#first one just a casual pic (i like the pose) then second is the shoot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevenbasic · 4 years ago

Photo

“Oooo look at that one! And ahahah that one!” she sang, as we sat next to one another on the empty beach, “They look the same! You’re really just as good as any of the photographers I used to work with!”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I replied, trying to keep the silly delight I was feeling, being lauded by Melissa, out of my voice, “i-it’s probably just these better cameras, on these phones, these days…”

“No, no, you’re really good!!” she flattered, scooching herself closer to me. We had been sitting like this, next to one another on her towel in the sand, all alone, for a while now. We were going through the pictures of the day, the little “modeling shoot” she’d asked me to do for her, this afternoon after our morning classes at the conference. She was flipping through them on my phone - which she insisted we use - in trying to duplicate some of the shots she’d done at a photoshoot on this same exact beach, this little nature reserve, six or so years ago. Or was it two, or three? I had trouble pinning her down, on that one. Anyway, she wanted to put the pictures up on Instagram, she said, for a joke. Melissa had tossed the gauzy tapestry of her sarong over our heads, to keep us shielded from the late afternoon sun and able to more easily see the pictures on my phone's meager screen. The moment, thus, was intimate, the space between us tight...

“C’mon…” I deferred. It was disconcerting, how excited I was by her plaudits, how eager I was for her praise, even if it was just for my photography skills. We had been so friendly, here, all alone on our basically private beach over these past few hours. With no one else around, I had no airs to keep up, no appearances to maintain, and my guard had come down without a fight. I had allowed myself to both relax and give in too easily and too fully to the temptations of her flirty friendship. “I’m no photographer, really…you’re obviously just a really good model...”

“Ahhh, I was never really a ‘model’,” she deferred, “just a girl with the boobs some energy drink company wanted in their ads. But thank you...” She giggled, and nudged me with her bare shoulder. “...and you should learn how to take a compliment,” she told me.

My heart fluttered.

I also can’t begin to tell you how fucking turned on I was. I’d just spent the better part of the afternoon following her around as she posed here, posed there, once in a while disappearing behind boulders or bushes to change in and out of multiple swimsuits for this, our ersatz modeling session, trying to duplicate the last time she was here. “Before” pictures stored on her phone, “After” now on mine…

I must have looked like an overeager simp, a wide-eyed supplicant, when she - with demure giggles - had initially peeled off her beach dress to reveal her first bikini, a little, overmatched yellow thing, and asked me to start snapping.

She had framed it as a chance to see if she still “had it”, now that she wasn’t nineteen years old. Oh, she had it, I’d quickly and convincingly been shown, and in spades. In fact, the afternoon quickly became a study in how much bigger her tits had grown over the last few years, how much more Melissa there was everywhere, what kind of womanly body she was - if she's to be believed, god help me - still growing into. Our first looks, comparisons of the previous shots to today’s, were ample demonstration of that - it actually made her laugh: “Omigod I look huge in that one!!” or “I’m like twice the size I was then!!” To her it was a joke but in all honesty it actually was quite dramatic, sitting here with her now, looking at these pictures.

It was also quite dramatic how soft her skin felt.

She was leaned into me, under the canopy of her sarong, the skin and supple flesh of her bare left arm, shoulder, hip, thigh pressed abundantly against my sallow side. The day had cooled as evening approached, and her warmth was pleasant, the scent of her beach-sweetened body saturating our little space with its luxurious richness. My view - even notwithstanding the bikini pics - was equally enthralling. She had changed, after our shoot was done, back into her burgundy suit, because I had told her - when asked, pressed on the matter - that it was “my favorite”. So now our private world under the shade and shelter of her skirt was filled with her lap, her hair, her big, soft breasts in her string bikini. Sunlight dappled in, shadows emphasizing everything.

I was so fucking hard.

“I, uh, did take photography in college…” I conceded, bathing still in her praises and painfully aware of my erection, which was nearly a third person in our little makeshift tent.

