleet <3

Parts 1, 2, 3. 4, 5, 6, 7:

“The proofs came in from the formal shoot at the Diplomat.” Gabriel poured a thin stream of cream into his coffee and stirred it in. “I think they showcase the new line well.”

Adrien scooped a wedge from his grapefruit and ate it. It had taken a few weeks to get accustomed to a model’s diet again but he didn’t mind it for the most part. He did miss Marinette’s fresh baked bread though. And Alya’s pancakes. And the way Nino fried up sausage. He glanced down at the grapefruit sourly.

“I’m glad,” he replied after a long pause. “I liked a lot of those pieces.”

“They were created with you in mind so I suppose that can be counted as a success.” Gabriel pursed his lips. “The contract we set is coming to a close soon.”

“It is.”

“And I’m sure you’re aware that Emilie would like to offer you one under the same temporary conditions as ours once this one ends.”

Adrien took his time scooping out another wedge and chewing it thoughtfully. The grapefruit was no piece of sausage but it was still decently good. “Mother reached out to me, yes.”

He’d spent the last two months working with his father. When he’d taken the contract, he knew it would involve more than simply showing up to shoots like any other model would’ve been expected to do. He was brought into meetings and included in planning and it had turned into quite the show. Gabriel was showcasing him as his heir apparent without ever asking if that’s what Adrien wanted.

It was almost comforting in a terrible and twisted way. At least he didn’t have to make any of the decisions.

He’d come here to figure out things about himself but it’d been so easy to fall back into the old way of things. He let Gabriel and Nathalie run his schedule and he fielded phone calls from his mother who wanted him back now that he was returning to the fashion world. He was hearing from her multiple times a week now as opposed to the few times a year from before. He spoke to Alya and Nino almost everyday and that kept him from drinking himself stupid most of the time. They kept him updated on everything going on but they were both always careful not to mention Marinette or the baby in much detail and he could never bring himself to ask for more. Their conversations felt superficial and fake and he knew it was his fault.

He’d been gone two months and wasn’t any closer to fixing himself but he missed the three of them like one of his limbs had been ripped away and he was bleeding out.

He wanted to go home.

He needed to go home.

Why was he even here?

“Why was I your only child?” he blurted out.

Gabriel’s brow furrowed and he set down his coffee cup. “What?”

Adrien dug the tip of his spoon against the rind of the grapefruit and didn’t look across the table at his father. “Why didn’t you ever have any more kids after me?”

“We didn’t want any,” he answered simply. “Later this afternoon, we’ll be meeting with a possible high-end distributor in the States so I’ll need you showered and presentable.”

Adrien ignored his obvious misdirect. “Did you want me or was I an accident?”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “If we didn’t want you, we wouldn’t have had you, Adrien. What’s this about? You’re twenty-nine. What does it matter?”

“I don’t think I want children.”

“They can be quite a handful.” He eyed the younger man warily. “To be honest, I never wanted children either, though my father pushed for it to continue the Agreste name. You weren’t exactly planned but it seemed…fortuitous timing when you were conceived.”

Adrien scrunched his nose. “What’s that mean?”

“Your mother was heir to a hefty fortune from her grandmother held with restrictions. She was the first one of her siblings to marry and have a child so she became the benefactor.”

A sick feeling settled in his stomach. “You and Mom had me so you could get money?”

“Don’t be so crude. Your mother and I loved each other once upon a time. Having a family wasn’t an entirely unpleasant idea.” Gabriel eyed him over the frame of his glasses. “Don’t tell me you are entertaining the idea of having a child now. Your career is just beginning again. They’ll be plenty of time for you to have an heir later.”

“I don’t care about an heir. Why would I?” Adrien pushed his plate away and stood. “I think I’m going out for a walk.”

Seeming relieved to end the conversation, Gabriel nodded. “Don’t be late for our meeting.” ______________________________

“Excuse me, but you are not supposed to be in here.” Alya put a hand on her hip and pointed the white tipped paintbrush in Marinette’s direction. “This is a no pregnant woman zone right now. Fumes!”

“I’m just peeking! It’ll be okay for a second.” Marinette stepped further into the room with a wide smile. “I love the green! Don’t you think it’s perfect?”

“Of course it’s perfect. It’s the shade I picked,” Alya teased, admiring the freshly painted trim around the window. “Now scoot. If Nino gets back from the store and catches you in here, you know you’re in trouble.”

“Fine, fine.” She stepped through the door and into the hall. “Is this better?”

“You’re walking a thin line there, Miss Thang.”

Marinette rubbed her thumb along the doorframe. “So, uh, have you talked to him today?”

“My arms are getting sore and I’m tired and I’m not doing this with you right now. You have Adrien’s number. Call him.”

“I don’t want to talk to him. I just want to know if he’s okay.”

