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thepotentialof2007 · 10 months

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Iota Magazine: Mis Arnott, your association with motor racing is unique. This season Arnott cars have raced frequently, and your activities have extended beyond manufacture to servicing and to team management. Did you intend to go into production when you built your first 500, or was that just an expression of your inherent interest in racing? Daphne Arnott: George Thornton and I made the prototype for fun. One day at Brands Hatch Bob Brown of Bromley saw the car and fell in love with it. He drove the car to win its first race, and then, encouraged by his enthusiasm we decided to manufacture some more. Bob Brown has been our main supporter through many trials, for which we are very grateful. Iota: We referred to your inherent interest in motor racing. Did your early association with racing through your father's activities first arouse your enthusiasm? Arnott: Yes. I come from a long line of engineers dating back to my great grandfather, who was Captain and Secretary of the Bath Road Club. He was also in control of Werner Motor Cycles, who were the originators of the vertical twin. My father is designer of the Arnott supercharger and markets them through his company, Carburettors, Ltd. Iota: But when did you become interested enough in racing to want to take some active part in it? Arnott: In my early days at Brooklands and then as a spectator at Brands Hatch during 1951, when two makes of cars predominated, and it seemed to me there was room for another. Iota: Did you do all the design work on the Arnott yourself? Arnott: No. It was the combined effort of George Thornton and myself. Iota: What have you learned from this season's racing? Arnott: Enough to write a book, but primarily to stick to one's own decisions and not be sidetracked by well-meaning helpers.

Iota: Why did you choose torsion bar suspension for the Arnott 500? Arnott: For Formula III cars I believe it is the suspension of the future. Iota: We hear you are going to use Albion gearboxes in the 1953 cars. Why is this? Arnott: Because the Albion has proved to be the most reliable in every way and it has the best selection of ration to offer. In our prototype car the Albion completed 2,000 hard racing miles without trouble. Iota: What other new features are to be incorporated in next season's car? Arnott: Recent trials have proved to us that the design we have settled on is fast, devoid of roll and virtually unspinnable. There will only be minor modifications - including considerably lighter road wheels. Iota: Do you make these wheels yourself? Arnott: Yes. We machine the entire wheel at our Edgware works and the weight of our newest front wheel is only 10 lb., including hub and races. Iota: In view of your father's long experience, have you any special carburation modifications in view? Arnott: Next season we shall be using a special Arnott carburretor, but I cannot give you any details of that just yet. Iota: What are your views on swing-axle rear suspension? Arnott: Although I think the swing axle system has much to recommend it - it is light and simple - I believe that durability is the important factor in the long run. The main criticism I have against swing axles is the extreme stresses thrown on the driving shafts which tend to fracture at the hub ends. I base my opinion on this season's record, when wheels have been lost on swing-axle cars on numerous occasions, luckily with no fatality to drivers, but there have been very awkward moments for spectators and for other competitors. Iota: Did you find that the long-chassis car was superior to the short-chassis prototype? Arnott: It all depends on the driver's preference. The short chassis prototype does not drift. The longer chassis does. Iota: How many cars have you produced? Arnott: Six cars last season. Our intended production rate was hampered by various modifications incorporated during the year - inevitable with a new design. Iota: What are your future production plans? Arnott: During this winter we intend to build twenty new cars for delivery early in February. Iota: Have you done any competition driving? Arnott: No. To date I have had little time for competition driving. Iota: Do you intend to drive an Arnott in competition? Arnott: Yes but I am one of the few females who agree with men about "Women drivers." A great deal of unwarranted publicity surrounds a woman racing driver, and whether or not she can drive seems unimportant. When I feel I am competent enough to enter a race I will, but I shall be heavily disguised as a man. Iota: Are you running a "works" team next year? Arnott: Yes, but we have not decided how it will be done. Iota: Do you intend to continue indefinitely with a "works" team or will you confine your racing to one "works" entry when your cars have stronger numerical representation? Arnott: We have never run a "works" team, I should like to make that clear. One of the cars in the team has always belonged to me and I will continue to race one car next year. If a team proves to be a commercial proposition for all participants, then I shall certainly continue with it. Iota: It is apparent from your answers that you are a business woman, an engineer and a 500 c.c. motor racing enthusiast. You combine these activities very successfully, but do you find it an advantage or otherwise in being a woman in such [a] competitive sphere? Arnott: It took some time to convince people that a woman could take motor racing seriously.

[x]

Arnott’s 1955 Le Mans’ entry [x]

Other cars built by Arnott in its seven years as a constructor included a supercharged Austin A30-powered sportscar, a streamliner for record-breaking attempts, and a GT car, although a variety of other cars were also made. While Arnott did not blow away the field in races, they did manage to break nine International Class I records at Montlhery in October 1953. John Brise, father of Formula 1 driver Tony Brise, piloted the 500cc streamliner – based on the standard 500cc chassis but with beautifully sculpted bodywork – to a fastest lap of 122mph, and set new records for 50km, 50 miles, 100km, 100 miles, 200km, 200 miles, 500km, 1 hour, and 3 hours. In 1955, Daphne Arnott took an eight-person team to the ill-fated 24 Hours of Le Mans endurance race. Their 1,100cc Coventry-Climax powered car suffered an accident in practice, and so the team did not start the race. Only two of the eight drivers had completed any running at the time of the accident, and Arnott was not one of them.

Arnott was more slightly successful at the 1957 Le Mans event, when the team ran a Cooper-Climax powered version of their GT car – the team did not finish the race, thanks to a dropped valve, but they were able to start it. It would be Arnott’s last attempt at the legendary endurance event, and the failure led to the end of the marque.

- Kate Walker [x]

#daphne arnott #race car engineer #1950s #f3 #women in motorsport #women in auto mechanics and engineering #le mans #gt #brands hatch #silverstone #british motor racing #brooklands #iota magazine #transcription #from a scan of a print clipping

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starzioo · 12 days

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𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓.

This is a Theo fic where you are a VS SUPERMODEL. During one of your shows you see a very handsome man. I think we can guess who said man is.

5.1k words.

WARNINGS: NONE

It was 2006 and you were in the heat of the Victoria's Secret angel show era. You were a high grade model. you had been modeling with Victoria's Secret for 3 years now and you had already made a big impact on the fashion industry. While doing business with VS you had also done shows with GUESS and Tommy Hilfiger. You also did catalogue with JUICY and many other hot brands. This was the start of your career and you made it big. Your face was all over the world along with Adriana Lima, Heidi Klum, Gisele, and even Tyra Banks. You were the it girl.

You sit legs crossed in your silk baby pink VS robe. Sitting in the stylists chair you had 3 different stylists were getting you ready. Two were curling your hair into the iconic VS blowout, while the other worked on your eyeshadow making sure the gold shimmer was nothing short of perfect. Backstage was always hectic, dozens of stylists and crew running around making sure the girls were on track and most importantly on time. It was hard to not get nervous during these times but you always knew how to keep your cool. While you weren't opening the show you were going to be the 3rd girl that walked out. 3rd? And not only that Justin Timberlake was going to be preforming for the show. I mean come on Justin Timberlake? Everything had to be perfect.

You had been shown the lingerie you were going to be wearing tonight, you had 4 pieces total. And every single one was tailored perfect to your body. Although you had worn the pieces during the rehearsals, tonight was the night. You could hear the crowd of people bustling outside, even over the noise of all the girls laughing and conversing while getting ready. You take a deep breath. "Is Y/n set to go? She has 10 minutes." A crew member asked the stylist working on your hair. "Uhh, she needs to go to outfits still. We'll get her there asap!" She says hairspraying your hair into oblivion. "Okay -she scans the clip board in her hands- make sure she gets there Gisele and Heidi are already changed and on there marks." She sighs and rushes away to the other girls. This is the moment when you can feel your heartbeat all throughout your body. This happens every show it's the adrenaline rush. The knowing that there's hundreds of people out in the crowd. The knowing that this show is broadcasted to millions of people global. "Okayyy, open your eyes! What'd ya thinkkk?" The makeup artist says finally pulling the soft brush away from your eyelid. You open your eyes. There was a soft brown shadow on the outer part of the crease that blended into a light gold shimmer that added as highlight to your inner corner. She did a natural eyeliner with small falsies. It made your eyes pop. The base of your makeup was natural but yet gave a glow to your face. Your hair was perfect aswell the curls accentuated and framed your face in every right way. Everything was absolutely beautiful. "Ahhh! Thank you! It's perfect as always, I need to rush to costumes now!" You say giving your makeup artist and hairstylist a quick hug. "Thank you byee!" You said quickly as you ran off to go find your outfit coordinator.

"I'm here!!" You say frantically as you run behind the curtains to the dressing rooms. "Finally, I swear we were about to send S.W.A.T for you! -She takes your hand and takes you to a dressing room that has

'Y/N Y/L/N' printed on a gold name plate on the door.- Ok, here's your opening outfit. -She hands you your first piece of lingerie- Holler if you need help with the bra!" She says as she walks out of the small room. "I have your wings out here when you're done!" She yells from outside. "Okay!" Although it was never your fault, things always seemed to go this way with every show. You were always running late. Whether it was a wardrobe malfunction or a burn with the curling iron, it was always something.

THEO:

It had been an on going tradition with the boys and Pansy to go see the VS fashion shows. I mean who didn't wanna see dozens of goddesses walking up and down a runway in lingerie? Me, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy are all walking through the VIP access to get to our seats. Every year without fail we had front row seats to the shows. Front row usually consisted of celebrities and important people from the fashion industry but when you have as much money as we do, we fit right in. Tonight me and the group were wearing all black Ralph Lauren, except for Pansy she was wearing Versace from the dress to the shoe. She opted for the Medusa '95 Midi Dress with the matching pumps, she wore her short chic hair tucked behind her ears. She looked absolutely stunning. If she didn't swing the other way I would've probably tried snagging her up myself. I wore an obsidian black tuxedo jacket with the matching tux pants, underneath I wore a black turtle neck long sleeve. My shoes were black aswell shined to absolute perfection. Blaise and Draco wore almost the same but a different variation of the shirts and pants. When we went anywhere publicized or not we came in outfits that were made to impress. Although our choices weren't as flashy or branded as others our style choices showed our money. Only if you paid attention to fashion would you know that this simple cashmere turtle neck costed $1,000. Or that Pansy's dress and heels total were $3,000. Or even Draco's rings that costed more than an apartment in Manhattan. Our style choices tonight were nothing short of perfection.

We finally take our seats we are sat close to the end of the runway. It had the best view from our experience. And you also got to see the girls more up close. You could see every laced detail and every diamond on their stunning lingerie pieces. Although we had all originally started coming as a joke we started taking these shows as a chance to get publicity. About 2 years ago Pansy had made friends with one of the models at an after party and the next day they were seen on Hollywood boulevard shopping and they ended up getting hit with paparazzi. Pansy and Karolina were on the cover of Teen-Vogue, STAR US, and were posted all over countless TMZ gossip blogs. That's when we realized how much publicity we could get just from being here. That's also when we decided to buy VIP tickets to the shows. The paparazzi tended to pay much more attention to the VIP entrances hoping to get shots of celebrities entering in and out of the venue. I mean if you acted important the paparazzi seemed to think that you were important. We had gotten pictures of us taken and posted on page 6. of STAR US captioned, 'Seen at the Victoria's Secret Angel Show last night these mystery guests have appeared yet again! Wearing only luxury designers, who could these people be? Their outfits all together cost more than my mortgage! Girls across America have been on the hunt to find these handsome boys. Mysterious and totally gorgeous? Count me in on the search!' The amount of publicity was insane and even now seated from row we have the paparazzi taken pictures of us every now and then. As we all converse with eachother about the show the lights in the venue begin to dim, the crowd goes silent.

Y/N:

You stood in line on your mark behind Gisele and another angel. Your nerves were crazy. Stylist swarmed the line of girls getting every last flyaway slicked, making sure every heel was clasped, fluffing all wings. You nervously shook your hands taking a breath.

"10, -The backstage manager yelled- 9," "Ok girls! Keep on beat! AND KEEP THE CROWD ENTERTAINED!" Not only were you girls there to model you were there as an advertisement. A campaign. You were entertainers. Performers. Keeping the crowd focused on you and nothing else was your main goal during shows. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1" You could hear the audience cheering for Justin Timberlake as he arose from a platform that was hidden underneath the runway. The beat to 'Sexyback' could be heard all throughout the venue. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Gisele." The manager said giving Gisele her cue to walk. As she opened the show the crowd roared and you could hear the cameras shuttering. "Ok, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Alessandra." She walked out more and more cameras shuttering. It was your turn. This is the moment where all your jitters wash away. Nervous backstage, confident bombshell on stage. You placed your hands on your hips and get ready to walk. "5, 4, 3, -during these moments time always seemed to slow. Everything around you was in slow motion as you prepared for the moment when you would be in the gaze of hundreds of people.- 2, 1. Y/n."

Not missing one beat your body moved in sync with Justin's music. As you appeared on the runway, it felt as if a flash bomb had went off. The hundreds of cameras flash flashed before you. You looked absolutely perfect. Your opening lingerie was stunning. The bra itself was a white gold fabric with 24k diamonds that were delicately placed to make a lacy like pattern. Your panties were low waisted, barely leaving anything for the imagination, the fabric had small diamonds around the waist and elegant lacy white gold patterns. Your wings made you look like a literal angel. The feathers were white and fluffy they faded into gold at the tips. Your heels were stiletto embroidered with more bling that you can ever imagine. You looked stunning. You walked as if you owned the runway, like you owned the venue. The crowd loved you. Justin faced you giving you playful eyes. You reached out your hand, playfully wiggling your finger motioning him to come you to you. He obliged. He walked towards you as you continued your catwalk to him. Once you came close enough you ghosted your hand across his chest and continued walking. As he sang he checked you out as he did every model. As you approached the end of the runway you met eyes with a man. He was quite handsome in your opinion, -I mean absolutely gorgeous, he was eye candy to you- and that was saying a lot. I mean you're a Victoria's Secret supermodel. His eyes were icy and grey. Even with all the flashes of the cameras his eyes stayed almost dead? But not in a bad way, a totally invitingly sexy way. He sat forward as you approached the end of the stage. A small flirty smirk played on his lips. You didn't know why but you felt, -almost drawn?- to him. As you got closer the cameras flashed more than ever. "Y/n! Over here!" "Y/n!" "Y/n!!!" The photographers and crowd shouted your name. Even with all the people calling for your attention you couldn't look away from his eyes. There was just something about them. As you reached the end of the runway you finally ripped your eyes away from his and looked into the mob of flashes. A flirty smile on your lips as you posed for the cameras. You rested one of your hands on your hip and the other raised to your mouth. You sexily bit down on your pointer finger as you basically made love to the sea cameras with your eyes. After your designated 10 seconds on the head of the stage it was time to strut back to backstage. A playful smile replaced the flirty as you looked away from the cameras, you turned to walk back. You glanced back at the mystery man and kept walking flirting with Justin as you walked.

The next segment you were walking was segment 3: Come fly with me. Once again your piece was absolutely perfect for you. Your top was a simple baby pink bra with bold white detailing. Your skirt was a matching low waisted super mini skirt that showed the white underwear you wore underneath the skirt. You wore a small matching jacket, the sleeves went to your elbows. You had a cute flight attendant hat to go with. You carried with you a cute little baby pink pamphlet with a pink airplane on the front. It gave Hue Hefners flight attendant in all the right ways. As the 2nd segment was happening you were actually ahead of time. You actually had time to talk for the BTS clips and take pictures with the other models. You were talking with Miranda when the manager yelled. "Y/N! On your mark!!!" She yelled as she rushed you into the line of models. "Sorry!" You said worried as you rushed to your place behind Adriana.