“Seeee??” she squealed, bumping me with her shapely hip, “I knew it! You were so good, too, making me feel comfortable, like a real professional.” She flipped to another photo, nonchalantly zoomed in on a little detail...

“How do I always seem to manage to get sand on my boob..?” she asked, more to herself in an aside. If she heard me chuckle I’m lucky; I was worried it sounded like a whine.

“It is a little weird traipsing around in front of your boss in a bikini,” she said, now casually flipping to the next picture, “but you were such a gentleman.”

Ha - ‘gentleman’. If only she knew the battle I’d been fighting all afternoon, trying to keep my composure, trying to look at ease as she giggled and bounced and posed, rolling in the sand, playing in the surf, smiling - or seething - for the camera.

I saw sides of Melissa I’d only seen in the countless images of her I’d surreptitiously collected on my pc at work, from her Instagram, ones I’d scoured from the net. But here, in person, in the flesh, she looked bigger and more voluptuous than ever, and it had been all I could do to keep from outright groaning at times, when she would emerge from behind a bush, or a boulder on the beach, in a new bikini or one-piece. I might be kidding myself but I hope I made it look like I was keeping my cool and snapped pic after glorious pic. I was doing the best I could but in the end I knew I was not made for this; my heart is too weak and I was honestly afraid I might pass out.

And these photos are all on my phone, I thought to myself, in a lurid anticipation.

“Well, you really look beautiful, in all of them,” I said, nodding but immediately knowing I’d said someth-

“Oh my god thank you!!” Melissa gushed, turning my way in our little shelter and dropping the phone, forgotten, onto our towel. “You are so nice, so great..!”

My heart nearly stopped as I looked at her, our faces inches away. Eyes made up, makeup heavy and dramatic for the camera. Her hair a huge soft mess of deep brown abundance, her dimpled smile and perfect cheekbones riveting and...

Fuck. She is so fucking gorgeous.

“Uh…”

She inched in closer.

Omigod is she going to..?

“I could just kiss you right now!” she laughed, her smile growing wide and her eyes dancing, playing over my face and then flashing as she read my reaction, the moment between us suddenly wired, charged.

I can’t let this explode, I can’t I can’t I c-

“I-it’s true…” I mumbled, dropping my gaze away from hers back to the phone, laying beneath her thighs. I knew I should stop, stop. “I m-mean...the pictures came out g-great…”

Looking down, my eyes could not help but be drawn to her great breast, tanned and huge and swollen in her taut burgundy bikini, stray grains of sand the only imperfection on the smooth expanse of its skin. She was for the moment quiet, and breathing. Oh god I just stared.

“D-Doctor J..?” she finally began, her voice dropping, cracking, sounding - for the first time - like she was unsure of something, “Do you like spending time with me?”

Oh jesus.

“Y-y-yes, of course,” I replied, unsure of what to do.

“Okay...okay,” she continued, her voice still shaky. She was obviously trying to gather herself. “I was worried that I was maybe being too...pushy, that maybe you didn’t really want…”

Her words trailed off, and I could feel her looking at me, watching my face. I hoped to god she couldn’t tell that I was just staring at the swell of her big left breast, that rather she took the downturn of my gaze as just an inability to hold hers.

“N-no, really, it’s...fun. Y-you’re fun,” I said, dumbly, too meek of course to tell her that every moment with her had been like a fantasy come true, that I would kill to spend every last second of mine just staring at her, ogling her, my only air the tanning oil and perfume from her skin of this moment right now.

I had to hold my tongue, before saying anything else stupid.

“We do have fun together, don’t we?” she continued, her voice dropping, familiar, “it’s been great, down here, watching you relax.” The slow, rhythmic burgeoning of her chest, how each of her strong breaths inflated her breasts into the tautness of her swimsuit, soft flesh bulging against its confines, had me hypnotized. “I like seeing you loosen up, enjoy yourself. I like seeing you have fun. I like helping you do that. In fact...I guess I should tell you. I have a little surprise for you…” she said.