“Then call him.”

“Alya.”

“Marinette.”

Marinette huffed and crossed her arms. “I still don’t like that he left.”

“Then be mad but don’t ask me about him if you aren’t willing to call him yourself.”

She worried her bottom lip. “Does he ask about me?”

“I’m not doing this,” Alya sang as she sat down and dipped her paintbrush back into the paint. She ran it along the edge of the floorboard. “Didn’t you want to work on that dress today? Maybe you should go do that.”

“Yeah, I guess I should,” she replied but didn’t move away from the door. She lightly skimmed her nails along the frame. “Do you still want to have a baby? I mean, not the baby I’m carrying right now, but like one you get to be pregnant with?”

Alya paused in her painting and then began again. “Yeah, I’d like to if we can make it work.”

“I’d really like that too.”

A little tension visibly eased out of her shoulders. “Our kids are going to rule the world.”

Marinette laughed softly and folded down to the floor with a grunt, leaning against the hallway wall and putting one hand on her slightly bulging belly. “I guess I just wanted to bring it up so you knew as far as I’m concerned, I would be happy for that to happen anytime.”

“You trying to tell me you want me and Nino to get it on tonight?”

“I mean I’d like to help too! I can’t exactly do the getting you pregnant part but I can be fun in other ways.” She flashed Alya a smirk and the other woman laughed.

“Still feeling horny, huh?”

“So bad! Why did no one tell me I was going to get super horny in my second trimester?!” She stuck out her bottom lip but it quickly transitioned into a genuine smile. “I mean it though. I’m on board with you getting pregnant whenever you’re ready. If it happened soon, the babies would be pretty close together so we could be doing most stuff at the same time.”

Alya dropped the paintbrush in the pan and scooted to a dry part of the wall she could lean against and still see Marinette through the door. “I think I want to wait until Adrien comes back to talk to him about it.”

“Oh.” Marinette scratched at the nail polish on her thumbnail. “You really think he’s coming back?”

“I do. I even think he’d come back sooner if he heard from you.”

They stared at each other for a long minute. “I may have been a little irrational with him,” Marinette admitted. “But he really hurt my feelings by leaving.”

Alya nodded. “I know that. Believe me when I say I’ve heard my share between the two of you and you’ve both hurt each other.”

“I guess we kinda put you in the middle,” she winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, Nino’s in the middle with me so at least I’m not lonely.” Alya offered her a tight smile. “We want things to be okay between you guys again though and I feel like if you just talked, it would really help.”

“Can I come in the room for a quick second?”

“Why?”

“I just want to kiss you.”

Alya smiled and pushed herself up and went out into the hall to kneel in front of her girlfriend. “How about this instead?”

“Thanks,” she whispered as their lips met. They kissed for a few seconds more and then Alya pulled back.

“You okay?”

Marinette considered it a moment before she answered. “I think I might go for a walk. The fumes are getting to me a little bit.”

Alya nodded and stood to help Marinette up. “Take your phone and rest if you get tired.”

“I will. I’m just going down to the park, I think. Love you.” She kissed Alya’s cheek and went to the kitchen to scoop up her keys and phone. She made it down to the lobby where she ran into Nino, his arms laden with bags from the hardware store.

“Hey, sweetheart, where’re you heading?”

“Just for a walk. I’ll be back in a little while. I’ve got my phone.” She held it up as proof.

His expression was torn. “If you let me run these upstairs, I can go with you.”

Marinette went up on the tips of her toes and cupped his cheek to pull him down for a kiss. “I’ll be fine. Alya needs a break from painting anyway so go help her.” Her fingers lingered against his hairline behind his ear and then she released him.

Nino frowned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she promised. “Really.”

“If you’re sure.” He still didn’t seem convinced but Marinette gave his arm a quick squeeze and continued out of the building before he could argue.

She crossed the street and walked the short block to the small park near their apartment. It was getting close to dinnertime but there were still kids running around and dogs chasing Frisbees. She made her way to a bench she frequented and sat down with a small groan. Every day seemed to bring new aches and growing pains to her body and things that never bothered her before— like walking the block to the park— wore her out.

Marinette looked down at her phone screen and contemplated what she could possibly say to Adrien after not speaking to him for two months. How did one even start that conversation? She didn’t feel like she was entirely in the wrong but telling him he couldn’t come back wasn’t her call to make, not alone anyway. The four of them were in this thing together. And she really did want him to come back. She missed him. Their relationship was completely different from the one she had with Alya and the one she had with Nino. They had their own special thing.

Before she could think herself out of it, she scrolled to his number and hit send.

Just because the event is over, it doesn’t mean the story is! More will be coming soon. Thanks so much for reading. <3

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#Alyadrininette Week #alyadrininette #miraculous ladybug #bread makes you fat #love keeps you warm

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