The segment was already about to start. There was only about a minute intermission between the segments and that minute if even one model was late could ruin the entire show. You really needed to start paying attention to your marks. "OKAY GIRLS! KEEP. THEM. ENTERTAINED. DO SOMETHING!!! ANYTHING WE WANT THE COVER! NOT PAGE 3!!!" The managers always yelled backstage it was nothing new. Although to anyone else it would sound mean. But that's their job. It's their responsibility to make sure that the show goes smooth without any hiccups or problems. It was also their job to make sure to instruct the girls on what to fix and improve. "Okay Adrianna. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1." The manager said as she strutted out from backstage. Once again you found yourself in the trance like state. The tv that was backstage showed what the cameras were broadcasting as Adriana approaches the head of the runway you hear the long awaited count down. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Y/n." All worries wash away and once again you're that girl. You cat walked that damn stage like never before. Your glittering legs moved to the beat and your hips swayed with the rhythm. The cameras bombed you per usual. You knew you were gonna be on a cover or atleast a headline. You always were. You were just that girl. The crowd always loved you, they lived for you. You approached the end of the runway. Even in the middle of hundreds of eyes you could feel one stare particularly. His eyes were paralyzing. You fluttering your eyelashes at him as you continue walking up. You looked him up and down flirtatiously and he did the same. You acted on impulse -not on thought- When you got to the end of the runway you fanned yourself with the pamphlet, then tossed the pamphlet into the man's lap, and shot him a flirty wink then strutted away. Hundreds more cameras flashed it seemed like they were faster than the speed of light. We were definitely getting front cover. I mean the manager said to keep the people entertained?

THEO:

"Bro, what the fuck!" Blaise laughed as the angel walked away. "Theo, I told you! I swear she was looking at you like you were candyyy!" Pansy giggled. I just stared in awe at the pink pamphlet that laid in my lap. "Dude...she's into you!" Draco said basically geeking. "What the fuck." I said picking up the pamphlet as cameras flashed at me.

Y/N:

"Y/n?! What the hell was that?" One of the backstage managers said as she came out of nowhere. "Uhhh" You stared blankly at the woman. "Y/n, you're an angel! -she kisses you on the cheek- We just got 400 thousand more viewers on the live broadcast when you did that! God! Muah! Muah! -she continued giving you forehead kisses- Oh my god! -she smacks her forehead- We need to get you to wardrobes!" She shrieked as she pulled you by your hand through the crowd of models. Some of the girls whistling at you. You both finally made it to the dressing rooms. Although you weren't walking segment 4 or 5 you were opening and closing for the 6th segment: Winter Wonderland of Glacial Goddess. So ohh did you need all the time you could gather to get ready.

This time they re did your eyeshadow to an icy shimmer look. It truly did make your eyes pop. You were in all white and silver. The bra was absolutely stunning. Nearly blinding with the amount of diamonds. The designer had told you the lingerie costed more than the venue itself. And that was saying a lot. This is L.A. and this venue. It was absolutely nothing short of breath taking. You were opening this segment in the 6million dollar bra. All eyes would be on you I mean how couldn't they be the bra was basically built out of diamonds. The main focus of this piece was this bra. "Okay Y/n! Good luck! Maybe flirt with your mystery man again... -ooo's erupt from the girls- but good luck not that you need it! WE HAVE ONE MINUTE LADIES!" The manager yelled as she walked around instructing the staff on what to fix on the models. Your nerves got the best of you, you were shaking your hands and popping your knuckles. After what felt like hours you finally heard the count down. "Ok Y/n, show the world the physical embodiment of winter goddess! 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Go." As you hear the beat of the music you get into the rhythm.

Your hips were swaying smoothly with ease. Gasps and whistles erupted from the crowd as you walked slowly and sensually. Your wings flowing behind you. Being the opener of the segment you got to walk down the center of the runway. All eyes were on you. The cameras were flashing at such a rate you thought the photographers would've ran out of storage by now. The diamonds blinging with every shot taken. When you got to the middle mark of the runway you did a small but quick spin. Once you neared the end of the runway you felt the fans blowing on you and the artificial snow falling from the ceiling made the whole scene perfect. Your eyes fluttered at the cameras and your lips parted slightly. Your hands rested lightly on your hips. After your designated time was up and the next model started walking down the runway you glance down to the man you have been flirting with all night. You looked from his eyes and then back down to his lap where the baby pink pamphlet laid then back up to his eyes. You blew him a kiss, then giggled when you seen his friend practically leap across a girl and a blonde man to catch it. The way he looked at you wasn't like how any other man looked at you it was with that same thirsty look you'd seen on every man at the shows it was more like admiration. He looked at you like you were a literal goddess on Earth. Hundreds of cameras caught the moment. You were living for this. I mean obviously all these stunts were getting you publicity, but there was just something about this man that drew you to him. It made you want to continue this flirty behavior towards him. You couldn't put your finger on exactly what it was. His alluring eyes? His perfectly tailored suit that showed his physique? Or perhaps the way he rolled a single gold ring between his fingers? You didn't know this man was truly a mystery.

You went backstage once more and covered your face with your hands in embarrassment as a group of stage directors and managers swarmed you. "The viewers are living for this!" "Your name is all over Facebook and MySpace!" "You gotta keep this going!" "Did you plan this?" "This is definitely making front cover!" You laugh in embarrassment of the very public flirting situation you have going on with some random you've never met before. "Oh my god! What do I do next? I mean there's not much I can do. It's not like I can pull him up on stage or anything? I don't even know the guy!" You say as they all rush you back to the dressing rooms. "Yes! Yes! Do exactly that!" "Do what? No. I won't that's- that's just embarrassing. Not only for me but for him! Like I said before I don't even know the guy!" You explained as the group of stylists quickly changed you into your next lingerie set.

Again there you stood on your mark in line watching as the line of ansy girls get shorter and shorter. You were gonna be closing the same segment you opened. And ohhh were you nervous. I mean who wouldn't be? You stand there nervously shaking your hands trying calm yourself down. Taking deep breaths as you watch the cue get shorter and shorter. "Okay Y/n, you ready?" One of the backstage managers asks lightly resting a hand on your back. "Yeah..Yeah I'm ready." You lightly smile. As you approach the hidden door way where you're supposed to enter the stage. Even from backstage you can hear the photographer's cameras flashing, and the people clapping and whistling. You snap out of your thoughts and look up. There's only one girl in front of you in line. You take quite possibly the longest breath you've ever taken before you hear those same repetitive words you've been hearing all night. "Okay Y/n, you ready?" You only nod in response. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Go." As soon as you heard the word you had to force yourself to walk. You could not let your nerves get the best of you right now.

You walked onto the stage looking as ethereal as humanly possible. The bra had dozens of dainty diamond embedded silver chains that traveled down your body to the panties. The thong had the same diamond chains dangling from it that connected with your sheer sparkling thigh highs. The diamonds that were connected with the one that laid against your torso also traveled up and around your neck creating a diamond choker illusion. Your stilettos were covered in the same stunning diamonds. You were dripping head to toe in bling. And let's not get started on your wings. The wings were extravagant. There was feathers that blended into a sheer flowing fabric at the ends that blew and bounced in the wind when you walked. You had a head piece aswell it blended into your hair making it look like you had diamonds and snow in your hair. Your earrings were diamonds that were engraved to simulate snowflakes. You were an actual winter goddess.

As you appeared on stage the crowd went absolutely crazy. You walked per usual but this time walking directly down the middle of the stage, hips gliding with the music. Your wings flowing and bouncing with every step you took. Looking from left to right engaging with the crowd. As you walked closer and closer to the end of the stage once again you locked eyes with him. You gave him a wink before posing for the cameras. Since you were closing you had an extended amount of time to pose for the cameras. It was like a flash bomb had went off. Every. Single. Photographer. in the building was taking hundreds of pictures of you. You stood there hands on your hips letting the artificial snow and wind do its job.

After your designated time you made a rash decision. Instead of turning around and walking back to backstage. You stepped down the stairs that were at the end of the stage and approached the mystery man. His eyes no longer appeared sleepy or dead, but now utterly surprised. Once you got close enough you extended your hand to him, and he happily obliged. His cold hand took yours and you guided him back up onto the stage. His friends whistling at you two. The cameras bombed you two. Once you got back on stage he gave you a little twirl. Your fingers were loosely grasping his as you guided him to backstage. You walked in front of him looking back at him every few seconds.

You both finally made it backstage and immediately you two were surrounded by managers and stylists, models gawking at you two. The models were laughing and smiling at the sight. "Ahh! Y/n you did it!" Your managers said wrapping an arm around you. Some of the backstage cameras recording and taking photos of the both of you. "And what's your name?" The manager turned and asked the man. He looked completely dazed and confused, while also smiling. "Uhm, Theo. Theodore Nott." He said shaking the managers hand. "Well I have business to attend to. You can stay backstage until we're done! Uhhh! Stacy get him a backstage pass!" The manager shouted for her assistant. Stacy comes up to him and wraps a lanyard around his neck. You turn to him to find him already looking at you. "So uhm, sorry about all that. I was just- My manager told me to." You looked down to find that you were both still holding hands. You quickly let go when you realized. "Yeah, no worries. I was just confused...but I really don't mind." His voice was as smooth as velvet.

As you looked up at him you took the opportunity to take in all of his features. He truly was as handsome as you thought. You both kinda just stood there looking at each other. "So...would you want to go to dinner with me?" He asks breaking the silence between you two. Even backstage where there's girls running around trying to get changing out of their pieces and managers trying to make sure everyone was doing their jobs, you felt as if the room was silent. "Yeah, that would be nice." You said softly as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His expression once questioning now soft. A small smile laced his lips. "I'm gonna go get changed, uhm, there's drinks and a snack table over there if you want anything. Oh, and if you want you could bring your friends back stage with you." You said giving him a small smile. "Yeah, okay, take your time. There's no rush." He said giving you one last smile before you turned to go back to the dressing room.

You made your way to the dressing room and when you got there you were swarmed with girls squealing and asking you questions. "Okay, okay. So, he asked me to dinner." "And what'd you say?!" "Well obviously I said yes!" All the girls were jumping and hugging you. "Well hurry up and get changed already you can't keep him waiting!!!" They ushered you into your dressing room and you hurriedly got changed back into your clothes you had came to the venue in. Due to the fact that before the show you had an interview for the BTS footage your outfit was simple. It was a black strapless dress from Versace that ended at a little below your knees. Your shoes were black Gianni Ribbon Pumps from Versace as well. Your hair was still in its classic VS blowout. You carried a small black shoulder purse. You stepped back out of your dressing room. "Do I look okay?" You said with a worried expression. "Yes? Is that even a question Y/n?" One model said smiling at you. You began walking out of the dressing room before quickly turning around, "Wait i'm nervous!" "Y/n you'll be finee! I'll walk you out of the dressing room, c'monnn let's go!" She said hooking your arm with hers. She walked you maybe 15feet out of the room and then he was in your line of sight. He and his friends stood all together right where you left him. The girl was chatting with Karolina and a stylist. "Now go...see he's waiting for you~" She cooed in your ear. You gave her a 'really.' look. "Okay —you take a breath— wish me luck!" You say before turning to walk over to him.

You immediately catch all of his attention. He looks almost awestruck? "Hey, i'm ready to go." You say softly smiling up at him. Your gaze then wanders to his friends who are watching and giggling at you two. "Don't worry about them, I already called the car service for them. As for us we'll be going to Providence. It's a very nice restaurant, I think you'll like it." He says with a charming smile. You've never been there but from what you've heard about the place the restaurant sounded luxury. "Yeah that's fine with me, whenever you're ready to go I am." Right when you say that your manager comes rushing to you. "Y/n! Y/n!" She says nearly out of breath as ran up to you. "Oh, Y/n~" She says as she sees you standing next to Theo. You roll your eyes playfully. "I just got you an interview with the director of GUCCI! He wants to speak with you now though so let's go!" She says trying to yank you. "Ericka! Wait!" You slightly yell trying to get out of her grasp. She lets go turning around to you with a worried face. You turn back around to Theo. "I'm sorry, I don't think-" He cuts you off, "Don't worry about it bella, we'll schedule dinner for another time. Now go. Don't let me stop you, okay." He says charming as ever as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You blush slightly and give him a small smile. "Okay, thank you for understanding. Oh! Uhm, Ericka do you have a pen?" "Yeah, yeah, here." She says as she frantically looks for a pen and gives one to you. You take his hand and write.

415-***-**** Call me. XoXo.

You fold his hand then lean up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. He just stands there slightly blushing. "I'll see you soon, yeah?" You ask as you turn to walk away with Ericka. "Yeah." He says as he slightly licks his lips.

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cindylcuwho · 22 days

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“someone to kiss ★ “

— ꒰ 🍒 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ꒱ 𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒/𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖺 ’𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗆’ 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌. 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖫.𝖠. 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗒/𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖽．

— ꒰ 🐁 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ꒱ mentions of kissing / a short makeout session, 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 ! 995 words.

— ꒰ 🗯️ 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ꒱ yk i had to make this a fic after seeing a clips of olivia saying “wish i had someone to kiss rn” & “i love kissing” like cmon

you took a breath, trying to calm down from the long rush of hyperness of jumping all around the stage, “how we feelin’ tonight, L.A?” you yelled in her mic. the large arena crowd cheered back at your voice, a mix of consistent nonsensical yells and sobs soured the air as you skipped down the platform, stopping mid-way in the middle.

you held a huge smile at their reactions, running a hand through your now newly-tangled hair, “i had such a good feeling about tonight’s crowd– you guys are so loud!” you congratulated. the crowd let out another loud cheer as the singer still soaked it all in.

“so, i don’t know if you know this,” you began, your eyes scanned through the sea of people in the crowd as you talked. “but as the tour progressed and we fot a little sillier, we’ve kind of made a little tradition..”

you walked further down the stage, tapping a playful finger against your chin, “hm,” you continued tapping your chin, eyes landing on the the section her friends were found in, “you know, L.A, i kinda wish i had someone to kiss right now..”

the crowd burst out in screams at your playful words. whilst giggling at the reaction, you finally locked eyes with the only person you truly cared about impressing.

matt was wearing a green top with sweats, pairing it with a cheetah print beanie. he wasn’t trying to hide himself, in fact he indulged in your crazy lifestyle even if it meant knowing such an intimate moment is on display for thousands of others.

just as you brought the microphone back up to you lipstick covered lips the crowd began cheering again, excited for whatever you were about to say. the huge projection screen behind your backside showed people from the crowd as the people holding cameras searched for fans willing to comply with the bit.

you gave a quick explanation for what they were doing, saying that there was a thought that it’d be fun to include a ‘kiss cam’ for the crowd – the people working the cameras soon landed on an innocent couple.

“kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” you chanted into the mic, the crowd copying you. the guy grabbed his girlfriend but the cheek, pulling her in for a long passionate kiss that was displayed on the screen.

you gasped along with the crowd with a faux shock and continued to happily skipping around the stage. when the couple was finally done and pulled away with red lips, the cameras were back on you, showing the way your overly hyper body moved. “i love kissing.” you sighed out the confession, leaning your head back in the air.

the crowd was still letting out loud cheers for your words as you left to the backstage to change into the last outfit of the night.

“thank you guys so much for coming, hope you had a wonderful night, i love you!” you ran backstage when she finished, in the need of an urgent shower and comfier clothes.

you could hear almost all the muffled noises of people talking as you carefully stepped out the shower, throwing on the black matching freshlove set.

there was a knock on the door, but just basing on how soft it it wasn’t hard to tell who it was. “come in!” you called out, running a brush through her wet hair.

the door swung up, revealing matt standing there with a wired up smile and his beanie held in his hands to let his messy hair hang loose. “hey.” he whispered. he admired you from the mirror, watching how delicately you dealt with yourself.

“hi.” you giggled, making eye contact with him. you turned from your reflection once you were done, giving matt the signal to approach you.

his hands squeezed against your hips as you hanged onto him by his neck, your own hands playing with the backing of the horse necklace he was wearing.

he kissed all over your face, whispering praises about how well you did tonight, saying he and every one of your friends that attended loved every second and couldn’t take their eyes off you, specifically him though.

“matt, stop stalling!” you whined. matt avoided placing his lips against yours, instead choosing to kiss the outer corners of them instead.