“A...a surprise?” I asked, witless at this point, eased into a tranquility of sorts by the closeness of her body, by her calm, even voice.

“MmHmm...a surprise,” she answered, gentle giggles sending jiggles through her boobs, “you lucky boy, you get another two days down here. You needed a break, you needed to relax, so I had Randi change flights for us, get another couple days away, another two days of vacation…”

“T-t-two days?” I asked, suddenly confused. I was going to...what? Be away another two days from the office? But the conference would be over, everyone else long gone. Except...wait. “Y-you too?” I asked, eyes up to meet hers for the moment, “You’re staying too?”

“Of course…” she purred, watching my eyes drop again, seeing my anxiety quickly assuaged, “If that’s alright? We can stay longer, just you and me. So we can relax, maybe talk about some of the stuff I learned, changes we can make in the office. Is that okay?”

“Uhhh…” I began, as the complications started to rise in my head. There were patients to be seen, things to do, and then there was-

“I already okayed it with Sheryl,” she answered, as if reading my thoughts, “And we moved your patients. We took care of everything. It’ll all be fine, it’ll be so nice…”

“Y-yeah…” I replied, apparently agreeing to all this. Two more days? Just with Melissa? With Melissa, the beach, and her...her...

”Good..!” she chirped, jiggles again through her chest, “because I wayyyy overpacked. I have so many outfits I haven’t been able to wear yet...” Casually, she brushed a few grains of sand off her left breast, sending more seismic ripples through her tit. “And now I get to wear them just... for... you!”

She booped me on the nose.

She booped me on the nose?

<giggle!>

I looked back up at her for a second, then down again, my eyes once more drawn helplessly back, surreptitiously askance, by the gravity of her breast. My view settled; I’d never seen those little freckles before, emerging from her tan.

“Do you want to look at any more pictures?” she asked, softly, obligingly. My phone, with our photoshoot, laid forgotten under her.

“n-n-no...thank you...” I squeaked, eyes now absolutely plastered on her breasts. Somehow I still held onto the hope that she didn’t realize I was all but outright gawping at her tits. Her cleavage was incredible, her big breasts squashed just enough between her arms to make them swell voluptuously together. I imagined, right then and there, what it must be like to slip in between them, slide into there, disappear, live in there, lost in her abundance...

”So we’ll leave late on Sunday morning, instead of early Friday,” she began again, satisfied, “Randi moved our flight to Sunday morning at 11:15. We’ll get a taxi from the lobby at nine, so you’ll need to be packed by…”

She paused.

“Dr J?” she asked, “Were you listening to me?”

”w-w-what?” I stammered, as my gaze shot back up.

”I said...were you listening to me?” Her eyes bore into mine, sternly.

”y-yeah...I was listening?” I felt like a schoolchild, caught daydreaming in class by his teacher. His huge, supermodel teacher with the ginormous tits.

“Really? You were listening?” Melissa retorted, the smile cracking her cheeks disbelieving me already, “Or were you just lost in my boobs?”

Suddenly, she tossed her sarong, our shelter from the sun aside. My eyes were assaulted by the late afternoon sun; I squinted, shied back. Aside me, she sat up straighter.

!!!

I was gaping, speechless as Melissa looked down at me, brow arched in already-final judgement. “Hmmm?” she hmmmd, “Were you? Anything to say?”

My mouth was open, my jaw slack, but I had no words.

Firmly, she trapped my chin in her hand and - looking me straight in the eye, began to nod my head for me. “ ‘Yes...yes I was Melissa…’” she said, dropping her voice two octaves and moving my jaw like a marionette dummy, speaking for me, imitating me with the voice of a doofus, “‘I was looking at your boobs…’ ”

“N-No! Really I w-w-wasn’t…!” I pleaded, as she already began to laugh, releasing my chin. I was flushing hard, my heart and stomach having dropped themselves onto the sand, out of my body. “Please, Melissa, I was just-“

“Haha omigod don’t be embarrassed! I’m joking!” she laughed, reaching her hands behind her to gather her hair - and of course casually present her magnificent chest, “I know they’re totally a distraction. Kinda hard to ignore.” My eyes flitted between her face - keeping eye contact - and her chest - trying not to ogle. What did she want me to do?!? “And you’ve been such a gentleman, doing your best not to, like, stare all afternoon.”