“why?” he cocked his head to the side, “still wishin’ you someone to kiss, pretty girl?” he questioned, knowing the answer. his voice sounded like verbal candy, the words were sweet but the raspiness in his tone made it sound venomous.

you let out a small 'mhm' staring at his lips before he finally gave in, wetting them before leaning in to sync with yours. the kiss was sweet, you could taste the faint memory of his root beer that still lingered throughout his mouth.

matts tongue kindly licked against your bottom lip, asking for access into your mouth that he was always given. you sighed on his lips, not wanting this feeling of ecstasy to end.

but with your luck, the sweet-almost-turned-hot moment was cut off by a knock on the door. "hey, we wanna get some panda express so hurry up." the voice belonged to matts older triplet brother, nick.

you could feel matts eyelashes move against your eyelids as he rolled his eyes, breaking the kiss to quietly groan.

“you ready?” you could hear him say, but you were too focused on how his lips already looked sore from your playful biting. your thumb pulled on the skin, bringing it down before letting go and letting it plop back in its original position.

“yeah.” you whisper. matt leaned his head down, giving you one last kiss, before walking out the door with your hands interlocked.

“so.. did you find someone to kiss yet?” nick joked with a scoff as he watched you walk out with his brother, making matt roll his eyes for the millionth time that week.

— ꒰ 🗯️ 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 pt 2 ꒱ calling nick “matts older triplet brother” is crazy i don’t wanna do it again

— ꒰ ☀️ 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ꒱ @mattscoquette , @itzdarling , @freshloveee

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cherryslyce · 1 year

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Love, Anonymous | Blaise Zabini

Synopsis: The rumor mill at Hogwarts has expanded into physical print, and with it, a buzzing section dedicated to anonymous confessions.

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff!Reader

Notes: I accidentally grew extremely fond of Ernie while writing this. Susan Bones supremacy, always.

Word Count: 4.8k

The infamous rumor mill of Hogwarts, upheld by boisterous Gryffindors Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, seemed to finally reach eminence in the social sphere of the castle. It was a long time coming, you thought. Grapevines. Heard from a friend. Through an open door — nothing was as fascinating as the arbitrary spiel that grew to fruition in the rumor mill.

“I’m impressed. With all of this, you’d think Lavender was going after Skeeter’s job.” Susan hums, eyes scanning over the leaflets of paper lain strewn in front of you both.

Ernie snorts as he shovels a spoonful of peas into his mouth, eyes rooted to the ceiling as he awaited the daily post, “What a load of bollocks.”

“Hey, now. Don’t be so curt with it, E.” You muse, mouth folding into a wry grin as you pick up one of the loose papers, bringing it to eye-level so you could read it, “Look at this riveting slice of writing, Hogwarts Anonymous: With the Yule Ball so fresh in the minds of the student body–”

“Fresh? It was almost three bloody years ago.” Ernie interjects, tongue clicking loudly as the sea of owls begin to scurry across the plane of the ceiling, dropping rolls and boxes of news and gifts. However, the surge of mail went largely ignored as many students remained engrossed in the new Hogwarts gossip column.

You shoot Ernie a stern look at the interruption, but continue when Susan releases an amused huff, “As I was saying—With the Yule Ball so fresh in the minds of the student body and love so sorely missed as a result, Hogwarts Anonymous is dedicated to working towards the revival of matchmaking. To submit an anonymous clip of your own, reach out to Parvati Patil for inquiries.”

“Love so sorely missed?” Susan echoes, eyes blown wide in disbelief.

“Poetic. Inspired. Riveting. Ingenious.” Ernie utters with faux sincerity, ignoring the raucous younger years fighting behind him.

You nod, barely able to conceal your grin as your eyes drop further down the blocks of text, seeing a few confessions and messages splayed across the paper. As you continue to read through the text, a sudden passage has you choking on your spit, thumb pressing harshly against the flimsy paper as your eyes narrow.

Ernie peers up at you from his plate, glancing towards Susan as they both share unimpressed looks. Eventually, it’s Susan who plucks up the voice to question your sudden bafflement, “Y/N? Are you alright there?”

“Y/N looks like a startled crup puppy in Arithmancy.” You recite rigidly, feeling the paper warp and crease under your unrelenting grip.

There is an unsettling pause in the atmosphere, as though the entirety of the dining hall has paused in their routine to listen to the confession, but it soon washes away as Ernie practically howls in laughter, his broad frame throttling forward as he tries to muffle his guffaw.

Susan, ever the diplomat, proves to be more successful at maintaining her composure, but you don’t miss the small grin that tugs at her lips as she reaches over to grasp the paper, “Here, give me that.”

“Crup puppy? Oh my goodness! That is bloody—Ow! Hey! Okay, stop!” Ernie’s fit of laughter and verbal tirade is swiftly dealt with as you send numerous stinging hexes his way, basking in the alarmed glint in his eyes.

Susan shakes her head at both of your antics, and folds the paper up, eyes scanning the room as she muses, “How romantic. You just have to wonder who the culprit is.”

“Merlin. It might just be a prank. Or maybe someone has a vendetta against me.” You groan with exasperation, realizing that just about everyone in the castle was going to be hearing about it.

Ernie bumps his shoulder against yours and grins, “Chin up, Y/N. If someone’s out to get ya, Susan and I will send them to their maker—without their kneecaps, rest assured.”

You roll your eyes but nod in appreciation, gaze falling down to your pitiful plate of food as your mind is thrust into overdrive. Hopefully, it would all blow over by the next day.

Wishful thinking on your part because in fact, it did not.

“It is endearing how Y/N is always lost during Potions.” Susan reads off the paper with squinted eyes, mouth furling into a frown of disbelief at the words.

“Does this person hate me?” You murmur, leaning on your elbows as your eyes run across the aisle of bookshelves in front of you.

Ernie rocks on the heels of his feet as he hums, “Abysmal flirting. Subpar, one-sided banter. Hardly charming. A Gryffindor, for sure.”

“Well, the only Gryffindor in both Arithmancy with me and Potions with us is Hermione Granger, and I surely hope she hasn’t turned away from Ron. He’ll be insufferable if so.” You grit out, torn between chasing down your secret “admirer” and putting forth your best effort to ignore their future comments.

Susan hums at your suggestion with crossed arms, Runes homework long forgotten about, “Surely not. So not a Gryffindor— and really Ernie, you can’t let your heartache blind your judgement! Seriously, are we sticking with the ‘All Gryffindors Are Bad’ thing?”

Ernie gapes at her words and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Guys, I’m over her, we’ve been through this.”

You pat your friends arm empathetically, hiding your sly grin as you muse, “Of course you are. Poor Fay Dunbar, really.”

Before your friend can retort, the sound of clicking footsteps attracts your attention as a figure emerges from behind the shelf next to you. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch the familiar Slytherin stroll towards you all with cool eyes, hands shoved in his dress pants as he hums, “Bones. Macmillan.” His eyes drop down to where you’re seated and you see an indecipherable glint cross his gaze as he greets you, “Puppy.”

Your reaction is almost immediate as a hot wave of mortification swallows all your sensibilities, “Excuse me?” Your offended wheeze hardly deters the Slytherin as he merely smirks at you.

“I think your time would be better spent working through the latest Arithmancy assignment instead of gossiping, no?” He asks with a slanted grin, eyes never trailing away from yours.

“What’s it to you, Zabini?” Your voice comes out taut as you feel Ernie place a hand on the back of your chair, likely eyeing down the boy in front of you.

Blaise’s eyes briefly flicker to survey Ernie’s ministrations before they glide back to you in consideration, “Just concerned for a fellow classmate is all. I’ll see you around, Puppy.” Without giving you time to retaliate, the tall Slytherin vanishes just as swiftly as he arrived.

“The absolute nerve!” You utter with indignation, swiveling your attention over to Susan. The girl frowns in the direction that Blaise disappeared through, eyes glimmering as you could see her brain whirring.

“Strange. I thought Zabini was one of the tamer Slytherins out of their lot.” Ernie mutters, resuming his position beside you as he rubs his chin.

You shake your head, “Malfoy’s influence is something to fear for years to come. Zabini may have been pleasant in our youth, but he’s been so shifty to me as of late.”

Ernie snaps his fingers at your words and snickers down at you, “You used to have the largest love-sick eyes for him.”

Clicking your tongue, you send a side glance at your friend before looking at Susan as she seems to take in your clueless expression.

“Seriously?” She huffs, eyebrow drawn up as she gazes at you both like she was staring at a pedestrian display.

“Seriously what? Suze?” You prod, leaning over as she shakes her head and redirects her attention to her work.

Ernie shoots you a shrug as he pulls out the chair beside you, reluctantly following the girl’s lead as he sifts through the pile of parchments in front of him.

The next few days blur by in a similar fashion, except you had taken to avoiding Hogwarts Anonymous like the plague, forcing Ernie and Susan to do the same when you were around. You eventually fell back into your routine of focusing on coursework and your future anxieties, letting the anomalous events slip from your mind.

It is not until you’re organizing your supplies during Arithmancy that your fragile bubble of peace is disturbed.

“Puppy.” The dulcet sound of Blaise’s voice has you snapping your head up, boggled by his sudden appearance beside you. The boy usually sat rows behind you, leaving the spot next to you to be occupied by Padma Patil. However, it seemed she was nowhere to be found.

Suppressing your complaints, you don’t even attempt pleasantries as you sigh, “Zabini, hello.”

“What’s with the long face? Not happy to see me?” Blaise teases, mouth stretching into a small grin.

You’re almost tempted to squint as his perfectly white teeth glare at you in all their glory. Fuck. Did he not have a single flaw?

“I’m flattered, but perhaps the only thing I’m unable to do is catch you on a good day.” Blaise’s eyes twinkle with mirth as he smiles softly at you.

Your face heats up so violently that you’re sure radiators across the globe were turning to you with envy. Forcing your jaw from parting so gauchely, you can only sputter out weakly, “Did I say that out loud?”

Blaise hums wordlessly as he continues to look at you. Clearing your throat, you turn back to face the front of the classroom as Professor Vector begins to rise from her desk, “Right.”

The rest of the class seems to tick by like molasses from a tipped jar: incredibly, painstakingly slow. You were usually quite engaged with the lesson and content, but you couldn’t ignore the occasional glances from the Italian boy beside you.

As you absentmindedly continue to scrawl on your parchment, eyes transfixed on the swirls of ink blooming on the page, you feel something poke your arm. Frowning, you try to ignore it, directing your full attention onto sketching your diagram.

The light poking persists until you bring your other hand up to swipe at your robe, fingers dancing across a sheet of paper with a slight crinkling noise. Faintly tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows when you see Blaise attempting to slide a sheet of paper towards you. Slowly grasping the paper, you lay it atop one of your dry parchments, eyes scanning across the leaflet in confusion.

‘Hogwarts Anonymous. Submission 0128: Y/N L/N is devastatingly oblivious. It really is quite cute.’

You feel your entire body steel up at the words, lips parted from shock as you continue to reread the confession. The nerves across your body seem to buzz wildly as you try and rein in the burning climbing up your chest.

“Alright, dears! That will be all for today. I expect the next two chapters to be read by our next convening. Ah, and L/N, my dear! I need to speak with you.” Professor Vector’s euphonic voice cut through your haze of disbelief, drawing your eyes away from the dizzying passage and up towards the heart of the classroom.

You don’t dare to glance at Blaise as you quickly clamber towards the awaiting woman, weaving around the retreating students that file through the grand doors. Huffing to relieve the pressure in your chest, you peer at the woman in anticipation as you finally step toward her.

“Sorry to call you up like this, L/N. It’s just that the other professors and I are concerned about the recent articles that are being passed around the student body. It’s come to our attention that these anonymous confessions regarding you are quite prolific.” Professor Vector keeps her voice steady as she gazes at you with warm eyes, evidently trying to gauge your honest opinion on the matter.

It would appear that everyone knew about your predicament.

You shake your head quickly, eyes wandering towards the tomes resting on her desk, “It’s quite alright, they’re just small statements. Besides, no one has been giving me a hard time.” Which was partially true, but you also did not want the column to be shut down and run the risk of facing Lavender’s wrath.

“If you’re quite sure, dear.”

With a soft nod, you send a small smile towards her before bounding back towards your table, releasing a small breath as you see the rest of the classroom was vacant. As you slung your bag over your shoulder, the call of your name has you twirling on your heel.

“L/N.” Professor Vector gives you a faint nod, “You’re doing quite well in this class. I’m sure whoever is sending those messages is just teasing you.”

Clearing your throat, you plaster on a reassuring smile, “Thank you, Professor. Have a good afternoon!”

You practically sprint out of the classroom, mind set on nipping the blooms of your troubles—starting with the roots.

The clicking of your shoes against the dusty corridor tiles seem to smother every other inkling of noise, many students shifting from your path with wide-eyes as your gaze darts around furiously. Even the slightest hue of crimson drew your dutiful eyes like a moth to a flame, and you were beginning to get tunnel vision.

A flash of wispy blonde waves flashes across your plane of sight, and you’re immediately beelining towards the girl, a victorious smile painting your face once you see Lavender’s startled frown. The girl glances from side-to-side as you draw closer, shoulders tensing once you tentatively stop a few paces before her.

“Lavender, good afternoon.” You greet cordially, fingers lightly brushing against your sides as you become wary of your awkward hand placement.

The girl nods and shoots you a confused smile, “Hi, Y/N. What’s up?”

“I think we both know why I’m here.” You mutter frankly, head tilting down emphatically as you take notice of the latest edition of Hogwarts Anonymous in her hands.

Lavender glances down at the paper and hums, “Ah. Right.”

Sighing, you readjust the strap of your bag as you step closer, “Look, I’m not here to give you any grief over your work. In fact, Hogwarts Anonymous is probably the most exciting thing to happen all year. But, I need to know the person behind all these messages aimed at me.”

“I’m sorry, but confidentiality–” Lavender starts, eyebrows stitching together in remorse at your clear disdain over the matter.

Before the girl can continue her, no doubt, enlightening spiel about the rules of journalism, a velvety voice curls through the air around you, “Hello, Puppy. What seems to be the fuss.”

You aren’t sure any measure of propriety could have stopped you from raising your eyes to the sky as you slowly spin on your heel. A frown briefly washes over your face as you address the boy behind you, “Zabini. Again with that nickname? It’s getting quite old. Originality doesn’t seem to be your strong suit.”

“No use in fixing what isn’t broken. Besides, I’ve never known you to be overly concerned with trivialities like this.” The boy retorts, eyes sparkling with blatant amusement.

You purse your lips at his choice of words before musing, “That’s because you don’t know me, Zabini.”

Without missing a beat, Blaise is quick to step closer to you, head craning towards you imperceptibly as he lowers his voice, “I suppose you’re right. I could get to know you though.”

Your lips part at his words, but you try to remain nonchalant as you huff, “Hysterical. And what’s in it for me?”

“You’d get to know me, too.”

“As enticing as that sounds, I’ll have to pass.” You mutter, taking a step back from the boy. His eyes remain firm with confidence even as you begin to retreat, your gaze glued to the growing smirk on his face.

As your nerves finally seem to spark back to life, you swiftly spin around and begin to stomp towards your common room, brain muddled with harping thoughts about the exchange. Before you’re able to round the corner, you hear Lavender’s soft voice bristle through the air, “Maybe try a different approach…”

A few odd days pass after your encounter with Blaise, and you’ve taken to gluing yourself to Ernie and Susan in hopes that the Slytherin would be too intimidated to approach you again. Your friends take the new developments in stride, only occasionally shooting you knowing glances.

“Weird.” Ernie hums, fingers drumming against the grass as he peers at the paper in his lap.

You don’t take your eyes off of the serene lake just yards away as you reply, “What’s weird?”

Susan pauses in her reading as Ernie straightens up and turns to you, “There aren’t any more anonymous messages about you in the column.”

“Seems that you missed your chance with your secret admirer, Y/N.” Susan hums, propping her chin on her palm as she smiles teasingly at you.

You shake your head and wave them both off, “I talked to Lavender the other day, maybe she intentionally left it out. Either way, I look forward to reinhabiting the semblance of peace that I lost.”

Ernie hums as he diverts his gaze towards something behind you, “Peace might have to wait.”

“Y/N.” Blaise’s honeyed voice dances through the cool air, accompanied with the soft crunching of grass as you sense the boy approach your lazing figure.

“Blaise.” You greet evenly, eyes slowly drifting across the tufts of clouds meandering across the sky.

Susan and Ernie pretend to busy themselves as the Slytherin stops behind you, close enough where the edges of his robe lightly graze against your back. It is quiet for a few moments before the boy addresses you again, “Have you given my offer any further thought?”

“I can’t say I have.” You mutter, slowly fidgeting with your wand as you add, “Do you want me to?”

The Italian huffs out a small laugh before you hear a faint rustling, “That’s entirely up to you.” Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but before you can turn around to question him, a crisp envelope drops into your vision. You feel the curtains of Blaise’s robe swim across your back as he offers the tempting object to you.

Gently grasping the envelope, you flip it in your palm to inspect the front, but you’re met with shallow disappointment when you see the paper is completely blank. On the back, you recognize the Zabini emblem pressed into the bleeding red wax.

“Blaise, what is this for?” You slowly peer over your shoulder only to be met with Blaise’s retreating back growing farther into the distance.

Staring at the envelope with a frown, you debate on whether or not to frisbee-launch the paper into the lake as the wind sweeps across your face. Susan is the first to interrupt the calm silence that blanketed the air, shooting you a knowing smile as she points her chin at the stiff paper, “Open it.”

“Do you know something about this?” You question with narrowed eyes, tone light with jest, but bleeding in genuine confusion.

“About the envelope? Nope.” She hums with a sweet smile, quickly swiveling her head back to her book.

You shuffle closer to your friends, shooting them a disbelieving frown, “And about Blaise?”

Ernie mimes a zipping motion across his mouth as he shakes his head, which is all you need from the boy to know that both of your friends were privy to something you weren’t seeing. Clicking your tongue with exaggerated indignation, you carefully peel the envelope open, noting that neither of your friends were attempting to peer over to see its contents as you did so.

You didn’t know if you were thankful or concerned for that fact.

Reaching inside the smooth cradle of paper, your fingers run across a folded piece of paper. Pulling it out, you hesitate for a few moments before deciding to bite the bullet.

Smooth, even swirls of letters dance across the paper in abundance much to your surprise.

Y/N,

Lavender advised me that my previous tactic of trying to get your attention was ineffective, so I should therefore be more forthcoming. I hope you understand now. Although it was entertaining watching you fumble about for answers, I realize that time is slowly dwindling as we progress through our last year here at Hogwarts.

This is not some ploy if you’re wondering (because I know that you are… really, are you Hufflepuffs not supposed to be the most trusting of us all?)

I have admired you for quite some time. If you are willing to, let’s meet before dinner. I will be at the library.

Love,

“Anonymous”

You drop the letter into your lap as you sigh into the air, neck aching as you roll your head from side to side. Ernie assesses you from the corner of his eye, head tilting at your reaction, “Well?”

“Well, I’ll have to meet you both at dinner it seems.” You concede with a heavy sigh, realizing that you were the only one who was drowning in the darkness of oblivion for the past few days.

Susan nods at you with twinkling eyes as Ernie muses with a wide grin, “Sounds like a plan. Good luck!”

Pacing away from your friends and up the vague incline of grass, you fiddle with the paper in your hands as you begin to dredge up all your encounters with Blaise. They were plentiful in your youth, but between then and the whirlwind of Hogwarts Anonymous— you could count the number of proper conversations you’ve had with the Slytherin on one hand.

That’s not to say you still didn't find the boy attractive. There was an unspoken consensus amongst the entire student body that he was the prime candidate for bachelor, between his suave demeanor, dry wit, academic prowess, towering trust fund, and neutral political stance— it did not get much better than Blaise fucking Zabini.

For the first time in weeks, you feel that your head is finally clear. An airy aura encircling you as you traverse through the halls, not minding the bustling of younger students or the perpetual miasma of stress that radiated off of your fellow seventh-year peers.

At the threshold of the bright library, you take a deep breath of consideration before you step in, an intangible veil of warmth immediately ushering you into its cavernous hold as you sift your gaze through the hunched backs and steep shelves.

Taking slow steps so as to not remain erect in the entrance and cause traffic, you’re snapped from your concentration by the softest tug to your robe sleeve. Dropping your gaze to the chair beside you, you aren’t able to mask your nonplusness at the sight of a familiar Slytherin searching your expression with curiosity.

“Oh, hi Theodore.” You wave smally, stepping closer as he begins to speak.

“Y/N. You’re here for Blaise, right?” The boy’s words are barely above a murmur as he slowly shuts the cover of his book.

You nod and shift to lean against the table as Theodore begins to look around, only dropping your eyes to him once he speaks up again, “He just came in. He might be toward the back, near the Restricted Section. He doesn’t like being around others when he’s restless.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows shoot up at the insinuation, unable to truly comprehend a mental picture of the composed Slytherin as anything but smug and assured.

Humming, you shift your weight from one leg to the other as you dismiss yourself, “Alright. Thank you, Theodore. I’ll see you around.”

The boy merely nods before turning back to his work, but you don’t miss the glimmer that flickers across his eyes as they quickly catch sight of the letter in your hand— it was the same knowing look that your friends held.

Shuffling towards the back of the library, you slowly feel the confidence draining from your veins as you near the Restricted Section. Rounding one of the shelves, you stop in your tracks as you catch sight of Blaise sitting at a corner table by the window, robe discarded and flung over the adjacent chair as his eyes run across the book in his hand.

Clearing your throat faintly, you make your way towards him. Before you’re even within reaching distance to him, his head shoots up toward you.

His eyes swim with confusion for a split moment before they sink into a familiar unreadable look.

“I read your letter.” You mutter with uncertainty, squaring your shoulders as Blaise nods and rises from his chair.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” He softly admits, lips curling up at the sheepish look that replaces your former expression of hesitancy. Before you have time to reply, he steps forward and chuckles, “Couldn’t wait to see me, then?”

Swallowing harshly, you hum, “You have a bit of explaining to do.”

“Yeah, I do.” His voice comes out light, shedding away into a near whisper at the end as he gazes at you with consideration. He takes a step forward and continues, “Before that though, I need to know how you feel.”

“About you?” Your mumble is met with a firm nod, and you feel your heart miss a few beats as the words seem to just glide out of your mouth without filter, “Well, we haven’t spoken properly all that much this year or last year, but I like you… too. I like you, too.”

“Yeah?” Blaise hums, shoulders faintly drooping as the tension dissipates from his muscles. He reaches his hand out in offering, and you have to give his face another once-over to confirm that it wasn’t an elaborate ruse before you take it.

He slowly drags you towards him before nudging you to sit in his chair as he smiles, “Well, I’ll apologize for the public messages, it just seemed like the opportune moment when Lavender approached me.”

“Lavender approached you?” You quietly squawk, not even batting an eye when Blaise crouches in front of you and brings his other hand to clasp yours.

“My attraction to you is no secret, Y/N. Not that I tried to hide it.” He supplies, eyes full of warmth as you recount all the indecipherable looks you’d received from Blaise’s friends over the months. Honestly, you had merely assumed they were looking for a fight.

Squeezing the boy’s hands, and ignoring the tingling that buzzed up your wrist from the coolness of his steel rings, you muse, “So… you like me.”

“Hm.” Blaise hums patiently, assured by your reciprocation of his physical touch.

“Well, you’re quite the romantic, Zabini.” You can’t fight the lopsided smile that falls on your face.

Blaise huffs a small laugh as he shakes his head, “I was thinking you’d hold a contrary sentiment.”

“You better be planning ways to make it up to me, public scrutiny is not enjoyable.” You mutter with a small grin, relishing in the way Blaise shifted at your words.

He gives your hands a firm squeeze before he straightens up and leans towards you, “There’s no rush anymore.”

“Who says? I’m fleeing once we graduate.” Your teasing elicits an eye roll from the boy as he shakes his head.

Leaning over, he grazes his lips over your forehead as he mutters, “Funny, but no can do, you’re stuck with me.”

His arms encircle you as he continues to drop light pecks to your face, clearly uncaring of the unconventional crane of his spine as he does so. Bringing a hand up, you place it on his cheek before leaning to join your lips together, acutely aware of how his hands tighten around your frame as he leans in impossibly closer to you.

Pulling back briefly, you smile as an idea balloons in your thoughts, “I’m going to need to find Lavender later.”

Blaise’s hands draw circles on your waist as he hums, “Why’s that?”

“I can’t let you have all the fun, now can I? I have the perfect anonymous submission.” You grin brightly, tugging at his tie to draw him closer.

His eyebrows slowly raise at your words as he leans in, “Yeah?”

“Yep. How does ‘Blaise Zabini is a terrible flirt and an even worse snog’ sound?”

Blaise hums and drags you closer to him as a playful glint blazes across his lidded gaze, “It sounds like I’ll have to change your mind before then.”

“I agree.” You whisper just as his lips sink against yours again, the faint scent of his cologne swirling around you like a blanket as you lean back against the table.

And when morning rolls around, bringing clear skies and a new column of Hogwarts Anonymous, you can only shrug your shoulders when Susan practically slams the paper against your face in fervid question.

‘Hogwarts Anonymous. Submission 0283: Blaise Zabini is an alright snog.’

masterlist

#blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagines #blaise x reader #blaise zabini imagine #blaise zabini fluff #harry potter #harry potter series #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #we love blaise

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thebeardiswriting · 4 months

Text

I was sipping a drink in the hotel lounge, trying relaxing after a long day at the trade show. I glanced around and made eye contact with a beauty sitting a few seats away. She held my gaze for and appraising moment and I tipped my glass to her. She smiled and took a sip of her drink before standing, she tapped at her phone before moving toward me.

Turning to face her, till leaning on the bar, we ran our eyes over each other. "Hello...." I was cut off as she held a small envelope to my lips.

"No need to talk, just check the code" she said in a clipped accent as I took it from her. She eyed me expectantly as I examined the envelope. There was a QR code printed on it. I fished my phone from my pocket and quickly scanned the code.

I was rewarded with a video of a naked woman woman grinding her cunt against a folded over pillow. A message hovered over the woman as she writhed in pleasure "The video is live and this is my filthy little fuckdoll of a cock hungry whore Honey @d2bm. The slut is waiting to be used in Room 6969. There is a keycard and a condom in the envelope. After you have used both leave the keycard. The camera stays on and just tell her Rose sent you." when I glanced back up the woman was back at the bar sipping her drink and looking down at her phone.

I glanced back and forth between the video and the woman a few times before putting my phone away to disguise the required adjustment of my cock. She must have caught sight of the adjustment out of the corner of her eye because I saw a hungry grin spread across her face even before I turned to head to the room....

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promise-you-doie · 2 months

Text

Second Time | P. Jisung

warnings: none

not proofread, a few grammatical errors

the first time Jisung met you, you had left an imprint on his brain. You weren’t really too different from everyone else he’d met, at least that’s what he kept telling himself.

But really, it wasn’t making sense.

He just couldn’t understand why he kept thinking about you so much, the sweet vanilla perfume you were wearing, and the cherry red lipgloss that stained your pretty puffy lips. Your soft voice and gentle doe eyes.

“Do you need help?” He asks when he sees you reaching for the butterfly encyclopedia on the top shelf. It was then that he noticed the variety of butterflies that you have stamped on you. The silver butterfly claw clip tying half your hair up, the blue butterfly print decorating the front of your shirt, the butterfly necklace hanging around your neck, and the butterfly ring wrapped around your right ring finger.

“No, I got it.” You reply, continuing to reach for the book over the top of your head. yet jisung doesn’t take your “no” for an answer and easily lifts his arm above you to slide the book back out and lower it down to where you can reach it.

You were thankful but shy, so you murmured a “thanks, but I could’ve gotten it myself.”

and Jisung responds with “You’re welcome.” Smiling at your awkward pout. Usually, he was nervous around strangers but something about you compelled him, he wanted to know more. He needed to know more.

Unfortunately, you ran away before he could say anything else or introduce himself.

It took two months for him to see you again.

for the entire two months you occupied his thoughts, every time he saw a butterfly or moth your face came to his mind. Anytime he smelled a vanilla scent he thought of you, when he saw the color red he was reminded of the red lipgloss that covered your lips.

He found himself mindlessly doodling butterflies in his notes and even sitting by the encyclopedias in the student library hoping to see you again. But it’d end up the same every day. He’ll be left slightly kicking his feet against the library carpet and moping about the time he wasted waiting for you when he could’ve been working on his list of overdue assignments.

However it didn’t stop him from doing it again the next day, the day after that, and the day after that.

After so much time had gone past he figured he’d just give up. So he told himself this was the last time, after this he’d continue his life and pass you off as a mere dream.

an hour had passed and then two hours had passed and then three. Jisung looked around in his seat, scanning the entire library from his view. And when he didn’t see you he let out a deep sigh and stood up the chair. Collecting his bag and laptop, he headed towards the exit.

Maybe you were just a dream, a really good dream.

Maybe he’ll be lucky enough to meet you again in a dream, maybe he’ll get your name next time, maybe he’ll get to know more about you.

As he opens the door to the library someone comes rushing in, accidentally running face first into Jisung’s chest and dropping their book on the floor right below his feet.

“I’m sorry.” The soft and familiar voice is the first thing Jisung notices, the butterfly encyclopedia laying on the floor is the second. And the warm sweet vanilla scent was the third. He reaches for the book before you do, securing it tightly in his hands so that you can’t just grab it and run like you did once before.

“thank you” you mutter, hoping that would make him loosen his grip on the book.

It doesn’t.

He refuses to let go until he sees your face. Until he’s sure that it’s you and that you’re real. not some enchanted being that he’d made up in a dream.

When you raise your chin, and lock eyes with his. He knows more than ever that you’re real.

The first time he met you he couldn’t get you off his mind, the second time he met you he knew he was already in love.

“My name is Jisung.” He speaks without any hesitation.

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iraprince · 1 year

Text

TIME FOR A PROCESS POST let's talk abt getting from this (client sketch - which, btw, i know other artists have talked about this plenty, but i LOOOOOOVE a client sketch as early direction on a commission. LOVE it)

to this!

at first we didn't know if the title was going to go across the desk, or over the central figure (emara's) head against the back wall. so there was a 1st version where we were favoring a higher title, then we started favoring the desk so we scrapped the clutter + centered it more

i used clip studio's 3D models (particularly for the chair, guard, + weapon crates) and perspective rulers to help with laying everything out at this stage, tho i abandoned the 3D pretty early on bc it's a bit too clunky for me. maybe i'll find it quicker to use w more practice!

(the rest under the cut!)

once the basic layout was approved, i threw together a value study to explain how in the final image all the clutter of the bg detail would be unified and pushed back. lately i find myself thinking abt value earlier + earlier in the process; planning ahead saves me a lot of time!

i fiddled with starting to refine things digitally, but then i got A BRAND NEW LIGHTBOX delivered in the mail with perfect timing (lmao) so i just ended up printing off the digital sketch, finalizing in pencil, + scanning back in

then comes five billion different steps of locking in values, again. i did everything greyscale first, but i didn't worry abt getting things super polished at this stage bc i knew color would factor in a lot to later decisions

this is the point at which presenting these wips "step by step" is kind of misleading; i didn't do these stages one at a time, but rather had a BUNCH of different lighting/shading layers that i kept toggling on and off as i worked to make sure everything was coming along well.