Oh, if she only knew...

“uh no, I uh…” Holy shit this was terribly humiliating.

”Shh it’s okay, you’ve been a good boy, you’ve earned it, taking all these pictures for me...,” she laughed, tossing her hair out again, in a voluminous wave behind her back, “stare all you want..!”

“oh my god…” I groaned, writhing in silent humiliation, overwhelmed by the indignity of the moment, and trying to look anywhere but at her chest.

To that, she just laughed. “Oh shush,” she insisted, “We both know you’re married, you and I both respect that.” She reached out to push a stray lock of hair, windswept, off my forehead. “But I know you’re just a man, and they’re boobs. It’s just a natural impulse.” She smiled at me, munificently. “So it’s okay, really…it happens all the time.”

“B-b-b-but, Melissa…” I began, stammering. I needed to...I dunno! Tell her I was...better than that!

“Are you just not used to being with girls in bikinis, is that it?” she asked

“Uhhhh…” what?? “M-maybe…?” I answered, my voice trailing off.

”Omigod look how embarrassed you are!” she cooed, “That's sooo cute!”

”No, r-really, M-Melissa, I, uhhhh…”

”Shhhhhh...it’s okay, really, I’m used to it” she said, her voice reaching out to soothe me, her eyes drawing me to her in their own embrace, “You don’t have to be a gentleman all the time…”

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I had a lot of help on this one, from readers here at tumblr to my normal supercharged band of miscreants (DB20, Beetle, Antares). And huge props out to the morphers whose original images I used - MagicGrowthHormone, Stella5945 and @iphotoshopu..I hope I'm not missing anyone.

#Growing Into the Job

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flightfoot · 5 years ago

Text

Divergent Points - Reflekdoll

AO3/FFN

Thanks to @galahadwilder for idea bouncing!

Oh yeah, this is a bit late, but I figure @alya-appreciation-week might appreciate this with the Kwami Swap. Because Ladybug!Alya and Black Cat!Nino are awesome.

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Alya grinned. Marinette may no longer need help finding opportunities to hang out with Adrien (as Chat Noir at least), nor to push her to get closer to him, but still, any opportunity that Marinette and Adrien had to really spend time with each other as civilians was something to treasure. And getting to participate in a group activity? Even better.

Adrien and Marinette talking with each other about fashion, giving tips, making jokes, really just having a conversation without any stress or anxiety? Not something she’d have thought was possible even a month ago. Finding out that Adrien was Chat Noir really let her relax around him.

Of course the rest of the class had noticed, and many of them were suspicious, but they’d deflected it as best they could. They’d considered telling the rest of the class about Marinette and Adrien dating, but had eventually decided against it. Most of them would be thrilled, but between Chloe potentially lashing out at Marinette if she discovered that Adrien had fallen for her and the ambiguous threat that Lila represented? It wasn’t worth it.

Time to film the main model!

She turned her phone from Adrien and Marinette towards Juleka. She wasn’t filming yet, but if there was one thing she’d learned from running the Ladyblog, it was to always be ready to press that record button.

“How about a little smile for the camera, Juleka?”

Juleka looked up, mumbling something quietly, barely coherently. It sounded like “I don’t think this is such a good idea guys?” With the way her words were blending together, it was hard to tell.

Juleka had been the one to put herself forward as a model earlier, but now she seemed weirdly freaked out. But this wasn’t like Marinette’s freak outs. Those tended to be a lot louder and more obvious, and a lot easier to pinpoint the cause of (Adrien. Almost always Adrien).