(to get some of these caps i actually went into the main file again and turned a bunch of stuff on/off just for the sake of getting specific examples, because actually when i was actively working on it there was rarely a point where i was actually working on something with "all lighting turned off and just the shading on," or anything like that; but i AM interested in showing what effects different lighting/shading changes had on the base colors, even if i wasn't really making these changes in a rigid order.)

i.e., just for the sake of interest, here's how the flat colors look without those adjustments!! but i honestly never looked at it like this on its own for long...i had all the shading/lighting turned off so i could see what i was doing while flatting, but i was constantly checking back and forth.

then tones added on top (which were actually just two copies of the tone folders in the above posts, set to linear burn and overlay) -

which makes it get HORRIFYINGLY dark, but that's when we go in and add a bunch of lighting adjustments.

the most obvious lighting change above is the big burst of hot pink light from the corner, but there was also some masked overlay + burn layers to pop out the guard + emara and make sure they were pulled out from the bg. if this were a standalone illustration, i maybe would have let the bg (and all that painstakingly drawn detail..........) stand out a little more, but a cover functions differently, and i wanted to make sure the eye goes to the title first. that means sacrificing bg detail even if it looks sick lol

then final touches! a lot of my very last touches are things that are close to invisible; gradient maps on very low opacity, noise, a little bit of scribbling on upper layers. the typesetting was all by the client, except for the lettering for "emara king's," which i did myself!

finally, here's a comparison of ⬅where i left off one night close to the deadline thinking "it's probably done, but i'll sleep on it just in case," then all the adjustments i made the next day with fresh eyes.➡ and that's it!!! phew!!! that's how i make a cover!

#my art #process #wip #tutorials #<- not really but. i just figure someone browsing my tutorials tag might be into this #i am so so so so so fucking mad that i didnt think to turn timelapse recording on for this #bc a timelapse wouldve been so fucking sick. but i can at least share this

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acupofqueercoffee · 1 year

Text

“Offer me the deathless death”

Andromache the Scythian x Female Reader

request ( found here ) by @nightly-polaris

|･ω��) go wild, you said and go wild, i did. i included as much of the provided details as i could. hopefully, you’ll find it agreeable

cw : 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ // dubcon-ish // ✂️ ✂️😼 // overstimulation

casually quoting hozier for all my andromache fics. that fight scene on the plane and the way she grabbed nile by the jaw tho 😩 wanted to incorporate it in a fic ever since i saw it, and fucking finally did

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Hallucinations. A fever dream.

Anything but reality is what you tell yourself, and what a job you have been doing thus far! Fantastically foolish if nothing else. Cocooned in a bubble of lies that spill forth none other than your lips, and illusions that are carved by your very mind itself, you harbour not a droplet of doubt that the reality in front of your eyes is nothing but bona fide.

People after all are the most masterful at fooling themselves.

Ensnared in a web of deceit weaved by your fingers lie no hapless preys, but you, yourself, who revel in the sweet taste of false security as you do in the richness of the creamy warm chocolate drink that coats your tongue.

Even though business in your shop today is notably satisfactory if not the most profitable, it is not the digits that matter to you the most. Your little shop is borne purely out of your profound passion and desire; obligation is out of the picture. It is where you feel the most at home, doing what you love while bathed in the aroma of freshly ground coffee and cocoa.

Amidst brewing a cup of americano as per the order of a customer with stylish sun-glasses and a striking jawline, your dress is accidentally soiled. Little do you know, the scatter of black and bitter constellations along the pristine white of your sleeve is merely the dawn of a darker, more bitter happening.

──────── ༻✿༺ ────────

Finding you has been relatively easy.

When the familiar dreams begin plaguing her usually dreamless nights, a telltale sign of a new immortal on the horizon, Andromache has half a mind to ignore them altogether. Had she not seen the places that stoke recognition amongst the wild tapestry of images, she certainly would have. But alas, her target, as it so happens, is no stranger to her. By no means does the Scythian know you. Nor you, the Scythian. New immortals bring together with them an assortment of risks, one of them being the exposure of their secret. It is with such knowledge in mind that Andromache feels obliged to set out for you despite her reluctance. You living in the neighbourhood of her temporary place of residence only makes the search all the more convenient.

Being a warrior for many a millennium has developed a vast array of tactical traits into personal trademarks. Those that once upon a time had had to be mindfully exercised, now occur as easily and effortlessly as breathing, involuntary more often than not. Beneath the dark shades of a spectacle perched on a well-defined slope of a nose lies a pair of sage green eyes, scanning the vicinity of wherever she goes like an eagle on a hunt. They have landed on it then, during her visit to a store, standing adjacent to it is a cafe in the name of “Trouvaille”. The Scythian is not one to be easily intrigued, but what a lie it would be to say that the charming building with its vintage air and curious name had not tickled her fancy. Or its owner whom she has noticed is all sweet smiles and dulcet eyes.

Eyes which she has only seen from afar then, now she stares directly into them. Protected by the shades, the intense greens study you with brazen openness, roaming all over your frame, from the tiny clips that decorate your cascading hair like colourful Christmas lights to the butterfly pendant that dangles from a simple silver chain, hovering directly above the dip of your throat, from the little flower prints on your dress, the skirt of which softly caresses your thighs, to occasional glimpse of seemingly soft flesh that teases the Scythian, left uncovered by a pair of white thigh-highs.

It is retrieving you that is the hard part.

Immediately upon arrival, Andromache has read your features for perhaps a trace of recognition. You paying the Scythian a visit in her dreams can only mean one thing after all: that she, too, must have appeared in yours. Yet, no widening of your eyes greet her, only a smile that does not waver.

“Hi, welcome to cafe Trouvaille. What can I get you?”

“Americano will do. Hot.”

Beside the fact that it is broad day light, a few people roam the place. As capable as Andromache is of manhandling you, it is not in her best interest to attract attention. The situation calls for patience. Rushing will spell only more trouble at best. Wait she must, and so, wait she does.

Leisurely, the Scythian sips her coffee, studying you periodically as she does so. It is after some minutes have ticked by, the cup of coffee sitting on the table, empty and cold, that she decides to fish a book, leather-bound and well-worn, out of her backpack. Thumbing through old pages, Andromache spends the better part of the wait indulging in literature, until one by one, people start trickling out of the shop.

In due time, it leaves only the Scythian and you.

The sky has taken on a deep orange hue by the time she stands to approach you. She eyes you surreptitiously, and upon confirming that she is not at the receiving end of your attention, the Scythian moves to lock the door. Ever the diligent wielder of caution, she does not forget to flip the little dangling plate. The letter “We’re closed.” that is carved into the wood will help ward off potential visitors.

Even as she walks towards the counter, you do not seem to notice her for you are kept occupied by the book in your lap, fingers busy scribbling onto paper. It is the tinkle of porcelain on marble as she drops the cup and saucer atop the counter that finally has your eyes zeroing in on her. She watches you watch her. Backdropped by the sunset with her shades finally tucked away into the pocket of her jacket, the sight of the Scythian brings about a subtle shift in your mien. Although fleeting, the furrow of your brows that must have been imperceptible to others, does not go unnoticed.

“Hello, again. I hope you’ve had a good time.”

The smile that you give her is sweet, if not the most genuine.

“Why don’t we save the pleasantries, hm?” The smile that touches her lips, in contrast, has a hint of sourness. “You’ve seen me before.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe I have.”

Your answer only brings about a twofold increase in the Scythian’s irritation. Judging by the slightest delay in your response, she knows that you are well aware that she has not meant it as a query, and so, she says as much.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”

The adamant denial from you has strong, slender digits tightening around the strap that is slung over one shoulder.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? You died, and then you woke up, saw a bunch of people you had never seen before in your dream, including me.”

“But, that was- No. Surely it was-.”

“Look, kid-” Forming into a thin line are Andromache’s lips as she takes a moment to compose herself, slowly huffing out an exhale through flared nostrils. “-I know you’ve got questions but I need you to come with me first.”

“No. No, I don’t think so. This isn’t real. None of this is real. Leave, please. I need you to leave.”

Lips that slowly curl into a smirk and a chuckle that comes out dark and dangerous. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice.”

Battered boots that come to rest just shy of polished loafers.

“You know…your folly is, dare i say, commendable. Reality is not just something you can rewrite, and yet, you managed an impeccable job of tricking yourself into thinking what you believe to be the truth is the truth.”

One foreboding frame that looms like a predator and the one that cowers like a cornered prey.

“Alas, I almost feel bad for shattering your little illusion. But then again, I’ve done a great many questionable things in my life having lived as long as I have. What significance would it make to add another?”

“What I saw in my dream. They really happened.” It is a question albeit not being voiced like one. The Scythian does not find the need to answer. Why bother when the answer already lies in your hand?

At her silence, a look of horror dawns on your features. “You’re a murderer. You and your friends. I’ve seen them. I- I’m not- I can’t.”

“Oh darling, a rose without thorns is but a weed, easy to be plucked, to be trampled on. You’re one of us now. You will come with me whether you like it or not, and you will do so this instant.”

Every single step you hesitantly take back is met with an immediate footfall of boots as they fall right onto the place that your loafers have just vacated. It goes like this for a while, you actively ruining the close proximity, and Andromache rectifying it, until there is nowhere for you to flee, and your hips collide with the counter edge.

“Why me?” She parries your plea with a nonchalant shrug, face impassive. “Beats me.”

“Please, I-” Tears glisten in your eyes, murmuring beseechingly. “Let me go. I can’t kill. I know nothing about fighting.”

While her hands grip the counter on either side of your waist to cage you in strong arms, her lips lower to the shell of your ear, breath warm as she speaks. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You can kill. In fact, anyone can. You just have to listen to me.”

“No! Let me go! I don’t want-” Yells dissolve into a yelp by way of digits seizing your jaw.

“I’ve gone out of my way to exercise great forbearance, but it is running terribly thin. It would do you well not to try it any further.” She husks threateningly, feeling the softness of your cheeks giving under the roughness of her battle-hardened fingers. Salty droplets drench her digits as tears start spilling in rivulets down your cheeks.

“Go on, bite me with those baby teeth. Scratch me with your little paws.” She taunts. “Why, would you look at that! All bark and no bite. How pathetic.”

It is as she says this that your teeth sink into the palm that is pressed tightly against your mouth. The unexpected retaliation has her stance faltering, and although you manage to break free from her bodily confines, the Scythian, being far more nimble and dexterous, hardly has to break sweat in recapturing you.

“You're a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? Two can play that game, although don’t say I didn’t warn you. Breaking men, after all, is considered one of my fortes.”

Wrists locked behind your back in her iron grip, and body bent over the marble counter, Andromache revels in the quavering of your body beneath her own as one wicked hand, like a sneaky serpent, slowly slithers up your thigh.

“Are you-” A whimper flies past your lips when your arms are pulled taunt, shoulders craning uncomfortably. And then, she yanks, hard and unforgiving, until you are forced onto your feet, back colliding with her front. “Are you going to kill me?”

Andromache cannot help but laugh at your question, a rich throaty sound that brings about the erection of soft little hair on the nape of your neck.

Your wrists are released at the cost of your cheeks bearing the brunt of her ire as rough fingers dig into your flesh. They flee from their cage between the two of your bodies to take sanctuary on her forearm, soft fingers grasping the sleeve of her jacket. “Where’s the fun in killing you when I can just have my way with you, hm?” Her hold around one of your thighs remains unrelenting while the hand on your jaw coerces you into craning your neck. Your head rests on her chest with a grunt, and you drown, held spellbound by the intense green of her eyes. “I’d rather enjoy the view of you crumbling beneath me than watch you bleed out only to come alive again.”

Although it douses you in shame, you have to admit that you are not entirely immune to the woman. How can you when she oozes charisma, frighteningly beautiful even as she looms over you with all the grandeur of a great menacing panther.

And then, too many things happen all at once; fingers that crawl into a forest of hair to grab a fistful, with a yank to the side, a throat that is bared for the predator above to conveniently sink her teeth into, the frenzied little flutter of a pulse beneath the flat of a warm tongue, chocked sobs that dissolve into a strangled gasp as a cold hand journeys into the waistband of an underwear.

Previously, your hands have found home on her thighs, fingers grappling fabric, but upon feeling wandering digits inside your underwear, one of them flies towards the offending hand, locking around a wrist.

“N-no. You can’t.”

“You would do well to remember that I am in control here.”

The Scythian’s growl is not only heard, but also felt on your skin as teeth nibble, mouth suck, and lips soothe the stings that afterwards will linger on your body in the form of dark blues and bright reds.

Horror and humiliation dance a wild tango whereas fingers waltz delicately along your folds, a condescending tsk echoing off your nape when they come away wet. Betrayed and backstabbed by your own body, mortification colours your face as not one but two of her sizeable digits sink into your heat with little to no effort. Although sudden, it does not hurt, though it stings, leaves you breathless still. Dewdrops bloom on your lashes and they drop down your cheeks when fingers in your core bury knuckles deep, abuse your tightness. You feel them in the very depths of your body, filling you so deliciously that when they wiggle so much as a little, it is more than enough to sucker-punch a breath out of your lungs.

Between her hot mouth kissing your neck all rosy and sore, her fingers cleverly caressing your insides, and her hand toying with your breasts beneath your dress, it is no surprise that your undoing greets you with a tidal wave of pleasure.

It is, however, a surprise to find yourself being shoved back-first onto the table, legs being pulled wide by fingers twining round your thighs. You are still suffering through a series of aftershocks from your first orgasm when her mouth attaches itself to your quavering folds, that wicked tongue immediately slithering into your hole. It does a cruel little nudge and your fingers wind up entwined in her hair. Instead of a reproach, it is a hum of satisfaction that you earn as the Scythian grabs a handful of your buttocks and devour you like a starved man.

By the seventh one, you are well beyond exhausted, brain foggy courtesy of being fucked into oblivion, and body agonisingly sore, littered with deep hues and teeth marks. Somewhere between third and fourth, if you recall correctly, she has stripped you bare, bar your thigh-highs, and completely rid herself off clothes, magnificent muscles coming into display. You have ogled them with barely restrained awe until your attention is swayed elsewhere by her mouth leaving traces of herself all across the expanse of your body.

Now, once again, you marvel at them, entranced by the impressiveness of her muscles that ripple with every roll of her powerful hips.

You barely recognise the face that is staring right back at you, reflected in the surface of sea green eyes, or the sounds that are oozing out of your lips. Sweat clings to the forehead of the woman towering over you as it does to yours. One of your legs is slung over her shoulder, and the other lies limp and useless between her thighs, as she rubs herself into your core with wild abandon.

“I- I can’t. Too much. It’s too muc- ah!”

“Yes, you can.”

She has taken the hand that goes to rest on one of her hipbones only to weave her fingers with yours. Now, they hover in the air, tightly intertwined, suddenly made much tighter by the white knuckled grip of your hand.

“Slow- nghh please! Be gentle.”

“You do as I say. Not the other way round. Is that understood?”

The desperate nods of your head is met with a bite to the succulent inside of your thigh just above the brim of your sock.

“Answer me.”

“Yes!”

“My word shall be your command, and you will dance to my every desire, won’t you darling?”

“Yes! Yes, I will.”

“You are mine after all, aren’t you? Mine to do with what I please. Mine to use how I see fit. Don’t you agree?”

“I’m yours- ngh- all yours.”

“Good girl.” She moans, movements escalating from lazy strokes to untamed gyrations.

“Andy.” She rasps breathlessly. “I want to hear my name dripping down those pretty little lips when you fall apart.”

And hear she does. Andy. Andy. Andy. Andy. Her name is all you can cry out as your juices mingle with one another’s, the combined essence soiling your thigh-highs as well as the couch beneath you.

Back curving, toes curling, you soar high, high into heaven, swimming amongst clouds, drowning in euphoria. And then, you plummet, down into the pit of hell, down into another one of those little deathless deaths. An intense blinding white replaced by an absolute dark.

When you awake, it is to the heart-melting sensation of lips softly caressing your forehead. You find yourself on the same couch that you have passed out, cocooned in toned arms, face tucked snugly into a warm, musky throat. Reflexively, you begin nosing the soft underside of her jaw before you are startled by fingers wandering down your very naked thigh.

“Look at me.” Obediently, you oblige, reluctantly leaving the pleasant warmth of her neck to do what she desires.

“What have I told you?” All too delicately, or as delicately as the callouses on her hand will allow, the pad of a thumb grazes the apple of your cheek.

Fighting against the urge to slip your eyes shut, you sigh dreamily instead. “That as long as I remain a good obedient girl, no harm will befall me.”

“That’s right. And are you?”