By contrast, Juleka seemed a lot more restrained, but in a way that was even more worrying. With Marinette she knew what was going on. With Juleka, she just kinda appeared freaked out and barely responsive, looking down at the ground, eyes darting around, mumbling, and with not being able to hear her really well, she wasn’t even sure what the issue was, much less how to fix it.

Marinette walked over to Juleka, holding onto her shoulders and talking to her comfortingly. Alya relaxed slightly. She wasn’t sure what to do, but Marinette was pretty talented. Maybe she’d be able to help Juleka through… whatever was going on?

She frowned. Juleka was hyperventilating now, even with Marinette there with her.

Hm. 11:30. They didn’t have long before Adrien would have to leave to go have lunch with his father. Whatever they did, they’d have to do soon.

Marinette spoke soothingly to Juleka. “It was great of you to volunteer to model for me, but I can tell you’re not feeling that comfortable about it. Would you prefer if someone stood in for you? These are my designs, I really should model them myself…”

If someone stood in for-

Oh.

OH.

This was perfect!

Adrien was already a model, and Marinette’s designs were unisex, fitting both men and women and looking good on them too. And, naturally, she already had versions on hand that were the right size for both herself and Adrien. (Come on, like she WOULDN’T design clothes in her kitty’s size).

It would be perfect for showing off Marinette’s range for her website!

…Okay so the main reason was because she’d get some matching clothing couple pics out of it. So sue her, they were cute together.

She was still waiting for the day they would get their first hamster together. She wasn’t sure who would be most likely to die of cuteness overload first, Marinette when cooing over the hamster, Adrien for cooing over the hamster AND how cute Marinette was, or herself for cooing over the cuteness of all of them.

Oh who was she kidding, it would be Adrien. The boy was such a smitten kitten.

Wait, what was she thinking about?

Oh yeah. New models for the photoshoot!

“Of course! Awesome idea Marinette!”

Alya grabbed Marinette and yanked her over next to Adrien, positioning them close enough to both be in frame of a potential camera. “If we want to show off how truly awesome this design is for both boys and girls, it’d be best to have the photoshoot with both a girl and a guy! You in Adrien?”

He shrugged. “If it helps. Could be fun! A lot more interesting than my regular photoshoots at least.”

“Perfect! Give Marinette your suit Juleka.”

She didn’t wait for a response, already grabbing the hat off of Juleka’s head and pushing Marinette and Adrien towards two shades they’d set up for any outfit changes.

This was going to be SO. COOL. Even better than the original plan!

The two of them emerged minutes later. She wasn’t surprised that Adrien was so fast at changing, he certainly had enough experience. Marinette was a bit more of a surprise, but she was used to acting fast, so maybe it wasn’t TOO surprising. Plus she was intimately familiar with the outfit and the accessories, which probably helped with the changing speed.

They looked so awesome! With the simple dark blue shirt with black stripes, the outfits were well-suited for casual wear, but the pop of color from the red berets and the addition of the rings and clip-on earrings added some extra interest that took the outfits to the next level!

Wait… rings and earrings…

She glanced at Adrien’s hand and at Marinette’s ears. Both of them were wearing the accessories for the outfit rather than their Miraculous.

She pulled them aside quickly.

“Adrien? Marinette? Where are your Miraculous?”

They both looked slightly uncomfortable, patting their bags.

Ok. So they weren’t wearing them right now, but they were close by. This would be fine. It was only going to be for a little bit, less than an hour. Surely Hawkmoth wouldn’t attack during this tiny little window of time.

Right?

…Maybe she should call for back-up. You know, just in case.

She sent off a quick text to Nino, asking him to meet up with her and the others at Marinette’s house. If there was an emergency, she knew she could count on him.

“Ok, let’s do this quickly before Adrien has to go back.”

They tried a few different positions in the room, but unfortunately-

Alya frowned. “Marinette, I don’t think your room has the best lighting for this. It’s a little too dim.”

Hm. It would mean more of a delay, but- “Maybe we should go outside? It’ll be brighter out there, and the background will be more appealing. Plus there’ll be more room for different shots.”

Alya following Marinette’s gaze as she glanced over at Juleka. She looked better now – well at least she wasn’t hyperventilating or mumbling. Slightly downcast maybe? But at least she didn’t seem ready to collapse to the ground.

The group started heading downstairs. Well, all except for one.

Juleka shook her head. “I’d rather not come.”

Rose looked put-out. “What? Why not?”

Juleka turned away from everyone. “It’s nothing, I just…”

Alya frowned as she checked the time, missing the rest of what Juleka mumbled. “We’ve got to head out now if we’re gonna do this, we only have thirty minutes left!”

Marinette called up to Juleka, looking uncertain. “Well, if you’re sure. Feel free to make yourself at home, we’ll be back soon.”

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Nino met up with them on the ground floor. Marinette living so close to Francois-Dupont definitely came in handy sometimes.

“What’s going on dudes?”

Alya smiled. Seeing Nino never failed to lift her spirits. “There’s been a change of plans, we’re heading outside for the photoshoot. You up for it?”

He blinked. “Sure. Where to?”

He looked around. “And where’s Juleka?”

“She said she wanted to stay behind.”

Nino frowned. “Is she okay?”

“She said it was nothing.”

Nino glanced up at the top floor, where Marinette’s bedroom – and Juleka – were, but didn’t say anything.

“We can talk to her later if you want,” Alya suggested, “but we’re on a time crunch here.”

Nino hesitated, seeming conflicted. Finally he gave in. “Ok, where’re we going? And how’re we getting there?”

Adrien perked up. “I can take care of that!”

A few moments later, they were all squeezed into the backseat of the Agreste family car. Or, well, one of them. Alya hadn’t exactly kept track. Surely they had a second one in case Gabriel needed to go somewhere?

…Then again, Gabriel almost never left the house.

Alya had… OPINIONS on Gabriel. Between what Adrien had told her and the others a few weeks ago during the Chameleon incident, and what she knew from personal experience… well, most of what she had to say about him couldn’t be spoken of in polite company.

At least Marinette’s family had practically adopted Chat Noir. Adrien had seemed a lot happier and well-assured these past three weeks. She wished that Adrien could just move in with them already, but Nathalie would probably notice that.

She bet that if it was just Gabriel they could manage it though. For a guy who never left home, he sure didn’t spend much time with his son. Though that might be a blessing in disguise.

At least Adrien had Gorilla when he was at the manor. The man wasn’t exactly talkative, but he clearly cared for Adrien and gave him more slack than anyone else did.

Speaking of which…

The car halted. It was fortunate the school, Marinette’s house, and the Eiffel Tower were so close together, or they wouldn’t have had a prayer of finishing this within the time frame.

It wasn’t long before they had everything set up for the shoot. Marinette and Adrien had a few nice poses – nothing too coupley sadly, they had to keep that on the down-low for now. But still really nice pics that showed off the clothes well.

Then the giant Reflekta doll robot stomped into view.

Well, crap.

“Hello, my friends,” she heard Juleka’s voice call out bitterly. “I’ve got something special for your video.”

…And there were the giant laser beams. Welp, typical Tuesday she guessed.

She was more concerned with what was going on with Juleka. She’d seemed a little off when they left, but badly enough to get akumatized?

A small nagging feeling built in her stomach. Juleka’d been freaking out and hyperventilating, she KNEW that, she’d just… well she didn’t know why or how to help, so she’d just… brushed it off. And Juleka had seemed a little downcast when they left, but she’d been so focused on her whole “get Adrien and Marinette in cute matching outfits” crusade, she’d just… brushed right past any niggling feeling she had that something was wrong.

“I’m sorry Juleka, I should’ve stayed with you!” Rose cried, looking distraught.

“I am not Juleka, I’m Reflekta.” The giant Reflekta-bot fired a laser at Rose, which she barely managed to dodge in time. “Everyone always forgot about Juleka anyway.”

The nagging feeling deepened into guilt. Because yes, Alya HAD forgotten about Juleka. She hadn’t meant to hurt her, hadn’t been malicious at all! She just… just hadn’t given her much thought.