A nod as an answer prompts a pat of a forefinger on your cheek, and then, another. You know what she wants, so you give her just that.

“I’m a good girl.”

Not only do you see the smirk on her face, but you also feel it on your skin as she leans down to drag her lips across yours. “You forgot to mention whose, darling.”

“I’m a good girl, Andy. Your good girl.”

“And will my good girl obey my every command like she had promised?”

“Mmhm.”

A breath catches in your throat as her lips journey down down down, admiring the traces of none other than herself until that ravenous mouth adjourn to your hip, sucking the tender spot on your hipbone to make it all the more vibrant.

Although it has not been the main purpose of her doing what she has done, it is without doubt that Andromache gets a sick sort of pleasure out of seeing you covered in her marks. Every inch of your body and soul, all irrevocably hers.

You have said it so yourself, willingly given yourself up to her. That being said, it is purely her own greed that has her craving more and more and more of you. The scent of you that is sinfully sweet, heady and uniquely yours, makes her ache. The sight of you, like the dewy petals of an exquisite flower, pretty and pulsating, makes her mouth water.

It is with this insatiable hunger swelling inside of her that the Scythian sinks to her knees between your luxuriously smooth thighs.

“One more, darling. Give me one more before we leave.”

And you do, oh how you do even as one bleeds into two and two into three, because a good girl does what she is taught, does she not? And you are a good girl, Andy’s sweet little good girl to do with what she will.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

#andromache the scythian x reader #andromache of scythia x reader #andromache x reader #andromache x you #andy the old guard #andy andromache of scythia #andromache the scythian #andromache of scythia #character x reader #charlize theron x reader #charlize theron #the old guard #smut #gif #movie gifs

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saltydkdan · 1 year

Note

Salty, may I ask which you recommend more: the one piece manga or anime. I wanna get into it but I also want a recommendation on which one may be better to start with depending on the pros and cons. Anyways I apologies if this is a dumb thing to ask.

Sure! One Piece is a really interesting beast when it comes to the difference between it's anime and manga, and at the end of the day it depends on your preferences- However yes, there are Pros and Cons to each! For this ask, I'll be trying my best to stick to the Official options available to you.

Also, this post specifically will be about how to best GET INTO the series, not necessarily a critique on the content of it! (I'll gladly do a separate write up on that eventually if anyone is interested in my thoughts on the Pros and Cons of the series itself)

Anyway, here are my personal thoughts:

MANGA

(This is my preferred way to experience the story)

PROS

-I'm not a manga purist by any means HOWEVER, the One Piece Manga is really good

-The pacing is really great (especially initially). In the first half, arcs are very quick and snappy! And even as they got progressively longer in length I didn't mind because by that point the story already gripped me.

-The art is wonderful in both black and white, and the official colored scans (which you can find online)

-This isn't really a "pro" per say, but it's something I enjoy doing. When I read, I like to put on some of the soundtrack from the anime. I usually find stuff like "Tense One Piece Music" or "Emotional One Piece Music" and listen to it as I read. It really enhances the experience for me personally. I also like to look up clips of arcs from the anime that I'm reading or already finished to see what they look like, and also see them in a fun new way. I feel like this sort of mixed approach is optimal for me.

CONS

-You have to read 😔

-There are many ways to read One Piece and in many different languages. There's black and white and colored manga- however just be careful. The best one TRANSLATION wise is the official release, and while you may find other options, some older "unofficial" translations are VERY outdated (I once saw one where Zoro casually dropped slurs)

-That also being said: Even though the official translation is the best, it is stuck in black and white. Many official colored scans were never officially licensed in English, and because of that aren't as accessible.

-Collecting it physically is fun, but can get VERY pricey. Like... hoo boy. Thankfully they sell compendiums that collect a metric shit ton of chapters, however the paper/print quality is noticeably cheaper. So if you want to collect them, the smaller volume releases are the way to go. That being said, I would just suggest using the Shonen Jump App by Viz Media. It's the best official way to support the series officially, as well as the cheapest for the average consumer! $3 a month for the entire library as well as other series + getting new chapters updated every week is great. I'm not sponsored or anything either, I just really like the model. So if you find yourself really enjoying the series, THEN you can go about collecting it physically if you want!

ANIME

PROS

-It's animated (obviously)

-You have a choice of either the Japanese Sub or English Dub. This also boils down to preference but from my experience they're both great options!!

-I'll get into it in the "Cons" section, but the One Piece anime is VERY long, like... kind of in a not so good way at certain points. However, I've heard that even though some parts are a bit too long, it's one of those things that if you really get into it, you'll love the fact that it feels like a never ending adventure! Not my experience, but it's what others have told me!

-This is gonna sound crazy, but Filler Arcs. A lot of people don't like these, and I get why, but they are very easily skippable if you want to look up a guide, and some of them can actually be really short and fun (as well as add a bit of extra flavor to the story). One of the best examples is an arc called "G-8". Even Manga readers recommend it, so you know it's good and gives each of the characters some fun moments!

CONS

-You may be aware already, but the One Piece anime has a very bad reputation of having HORRIBLE pacing. Now, to be fair, many people say that the pacing only gets truly horrible AFTER a very specific arc about halfway through the series (which is where a lot of anime watchers jump ship to the manga)

However, I'll be honest... I wasn't a super huge fan of the pacing from the beginning. To clarify, I STARTED with the anime. I don't have a super great attention span, so having to wait around 38 or so episodes for "Arlong Park", the arc that people suggest you get to before deciding whether to keep going or quit, was very difficult for me at first. I got through it, and I'm glad I did, but as soon as I did, I decided to switch over to the manga and had a much easier time.

-I find the show's music very repetitive at times. That's not to say the music is necessarily bad, I love the One Piece OST! It's just... over the years they have barely updated the soundtrack. Every arc you might here one or two new tracks, however a lot of the time you'll hear the same tracks replayed in the same sort of situations. ("OVERTAKEN" is an AMAZING track, but if I hear it one more time I'm gonna snap)

-This is a bit of a nitpick but I need to say it. One Piece's sound effects, while iconic, are also extremely outdated. When you start the series and hear the older-styled Toei Animation sound design, it is super charming because it fits with the older visuals. However in more modern One Piece, which visually looks incredible, THEY STILL USE THE OLD SOUND EFFECTS AND THEY JUST DON'T FIT.

TOEI, UPDATE YOUR SOUND LIBRARY!!!

ANYWAY...

Anyway, I hope my funny little list here helps!! Sorry it's so long, went a bit off the handle. But I think this is a fine enough starter guide and may help you get started!

#salty asks #saltydkdan #one piece #Manga #long boys

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 11 days

Text

First Date. - Price x OC

|| [ Part Two ->] ||

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 2.8K~ cw: flirting, insults, banter, smut mentioned, sexual innuendos/intentions

"NURSE 20040132, RECEPTION ASAP."

Kathleen looked down at her pager and cocked a brow. Usually, she didn't get called to reception unless stuff was going down.

Sighing, she took off her latex gloves and walked over to the sink, washing her hands up to her forearms, before she left the A&E area through one of the double doors.

Scanning her badge on the sensor by the staff-only doors, she stepped out to the reception, clad in her royal blue scrubs.

She had been expecting a reception packed full, or maybe a very distraught family member reaming out the receptionist... But instead, the reception was not very full, and her eyes locked on one very tall and burly Captain Price.

He looked different this time. Still tall and imposing, with big hairy arms on display...

But sporting a thicker, fuller beard... and now wearing a full uniform. A quarter-zip fleece with camo print on the arms, and plain tan on the body, cargo pants and boots... and a kevlar vest.

It had been two weeks since she'd gone over to Stirling Lines to ream out the man and, true to his word, he didn't put in more requests for Wallcroft's release... But now, being here, it rang alarm bells in Kathleen's mind.

Was she about to get reamed out in front of hospital staff the way she did to him, in front of his inferiors? Or was he about to warn he was pursuing Non-Judicial Punishment for her?

Approaching him, she clipped her I.D. back on the left breast pocket of her scrubs and approached the reception desk, leaning on the surrounding wall of the desk, where one of the admin nurses was stationed. "Parker, you rang?" She beckoned.

"I did." Price spoke up before Nurse Parker could get a word in. Kathleen turned her face to look up at John with a cocked brow before she sighed and nodded.

"What can I help you with, Captain?" She asked him, placing her hands in the front pockets of her blue scrubs top.

Price looked at her with a slight tilt of his neck and head, as if he wanted to appear smaller for her, or, maybe, to hear her and see her beter.

His blue eyes took in the shape of the beautiful woman in front of him, the way her uniform didn't conceal the curvy nature of her body, or the size of her breasts, even with an extra layer in the shape of a black underscrubs top beneath the blue scrubs.

"Wanted to see you." He replied as his gaze slid back up to meet her brown ones.

"See me, huh?" She asked and tilted her head to the side, noting the way his hands slid up to grip the straps of his vest right below each shoulder.

The man nodded in agreement, eyebrows raising up to his hairline, which was concealed by a toque, as if he was inviting her to argue about it.

"Well..." Kathleen trailed off as she looked at him. "You saw me." Kathleen said. "Now if you don't mind, I've got better things to do than stand here looking pretty." She began to turn away to duck back behind the security doors.

"Moore, please, wait a minute." Price said, calling her by her surname, which she had no clue he knew. It caused her to stop and look over at him again, over her shoulder.

Sighing loudly, she turned fully to face him and rolled her eyes. "What, Captain?" She asked, conceding in giving him another moment of her time.

John took a step closer, and another, until he was standing over her again. "Let me take you out."

Kathleen cocked a brow. Not the first time a soldier or officer had tried asking her on a date. Hell, not the first they'd turned up after they had been cleared or discharged from treatment just to see her...

But it was the first time that a man invited her out after she had cussed him out.

Shaking her head, she turned away again, and walked over to the double doors she had just emerged from, scanning her I.D. on the reader and pushing the door open. Then, she looked over her shoulder.

John was still standing there, hands on the straps of his vest, looking at her with a deep gaze, like he was trying to see through the layers of her scrubs. Sighing and tapping her foot on the floor twice, she finally waved him over with her hand.

He quickly rushed toward her just as she pushed the door back fully. "Walk with me." She demanded as she began moving down the hall. The man obeyed, staying by her side.

"Don't touch anything, don't look anywhere, don't talk to anyone." She warned him as they passed another doorway, which she pushed open by pressing the crash bar down with her wide hip.

Price followed after her, slipping past the door by turning to the side. "Are you going to let me take you out?" He insisted.

"I'm busy." Was the only reply she could give him, eyes glued forward as they weaved through the hallways.

"I mean on your day off, love."

"I'm a nurse. We don't have those."

"Well, when's your next break?"

"I'm on my feet for 12 hours a day. I don't eat a full meal or drink water for those same 12 hours. I'm genuinely considering starting to wear an adult nappy so I can cut the amount of times I have to go to the loo which are already not a lot because I have a strong bladder and don't drink nearly enough to need to go often, hell, I already wear nicotine patches because I can't get myself smoke breaks."

A normal man would've flinched or winced or shown disgust at what she was saying. At the very least, because it was TMI, and at the most because she's clearly trying to gross him out and scare him away.

And yet John remained impavid, looking at her with the same expression as always, a slightly amused smirk tugging at his lips, eyes locked on her face, on her mouth, as she spoke.

"Didn't answer my question, love."

"I don't have breaks, Captain."

"John." He corrected her.

"Hm?" She cocked a brow as she finally turned to actually look at him.

"John Price." He replied, introducing himself to her.

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she introduced herself in turn. "Kathleen Moore."

"When are you free, Kathleen?" He insisted as he looked at her, right in her eyes, head dipped at an angle.

"Not anytime soon."

"Well... whenever 'not anytime soon' comes..." John began as he reached into his pocket and produced a piece of paper in which he'd scribbled his number prior to the conversation. "Give me a ring." He reached the folded up paper toward her.

Kathleen took his number carefully and stuffed it into her breast pocket. "I'll think about it."

"I'll make sure to wipe all the thoughts from that busy head of yours when you do, love."

"Yeah, right." Kathleen scoffed as they finally entered the A&E department and she quickly washed her hands once more and popped on a pair of latex gloves, before disappearing behind a curtain to check on a patient, leaving John standing there, by the doors leading back out.

As it turns out, 'not anytime soon' was actually almost a week later, on Saturday. She shot him a text a bit last minute and, as such, they agreed on coffee, not far from base.

Kathleen arrived and went inside the quaint coffeeshop, immediately catching a glimpse of John in the corner of the room, having claimed a booth to himself. He caught sight of her too, blue eyes flittering over her body, almost shamelessly so.

Kathleen got in line and ordered herself a tea and a raspberry tartlet, paying for them before she headed over to John's table. He was already sitting with his own cuppa and a lemon drizzle cake slice in front of him.

"Took your sweet time, love." John told her as she took her seat beside him, placing her purse on the other side of her body, leaving her left side open for John to come closer.

"Yeah... I didn't want to come." Kathleen replied as she shook her head and gave him a dismissive, mocking glance.

John sighed and shook his head. a smile tugging at the corner of his lips... which only grew when he noticed she was smirking too.

"You think you're funny, huh?"

"Oh, no, I don't think so, I am funny, Captain." She teased him.

John's blue eyes squinted at her in mild amusement, before he leaned a bit closer to her, setting a hand on her hand over the table. "Worth the wait, though, I've gotta say." He remarked, looking her up and down.

His date smiled a bit in the face of the compliment and shook her head. "Thank you..." She said sincerely.

Kathleen looked radiant, her long brown hair tied in a half-up half-down style, wearing pretty make-up and jewelry, and a stunning black and gold cami top, with skin-tight blue jeans and black high-heeled boots.

"You could've put in a bit more effort, though." She quipped as she looked at him. "Looking like you've just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing you saw in your closet." She said, a mean smirk on her lips, as she watched his eyes narrow.

She had a point however. She had definitely tried harder than him... In his blue jeans, grey quarter-button shirt and black jacket, paired with blue sneakers.

"Oh is that how it is?" John taunted her while cocking a brow, sliding even closer to her, wrapping an arm around the small of her back and onto the side of her hip, pulling her tight against him.

A normal woman would already be pulling away. John was too bold, too handsy... But as Kathleen stared right into his eyes, she couldn't find it in herself to mind.

"Mhm... that's how it is." She murmured as she leaned into him as well, swiveling at the hip in order to face him, setting her hands on his chest.

"We'll see who'll look like they just rolled out of bed when I'm done with you." He murmured in her ear, only pulling away as soon as the waiter came over with Kathleen's order.

It reminded them, forcibly so, that they were in a public place, and caused them both to put some distance between them.

"Portuguese, huh?" John asked as he sipped on his second cuppa, holding it around the brim and trying not to burn himself on the hot liquid.

"Mhm..." Kathleen stirred the spoon in her own second cup almost mindlessly.

How they had gone from flirting shamelessly and nearly jumping each other's bones to having a normal, cordial getting-to-know-each-other conversation was beyond them.

They had been at it for nearly two hours now... and they had talked about it all:

What they studied and where (RMA Sandhurst vs. King's College);

How they came to be in their respective careers (wanted to do something good with his life vs. got recommended to enlist due to her bedside manners being 'tough');

What they do in their free time (reading and working out day-to-day, and fishing, woodworking and home/car restoration when he's home vs. reading, yoga and baking);

And now, of course, they were venturing into getting to know more of each other's pasts.

"Where in England did you grow up?" He asked her.

"Around Colchester." She said with a shrug before setting down her spoon and sipping her tea as well. "You?"

"Right around here. Hereford." He replied as he set down his cup and rested his right hand over hers again, fiddling with her feminine hand with his calloused hands, admiring the red nail polish she had put on.

"Big family?" She asked him with a cocked brow.

"Already asking me about my family, da'lin'? A bit eager, aren't ya?" John teased her while cocking his brow, then, slid closer again, lifting her hand up to his mouth and peppering a stupid kiss on the back of it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, 's it making it seem like I want to take yer last name or something, you big bastard?" She taunted in return, which earned her a laugh from him.