Marinette, Adrien, and Nino may be her closest friends, but that didn’t mean that she should forget about her other friends when they needed help.

Glancing quickly around, she saw Marinette and Adrien quickly dash towards some concealed spots.

Perfect! They’d transform soon and-

OH DOUBLE CRAP.

SHE KNEW THEM TAKING OFF THEIR MIRACULOUS WAS A BAD IDEA.

Okay, okay, so Juleka had been transformed into Reflekta again, this time with a giant mech to help her, and Ladybug and Chat Noir couldn’t transform.

Well today was just peachy, wasn’t it?

Ok good. They were heading towards the car now.

Aaaaand the Reflekmech was turning around to face them.

Maybe she should just stop thinking optimistic thoughts. The universe wasn’t looking kindly on tempting fate today.

They dove behind the car.

“You stole my limelight, Marinette,” Reflekta snarled. “I was supposed to be the star of the photoshoot!”

No. Marinette didn’t do that.

She had.

She’d gotten an idea in her head about what she wanted to happen, and she’d brushed aside any obstacle to getting it done.

Obstacles including Juleka.

Heck, she’d taken the hat right off of Juleka’s head, barely even looking at her as she did it!

Alya’d always known she had a bit of a one-track mind, but seeing the negative results of that so clearly displayed…

How many other people had she accidentally hurt in her overeagerness?

“But- you told me you didn’t want to!” Marinette shouted at Reflekta, indignant.

“You didn’t let me explain,” Reflekta told Marinette. Then she blasted her with a Reflekt laser, turning her into a Reflekta clone.

How many times could Murphy’s Law activate over the course of two minutes? Because this was getting ridiculous.

“Ha! Maybe you’ll understand me better now that you’re in MY shoes!”

Honestly, if she thought it would help, Alya would stand in the way of a beam herself. She still didn’t quite understand what was going on with Juleka, but with the hints that she HAD gotten? She wanted to learn more. To figure out just what she’d done wrong, and how to do it right next time.

Adrien tried to open the trunk, to no avail. Of course not, like Gorilla would be incompetent enough to leave it unlocked. She guessed that Adrien hadn’t had to get a lot of things out of the trunk himself though, so it was understandable that he didn’t know.

Oh. And now the Reflekmech had picked up the car with the Miraculous, thrown it, and Reflekta’d Adrien. She supposed that might as well happen at this point.

This was so much less nervewracking back in the days when she had Ladybug and Chat Noir on pedestals as invincible superheroes, and didn’t realize that they were just kids like herself.

Ok. What could she do to help?

“Alya!” Nino shouted.

She startled. With how hard she was concentrating on Adrien and Marinette, along with thinking about her own role in this akumatization, she’d completely forgotten that she’d asked him to come just in case something like this happened.

He hurried over to her. “What do you think we should-“

A beam of light interrupted his sentence. Two seconds later, both of them were a lot more pink and in far less practical shoes than they were before.

Juuuuust great.

At least they kept their own voices. It’d be a nightmare telling people apart otherwise.

“For now? Run!”

She took him by the hand as they bolted, trying to help keep him moving without stumbling. She was decent at running in heels – they weren’t exactly her favorite kind of shoes to wear, but she had some experience at least. Nino had none.

Get away from akuma now, plan later. Maybe try to find the Miraculous and Adrien and Marinette? That was less of a “plan” and more of an “aspiration” though.

“Ladybug? Ladybug?” She heard a familiar voice call out faintly.

She froze, causing Nino to bump into her. “Why did you-“

She put her fingers to her lips, silencing him. Looking up, she scanned the sky.

A small red-and-black blur darted around.

“Tikki?” she called out, wanting to attract her attention, but no one else’s.

Hordes more people ran past her screaming.

…She probably didn’t need to worry about that too much, come to think of it. There was a bit of a distraction going on already.

Tikki flew over to them. “Alya?”