"You're a terrible woman, you know that?" He replied, causing her to roll her eyes. "God help the man who marries you one day."

Kathleen scoffed at him and rolled her eyes again. "And this is coming from the man that nearly groveled on his knees to ask me out?"

"I didn't grovel, you hellcat."

"Right, you just accosted me at work and begged me to go out with you, innit, John?"

John scoffed too but dropped another kiss on the back of her hand, and then over her fingers, and onto her palm, blue eyes glued to her brown ones.

There was something in his eyes, something in his kisses. Every nasty word they traded, paired with those stupid kisses of his, and his beard rubbing against her soft skin... She could see herself getting lost in it. In him.

"Didn't answer my question." She told him swiftly, changing the subject as she slipped her hand off his grasp and pushed his head back playfully by the forehead, before grabbing her cuppa and sipping it a bit more.

John didn't feel deterred, he simply slid over, wrapping an arm around the small of her back again and looking into her eyes from up close, even as she drank from her steamy tea cup, his lips almost pressed to it from the other side.

She regarded him through the steam, and over the rim of her cuppa, as if forcefully drawing out her sip of tea, to force him to wait, to have to answer her, the eye contact between them electric and full of heat.

"Just a younger sister." John finally gave in and replied, and so, she finally pulled back the cuppa and set it over the table again.

"Two sisters, two brothers." Kathleen replied in exchanged, which caused John's eyebrows to shoot up.

"Big fuckin' family, that there." John remarked, and she nodded in reply. "You're the big sister?"

"Second oldest." She replied, causing John to nod this time.

"No wonder you're so feisty, sweet'art."

"And no wonder you're such a cunt, John."

"Oh, are big brothers cunts for ya, are they?"

"They are. It's like they make it their life mission to be cunts to their little sisters."

"And you'd know it all about being a cunt, wouldn't ya?" John teased with a cocked brow.

Kathleen didn't deny it, she didn't even seem offended, she merely shrugged and smirked.

John's eyes caught the way the corner of her plump lips curled up in satisfaction and smugness, the cupid's bow well-defined even with just a light layer of peach coloured lipstick.

He leaned his head forward again, taking advantage of the cup no longer being in the way and, slowly, rubbed his lips against the corner of her mouth, his beard rubbing against her jaw and cheek.

His large nose brushed the side of her shorter, upturned one and, softly, he whispered against the skin of her cheek. "Should let me get you out of here..."

"And why would I do that, Jonathan?" Kathleen asked in return, playing coy.

As if her breathing hadn't already hitched in anticipation at the idea of what John was proposing, as if she hadn't been boldly staring a him and the way his clothes clung to his muscular body, the way his cologne wrapped around her like a cloud, as if his strong arm around her didn't make her want to mount him.

"If you keep saying my name like that..." John murmured under his breath as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. Kathleen's hand slid down his stomach and over his belt buckle, before settling over the growing bulge in his blue jeans.

"Fuckin' 'ell... You'll be the fuckin' death of me, Kat." He added with a hiss, eyes fluttering a bit from the mere fact her hand was rubbing over his bulge under the table. "Let me take you out of here, sweet'art." He pleaded in a whisper.

"I don't know..." Kathleen continued teasing him in a coy tone. "I'm not really the type that goes to bed with a bloke on the first date... Not that this even counts as a first date." She added in a scathing tone, causing John to hiss again.

"Right... except I'm not a bloke... I'm a man." John murmured. "And this isn't a first date, according to you..." He listed off. "And... I don't plan on taking you to bed. I plan on watching you ride my cock in the back of my car..." He added, his blue eyes finding hers at the same time as she sucked her bottom lip behind her teeth.

Kathleen wished she could argue with him... But it's not every day that a man not only tolerates her attitude but hands it back equally. And, hell, she couldn't deny that John was attractive... Maybe a bit too attractive...

"So what do you say?" John added with a smirk.

#ikea writes 💚#cod oc #oc: kathleen “brass” price #price x kathleen #john price x oc #cod fanfic #cod fandom

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heich0e · 1 year

Text

osamu is taking you—full-time professional sports writer, part-time professional atsumu slanderer—on a date.

well, kind of a date.

he's calling it a date, at least in the privacy of his own mind, while you seem to be regarding the ordeal with a sort of business-like detachment.

he wants to know more about you. you want him to call off his rice-ball eating dogs and clear your name at work. just like how all great romances begin.

you'd agreed to meeting him only on your own terms. the sole semblance of flexibility you'd shown came when you had asked to meet in the early afternoon, but since he "has a restaurant to run" (and has never been more grateful for it) you begrudgingly agreed to a meeting in the evening. 'NOT dinner' you'd been sure to specify in the email calendar invite you'd sent him, along with an attached time and a place to meet—a whole 25 minutes blocked off for the occasion.

osamu, truthfully, wasn't sure what to do with an email calendar invitation—he didn't even know emails had calendars—so he simply printed it out and pinned it to his office wall. and that's where it's remained ever since; inked on the piece of paper pinned beside the restaurant's weekly shift schedule, just in the corner of his eye as he sits at his desk, is the much-anticipated day, time, and location where he'd get to see you again.

at a sports bar of all places.

you're already there when he arrives 15 minutes early, seated at a booth tucked away to the side, your eyes fixed to the soccer match playing on a flat screen in front of you while you sip from a frothy, frosty pint of beer.

your eyes meet his from across the room, your glass poised at your lips.

you're still in your work clothes—at least, he assumes they're your work clothes since they're all he's ever seen you in. business casual but still tasteful, complimenting your figure without necessarily flaunting it in an overt way, a bit rumpled now that you've been wearing them through to the evening. there's something intimidating about the way you meet his stare without hesitation. in the way you swallow your mouthful of beer without looking away.

you stand from the table as he approaches.

"miya-san," you greet him—cool, clipped, and professional—bending slightly at the waist in what might sort of be considered a bow, but only in the most generous of terms.

he returns the greeting.

"please, call me samu," he says, sliding into his side of the booth across from you as you take your seat once more. "'s good to see ya again."

it doesn't escape his notice that you can't seem to bring yourself to feign any sort of concurrence.

"thank you for making time to meet with me," you say instead, which he suspects is sincere enough, if not a bit dry.

"well, we have things to talk about," osamu chuckles, adjusting his baseball cap in the way he always does when he's nervous—lifting it by the brim before resettling it snugly atop his head.

"we do," you agree, your tone tight and notably strained.

osamu shifts awkwardly in his seat, the vinyl of the booth upholstery squeaking underneath him. he looks out around him, his eyes scanning the bar for lack of anything else to do in the silence that follows. it's packed, predominantly with men in varying states of inebriation, all cheering on the assorted sports matches playing out on the many screens which line the walls of the bar.

"interesting spot," osamu remarks, turning his attention back to you.

your own eyes are focused on a baseball game on a screen to the left, now, and his gaze trails your profile as raptly as yours follow the pitch.

the batter swings and misses.

strike.

"most screens of any sports bar in osaka. owner's a real fanatic too—airs a lot of the games and leagues other bars don't care to show."

another pitch. another strike.

"you come here a lot?" osamu dares to ask—the first personal question of the evening, but a relatively safe one to test the waters. he wants to know more about you, but at least this question still comes across just like polite small-talk that's tangentially relevant to the circumstances at hand.

you turn your face towards osamu, then, your expression flat.

he likes the colour of your eyes, and the way they look in the dim bar. likes the way the glowing blue light of the surrounding televisions makes your features stand out a little bit more starkly as it dances across them.

"i think we should just get to the point, miya-san."

the batter on the screen across the room strikes out.

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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madhattersez · 1 year

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I finally got my hands on something I've been looking for (for a reasonable price) since I was just a lowly little level 12 hornball - A "Marvel Swimsuit Special!"

This is the second issue in the series (though the third book of its kind), and it was released in 1993 when... times were different.

The coolest thing about them (other than the totally radical '90s hunkeroos and baberinos in general) is the amount of really talented artists that submitted pieces - So many industry-leading folks putting their spin on the self-aware, low-brow, tongue-in-cheek project.

This first image was by Joe Jusko, a super popular cover artist at the time. I remember his Conan covers the most.

I'll eventually scan the whole thing in high quality, but for now, I'll take some preview pics to show you some of my favorite and/or goofiest pages:

Here is Domino, looking like we might need to race her to a Dermatology appointment. She's apparently tacky enough to wear a swimsuit with a domino print on it.

And check out Cable in the back - Sun's out, cyberbun out! He's ready to catch some waves on a totally-worth-the-money-and-production-time rocket-powered machine gun surfboard.

I really appreciate this artist's commitment to all the "Liefeld pouches" here. I hope they're waterproof, or all those Tic Tacs inside 'em are gonna get ruined. :(

Penciling by Chris Batista, ink by Hector Collazo, coloring by Mark McNaab.

Let's kick off the "after the jump" part properly with this glorious image of Pip. Because this is certainly what people bought this book for.

It just so happens that this fuzzy little asshole narrates the entire issue, so he's to blame for the inherently sexist captions on all the pictures.

Jesus Christ, he's got two big toes on each foot.

Pencilking by Darick Robertson, ink by Andrew Pepoy, coloring by Tom Smith.

I love me some Cloak and Dagger.

Tandy looks as gorgeous as ever. Surely she owns stock in boobie tape by now.

Tyrone, however, is getting so much sand stuck to him right now... I don't think he digs being used as a beach blanket. I'm... not even sure he's ever had to wash his cloak before today! Yikes. He's all like:

Penciling by Joe Madureira, ink by Terry Austin, and coloring by Gregory Wright.

I can't stop laughing at how much Thunderstrike looks exactly like the Genetic Freak, Big Poppa Pump Scott Steiner in this picture:

The work is entirely by Lou Harrison. It may not surprise you to learn he's also a Fantasy artist.

I've always had a thing for Silver Sable, and this page is just fantastic.

That being said, my favorite part is Sandman sitting there, looking like a dope, shaped like a sand castle. Which, while it seems silly, was probably the most challenging and detailed thing I've ever seen him do with his powers. Worth it for the shot, I suppose!

Line work and ink by Steven Butler, a favorite of mine. He did penciling for the "Silver Sable and the Wild Pack" series (which got me attached), but he's also known for designing the Scarlet Spider suit. Coloring by Gregory Wright.

If you thought I wasn't going to Morb out on this post, you were undead wrong.

Just look at that ridiculous batpackage. Also... Is he really serving a cape over a leather jacket, but with absolutely no pants? Damn, dude.

Penciling by Gary Barker, ink by Jimmy Palmiotti, coloring by Tom Smith.

I can spot Adam Hughes' work a mile away, wow. I guess I didn't realize he was doing work for Marvel this far back.

A fierce-as-ever, short-haired Natasha who looks like she got slammed so hard against a rocky wall that it cracked, got up, emptied out the rest of her clip, and still had enough time and energy to pose during a reload.

Black Widow, bay-bayyy. ♫

Oh my god, Ghost Rider is just so naughty. Wearing nothing but his birthday bones.

This scene just looks like it smells awful.

Artwork by Tristan Shane.

Shulkie in a metal bikini (function over fashion?), bursting out of the lava from an active volcano. You wanna talk "hot tub?" Sure, this gets a feature.

Penciling and ink by cover artist Steve Geiger, coloring by Paul... Mounts.

Deezamn, Bishop. Never seen guy looking so buff before.

Instead of just Bishop, this looks like Hank McCoy and Bishop had a child together. Does he have any other mode than "arm vein p-pop?"

Penciling by Dwayne Turner, ink by Mark Farmer, coloring by Gregory Wright.

Ah, one of the more famous '90s Psylocke images that wasn't done by Jim Lee.

This centerfold was used in lots of comic store ads for several years after this issue came out. I remember seeing posters in the shops themselves. Trading cards of this picture are one of the most costly to collect.

It's beautiful, and the colors/lighting/shading are all fantastic.

Penciling and ink by the wonderful Art Thibert, creator of the Raft max security prison and inker of some of the most iconic X-title covers.

Coloring by Paul Mounts, who did the coloring in hundreds and hundreds of just Marvel comics alone - I didn't mention that earlier because I was snickering at his name earlier in the She-Hulk feature. My bad.

Well, this wouldn't be Tumblr without a cat picture, yeah? Or a catgirl picture, I suppose.

This is the most adorable scene in the book. Just Tigra innocently taking a cuddle nap with some... um... wow, I don't know what the fuck those things are. Snuggle up anyway!

Penciling and ink by Amanda Conner, coloring by Gregory Wright.

Huh. Of all the characters in this book, I really didn't expect to see Dr. Cooper... Either which way, the swimsuit under the detective get-up is pretty choice, honestly.

This is, of course, another Adam Hughes line art joint. Ink by Mark Farmer, coloring by Gregory Wright (who did a lot of these, huh?).

What's this? A parody ad that you'd more expect to see in an issue of "What The--?!" that only '80s kids will understand? Yup, totally.

This was in the back of the book and doesn't fit the theme at all, but it gets a mention because of the weird inclusion and also to stall time until I had the final image ready, because I needed time to prepare...

THIS.

This is the one.

How could I not end this little "show and tell" without this beauty right here?

Here, we have remorseless killer Frank Castle flexing his best end-of-catwalk pose in front of a... wrestling match between a bunch of lady demon dinosaurs battling... for his affection? To tip him American cash? Or maybe all those hearts come from their love of beating each other up? I'm not here to judge.

And then there's a sign for 75 cent hotdogs, but it's been covered with another sign for... $20 tooth brushes? What in the shit is going on here?

There is one thing I do know, though. The artist wants you to think that The Punisher has at least $2.75 worth of hotdog under that massive crotch skull.

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solradguy · 10 months

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SOL RADGUY SCANNING GUIDE

Covers:

What you need to scan a book.

How to do it.

How to do it better.

What to do now that it's scanned.

This is a long post with images.

WHAT YOU NEED //

A scanner.

I use an Epson Perfection v39. It's old but it was affordable (~us$60 in 2016 money) and it's reliable. You need something that can scan in color, greyscale, and black & white modes at 300 DPI. DPI (Dots Per Inch) is the resolution the scanner outputs the scan in. Anything over 300 DPI for art/comic scans is a little overkill, imo. However, if you're planning on printing physical copies of your scans, consider scanning them in at 600 DPI for something around printer paper sized, or 1200 DPI for posters. These files will balloon in size considerably with the increase in DPI. It may be worth it buying an extra hard drive just for managing work in progress scan files if your computer's local hard drive is smaller than 500gb.

Black construction paper.

Construction paper that's black. Put this behind the page you're scanning and it prevents page bleed through. More on how this is used below.

Masking tape.

Not really necessary, but useful for mapping out the ideal scanning area on your scanning bed. Speeds things up.

Art/photo manipulation program.

I use Clip Studio Paint EX ver. 2.0 and Photoshop CS5. Your program should have a clone tool and basic image manipulation such as cropping and rotating. Free alternatives are GIMP and Photopea.

OPTIONAL:

White inspection gloves.

These are thin cotton gloves used to handle sensitive things such as historical photos, coins, and old books. Highly recommend investing in a cheap pack if your book has glossy pages. Don't have to worry about cleaning up greasy fingerprints in post with these on.

Bone folder.

This is a flat plastic (bone, historically) stick used to crease pages in book-making. I find having one is useful for carefully pushing pages flatter to get cleaner scans. If your book has tense binding this tool might prove useful.

Heat gun, hair dryer, or a stovetop + big skillet.

Tools for de-binding books in order of most to least useful. I use a heat gun. More on how these are used two sections down.

X-acto knife.

For skinning. It's sharp, it's a knife.

Non-abrasive document cleaning pad.

If you buy a book with glossy pages that's greasy as hell consider picking one of these up. It's a fabric pouch full of a soft powder that gently picks up and removes dirt and oils from paper. I've got one by Lineco and used it on the Dengeki PlayStation magazine scans. Some art stores will carry these but I had to buy mine online.

HOW TO DO IT //

Remove the dustjacket, obi (informational band around the book), and any other loose materials inside of the book (mark what pages those materials were found on). Clean the pages as best as you can with the doc. cleaning pad or just wiping it down gently with a dry paper towel, then get your black construction paper and stick it behind the page that's going to be scanned. If your book is really big, remove the lid on your scanner. It's only going to get in the way.

Try to put as much pressure on the spine as you safely can and hold down the parts your hand can't reach with something heavy-ish. I usually use this paint water jar. Scan in PNG or TIFF format at 300 DPI. For art books and manga use either the color or greyscale modes. Raw text (novels, etc) benefits from the black & white mode.

Here's the raw scan:

Artworks of Guilty Gear X 2000-2007 scans very nicely despite being perfect bound (bound with glue) and rather stiff, but it's still an old book and has some minor damage that will need cleaned up in post later, as well as any dust that I missed cleaning off my scanner bed beforehand. The gutter is on the left. Note the black specks of dust in the right corner and in the big white area, and how you can't see any of the image printed on the other side of this page due to the black construction paper preventing bleed through:

HOW TO DO IT BETTER //

SKINNING BOOKS. A scary thought... But sometimes necessary. Manga volumes have really tight binding that makes them almost impossible to get clean scans of in a traditional flat scanner bed.

You will need either a heat gun, hairdryer, or a big skillet and a stovetop for this part. I use a heat gun. Warm the spine of the book CAREFULLY over the heat gun while gently pulling back on the cover until it pops free from the glue. A hairdryer will be used the same way as a heat gun, just slower. Turn it to the hottest setting.

For the skillet method, heat it up until it's just a little too hot to touch (BE CAREFUL; don't actually touch the skillet with your bare hand). Then hold the book spine-down on the skillet and peel the cover off that way. This method can burn your book very easy because it's harder to gauge how hot the skillet is. Take your time.

Now that the cover is off, use the same method to remove the pages one by one. Make sure to keep them in the right order. Sometimes there will be a thick glob of binding glue that can be sliced off with the X-acto knife. Watch your fingers.

Scanning loose pages is mindlessly easy and there're ways to make it even more mindless. Tape black paper to the top of your scanner lid and use masking tape to mark where exactly on the bed to put the pages so you can get them all in about the same spot. Makes lining them up later in the digital cleanup stage a piece of piss. Don't be a fool and think to use regular tape or duct tape. Cleaning adhesive off glass is a nightmare.

Time to put on some Zeppelin and zone out for about an hour. Remember your page order.

My setup and the raw scan:

I number my pages how they are in the book with the cover, obi, and inside cover flaps usually being zeroes with a letter following it ("00a-dustjacket-FRONT, 00b-dustjacket-BACK, etc":

Your art program should load in the file as a layer with the file name. Load in about 10 to 20 at a time (if your computer can handle it), line them up, clean the dust, adjust colors, sharpen image, then save them in a new folder separate from the raws. Use the clone tool to clean up dust. If you sharpen the image, remember that less is more.

WHAT TO DO NOW THAT IT'S SCANNED //

Upload it. I put all my (non-doujinshi) scans on Archive.org and include a .PDF of the scanned book with smaller resized pages and a .ZIP of the full size pages as loose files. This is optional, don't feel obligated to do both because it really adds a lot of extra work saving the files in two different sizes. Having the full size files is more valuable than a compressed .PDF, though, if you're unsure about which to go with.

For smaller files (<25mb total as a .PDF or .ZIP) you could put them on Neocities too. Neocities doesn't really like the idea of people using their site as a file sharing host so while I don't really recommend using just Neocities, it's definitely something you could do if coding a website sounds fun to you. Here's the archives page on my NC site for an example of how you could code/organize your own archive, if you wanted: solradguy.neocities.org/archives

If you scan something and wanna get more eyes on it, feel free to slap my @ somewhere on the post or you can email it to me (junkyarddogmkii [at] gmail [dot] com ) and I can reblog it and share it with the lore server crew.

Here's a link to the Guilty Gear scans masterpost: https://solradguy.tumblr.com/post/701138089295364096/comprehensive-guide-to-unofficial-guilty-gear

#textpost #book scanning

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pers-books · 7 months

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60 Years of Doctor Who on iPlayer

To mark the 60th Anniversary of Doctor Who, the BBC is to make over 800 episodes of the series and its spin-offs available on iPlayer.

The episodes will be released on iPlayer from the start of next month, with each one having subtitles, audio description, and sign language available. It will be the biggest collection of Doctor Who ever available on the iPlayer with hundreds of episodes available with multiple accessibility features for the first time.

With the Anniversary Specials due to hit our screens, next month, viewers will have the opportunity to travel back in time with any of the Doctors through the show’s 60-year history with the classic series, as well as explore the vast world of Doctor Who with spin-offs like the Sarah Jane Adventures, Torchwood and Class, or step behind-the-scenes with every episode of Doctor Who Confidential – all available in one place - BBC iPlayer.

With over 800 episodes of Doctor Who programming on iPlayer, Russell T Davies, Showrunner said:

I’d like to thank the BBC for all the hard work, to get this massive back catalogue under one roof, at long last. I'm so excited for new viewers - imagine being 8 years old, spending winter afternoons exploring the 60s, 70s, 80s and beyond. And we’re determined this won't be a dusty museum - we have exciting plans to bring the back catalogue to life, with much more to be revealed!

Dan McGolpin, Director of iPlayer and channels, said:

Doctor Who has captivated countless millions of viewers on the BBC for 60 years and in celebration of this special moment we are bringing classic series to BBC iPlayer for the first time. Fans will be able to enjoy many of the Doctor’s earliest adventures with William Hartnell right through to the very latest series and the soon to be released and tremendously exciting new anniversary specials with David Tennant. We want everyone to be able to enjoy this breath-taking back catalogue, so we are making each episode on iPlayer as accessible as possible, with subtitles, audio description, and sign language all available for the first time.

As the companion to the back catalogue, the BBC will simultaneously launch an extensive online archive from the show’s history at bbc.co.uk/doctorwho, with everything from interviews with cast to written documents, long unheard audio, and behind-the-scenes photos. Together, they tell the story of the ground-breaking series through 60 archive gems for the 60th anniversary.

The archive invites fans to delve even deeper into the show with curated journeys such as the genesis of Doctor Who, where audio from former Head of Drama, Sydney Newman alongside documents with his original handwritten notes guide you through the origins of Doctor Who.

In its beginning stages, this new site will feature curated journeys through the archive to bring the show’s extensive history to life for fans – with items like interviews with cast members, news pieces, audio, imagery, and written documents.

Over time, more content will be added to the archive including a special collection of photos that have been scanned at 8k resolution from an estimated total of 25,000 prints, negatives, slides and digital images, which will give an unprecedented insight into the show with access to all areas throughout the years.

The expanded archive will also feature additional gems from over 100,000 documents, including memos, correspondence, designs, and audience research, alongside orchestral scores of sheet music.

Also being added is a selection of audio clips about Doctor Who, including radio programmes, documentaries, interviews, and music.

BBC iPlayer’s back catalogue and the online archive will launch on 1st November before David Tennant returns as the Fourteenth Doctor for three special 60th-anniversary episodes.

#Doctor Who #BBC iPlayer #60th Anniversary

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afewproblems · 11 months

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WIP Wednesday

I'm actually posting on WIP Wednesday, the stars have finally aligned in my favour!

Thank you to @outpastthebrakers for your tag today and @steves-strapcollection for your multiple tags before - its finally lined up today!!

Here is Part Two of my follow up to this Post (Steddie Breakup) hopefully with a Steddie makeup/fix-it future!

(Also! Important to note, season four - specifically the stuff with Vecna- Never happened in this AU)

***

Two Years later - 1987, Chicago, IL

Steve picks up another box from the back of the beemer. This one has, 'Steve's Obnoxious Hair Care,' neatly printed on the side in bold black sharpie --Steve snorts at the sight and vows to never let Robin help him pack ever again.

He walks up the three flights and through the propped open front door to the two bedroom apartment.

It's small, just barely enough for two people, but in downtown Chicago, it's a steal at the price.

And it's theirs.

"Hey Birdie," Steve calls out from the kitchen, he sets the box down on the counter, turning his head to the left slightly to listen for her shuffling. The dull ringing in his right ear makes it more difficult, present ever since he left his parents house for good.

It had gotten even worse since their Russian encounter, but if he's weighing the pros and the cons of that night, he's glad he got Robin out of the deal.

Steve steps into the living room just off the kitchen, "Robin?"

Bright sunlight streams through the curtainless windows bathing Robin in a warm yellow glow.

She stands in the center, facing Steve, with a pensive expression, her eyes scanning the space around her.

"Hush Dingus," she mutters, holding up her pointer finger to her lips, "I'm visualizing".

"Ah, of course," he concedes with a fond smile as Robin walks towards him slowly counting her steps. She lines her feet up as she moves, touching the toe of her right foot to the heel of her left. She wobbles slightly as she makes it to where Steve is standing, he reaches out to steady her with a laugh.

"I told you the living room was more than ten feet!"

"Robin, do you think that a 'foot' is literally your foot?"

Robin sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes, before plucking the measuring tape from where it was clipped to her back pocket, "you have no concept of joy, you refuse to let me live".

"Yeah, yeah, so hard done by," he snorts as she sticks her tongue out at him and leans down to pick up one of the empty boxes.

She sighs and looks around the space again with a contented expression before looking at Steve, "well, Dingus, I think we did good".

Steve nods and tries to smile back but the expression doesn't quite meet his eyes, Robin tilts her head, turning the box over in her hands at the corners.

"What's wrong?" She says softly, anxiously, her blue eyes dart over his face, "is it a migraine? Do you need your meds?"

Steve shakes his head, wincing before he can stop himself, he knows Robin's brain would come up with the worst case scenario first. And, to be fair to her, she had seen the worst case scenarios and after effects of the Russian interrogation, she'd held his hand after spilling his guts from the nausea and halos in his vision, she'd insisted he buy blackout blinds for his room because, 'you never know when you'll need them Dingus, you won't always get one of these at night'.

Steve shakes his head, "no, it's not a migraine, relax Robs," he huffs as she levels him with a disbelieving stare.

"I just," Steve chews his lip for a moment as he drops his gaze to the floor. Robin steps closer, tilting her head to the side as he struggles to find the words.

"I love that you came with me, that we get to be here, but," Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's longer than it had been two years ago, the gold and copper from his time in the warm summer sun slowly fading back to brown.

"Eddie always talked about leaving Hawkins someday, and I always thought it would be with me".

"This was our plan," he says softly, lifting his eyes to meet Robin's own, her brows pinched in a small frown.

"And I managed to screw that up like everything else," he trails off softly.

***

"I just don't understand why you have to go to this thing, you aren't even interested in his stupid job?" Eddie growls as he tosses the pencil up at his bedroom ceiling, it stays for just a moment before falling back into his waiting hands. Pock marks litter the tile from previous throws and Steve is sure Wayne's told him to knock it off more times than he can count.

"It's complicated," Steve says lowly, he pictures his dad's thunderous face, the same square jaw and straight nose that Steve has, they could be identical but for their ages and the cold grey eyes his father has.

Steve took after his mother in that area, inheriting her large hazel eyes and long lashes.

"No it's not," Eddie says stubbornly, he throws the pencil with more force this time and it hangs in the ceiling between them, "you could tell him to stuff his job up his ass".

"Eddie--"

"No, no, you know we had a show tonight, and you're choosing to go to your dad's fundraiser instead?"

Steve sighs and bites the inside of his cheek, tamping down the urge to argue with his boyfriend.

But, they've never really had this talk before, Steve's never told anyone about his father and his homelife.

Right now he wishes he had.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he huffs as Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, "and not all of us have someone like Wayne to encourage us to do whatever we want".

"That's such bullshit and you know it," Eddie hisses ignoring the slight flinch from Steve, "you always do this".

What?

"You never want to come to our shows, you never want to sit in on Hellfire--"

"That's not true," Steve growls, crossing his arms over his stomach, he hunches in on himself slightly but Eddie shakes his head.

"Yes it is! When was the last time you came to a show?"

Steve wracks his brain, trying to remember the name of the bar they had played at, it wasn’t the Hideaway, it had been a bit of a drive to get there. It was a dive bar that had sounded like it was straight out of Robin Hood, The Red Lion?

"See!" Eddie takes his silence as victory and throws his hands up in the air, "what did I tell you?"

"Jesus, it was a bar show just like all of them Eddie, it's not like you guys were playing on MTV or something," Steve snaps, the last threads of his patience wearing thinner and thinner.

"Oh fuck off, MTV is part of the problem, do you not listen when I talk?"

"I always listen to you!" Steve cries out, his voice climbs in volume and his hands shake as adrenaline spikes, "sometimes you just talk and talk and talk and you say nothing important but I always listen to you!"

"Woooow, fuck you," Eddie scoffs as he turns on his heel and opens his bedroom door, Steve follows him, fuming but wary.

"Since everything I say is bullshit, apparently, and you don't want to come to our shows or spend time with me then maybe you should just go!"

Steve halts in his tracks.

Eddie stands by the open front door to the trailer, his cheeks are red and his mouth is a flat line carved in the middle of his face.

Steve feels his heart rate tick up as he stands there frozen.

They've had disagreements before, small petty arguments but this feels big. Much bigger than any fight they've ever had.

"Eddie-"

"Nope, unless you tell me you're coming tonight, we're done".

Oh.

And just like that, it hurts just as much as when Nancy had told him she didn't love him the previous year. It's too much, he needs to leave.

"Yeah, you know what Eddie, I don't need this," Steve says so softly that Eddie leans forward to hear before reeling back as though struck, "I don't," he shakes his head and walks past Eddle towards the open door.

Eddie's hands twitch as though he wants to reach out to Steve, to pull him back into the trailer, but they remain at his sides.

"You're right," Eddie yells after him as Steve walks down the gravel drive to his car, "you don't need us, we don't need you, go crawling back to daddy just like always".

Steve stops walking and looks back at Eddie. The metal-head's wide brown eyes are shiny with angry tears.

Steve feels his own angry tears pooling along his lash line.

He gets in the car and drives away, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he heads home.

***

"Okay, first of all," Robin says sharply as she drops the box at their feet and pokes him in the chest with a rigid pointer finger, "you're damn right you're happy I came with you, I am a catch!"

Steve rolls his eyes as Robin clears her throat imperiously until he raises his hands in surrender.

"Second, he found out about your dads shit, saw you beaten to hell and back, and didn't even want to have a conversation? Fuck that noise".

"Birdy, you weren't there, and you don't even know Eddie--"

"I know you though," she continues, staring him down, "and I know if the roles were reversed, you would have at least heard him out".

Steve holds back a wince, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. He knows she isn’t right, he knows he made a mistake that night walking away, they should have talked, they should have had it out.

Steve should have told Eddie the truth.

Then again, Eddie dropped him like it was nothing so maybe he was better off in the long run.

Strangely enough this thought doesn’t make him feel better.

"Robin," Steve sighs wearily, crossing to the wall of the living room before leaning his back against it to slide down to the floor.

"Tell me I'm wrong," she says softly, walking towards his spot on the floor, she settles beside him and nudges his shoulder with her own.

"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll drop it," she says again, firmly this time.

Steve breathes out a sigh and brings his knees to his chest, looking towards the window.

The view isn't much, just the street and other buildings, but the Chicago skyline seems to stretch for miles ahead of them.

"You’re not wrong," he says eventually, ignoring the crow of triumph Robin makes, "but you're not right either".

She scoffs and leans her head against his shoulder, the soft waves of her hair tickle the skin on his bare arm but the weight and warmth of her is comforting.

"Besides, it was years ago," Steve mutters, "I'm sure he's forgotten all about me by now".

tagging: @strangersteddierthings @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @steddie-there @henderdads and anyone else that would like to participate! (Please tag me with your wonderful creations! Also I apologize if you've already been tagged - feel free to ignore this!)

#steddie #wip wednesday #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #afewproblems writes #steddie breakup #steddie slowburn makeup #lets go get these boys back together people #I can't not write platonic stobin now #how can I write steve without his robin #thats right I cant

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