She nodded.

“Nino?” she asked, looking to her side.

He nodded as well.

“Where’s Plagg?” he asked.

“Still trying to find Chat Noir. I’ve been trying to find Ladybug, but…” her antenna drooped.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Alya told her, “I’m sure you’ll find her eventually.”

The bug kwami perked up, eyes widening.

Ooh. Alya knew that face. That was the ‘I’ve got a brilliant idea’ face.

“Alya, how would you feel about being Ladybug?”

Her?

Be Ladybug?

She’d be lying if she said it’d never crossed her mind. Heck, after finding out that Marinette had wanted her to be Ladybug, that she’d even tried to give her the Miraculous because she believed she’d be a better Ladybug than her? Alya’d daydreamed about it for weeks, what might have been.

Not that Alya was unhappy with the way things had turned out – Marinette was a BRILLIANT Ladybug, she doubted that anyone else could make use of it the way she did – but it made a girl wonder.

She reached out eagerly for the Miraculous… and hesitated.

Back when she’d first transformed into Rena Rouge, she’d nearly let her ambition and desire to be a superhero override the promise she’d made to Ladybug. Her promise won out, but it’d taken a little pushing from Trixx.

Was she making the same mistake, letting her desire to be Ladybug, something she’d dreamt of since the superhero had first appeared all those months ago, override what was right?

“…Are you sure?” she asked. “This whole mess was partly my fault to begin with. Whatever was going on with Juleka, I should’ve stayed and listened, but I got so caught up in my own idea for the photoshoot I just… sorta ignored her.”

Tikki smiled at her. “You made a mistake. That’s okay, Alya. Just apologize once we fix this and be a little more careful next time.”

She bit her lip. “Are you sure I can do this though? Ladybug’s always coming up with all these crazy plans. My mind doesn’t work the way hers does.”

The little bug flew up close to Alya. “Remember what she told you before? You might not be able to do things the way she does, but you can do them the way YOU do. I’ve had lots of different Ladybug, each one different. You can do this.”

“She’s right,” Nino spoke up. “You might not come up with the super complicated plans that Ladybug does, but you can do them your own way. You’ve got this.”

She smiled at Nino and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. It was a little weird with them both still being Reflekta clones, but they made it work.

Taking a deep breath, she held out her hand. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Tikki dropped the earrings into her hand. Automatically they turned from the spotted earrings she knew, to solid orange ones.

Ah. Camouflage mode at work. Not a huge surprise they were orange for her, since that was her favorite color.

She went to put them on… and paused.

“Uh… Tikki?” she said. “My ears aren’t pierced. Or Reflekta’s, for that matter.”

“No problem!” she said cheerfully. “Marinette’s aren’t either.”

RECORD SCREECH.

“WHAT?!”

“Shh!” Nino pushed Alya around the corner, trying to keep her out of sight.

A group of Reflekta’d people looked around, trying to find out where the shouting was coming from.

Luckily Reflekmech started stomping their way, so they booked it pretty hastily.

Yay for giant robots bearing down on them?

“The earrings magically pierce the wielder’s ears when you try to put them on, and unpierce them when you take them off,” Tikki hissed. “All the piercing Miraculous are like that.”

Seriously?

Wait…

“Other piercing Miraculous? There are MORE?!”

“Ah, well, you know…” Tikki shook herself. “Never mind that, we have other things to worry about!”

Alya gave Tikki a searching look. “You’re right. Don’t think I’ll just forget about the other Miraculous though, I AM going to ask more about them later.”

Tikki looked away.

Alya looked at the Miraculous quizzically. “So I just hold them up to my ears…?”

Tikki looked back at her, nodding happily. Alya got the distinct feeling she was thrilled with the subject change. “Just pretend you’re putting on normal earrings, the Miraculous will do the rest.”

Well she’d never done that before, but maybe intention was good enough?

She moved one to her ear lobe, squeezing her eyes shut.

Then, it was in.

Eyes widening, she felt the earring.

There it was, secured like a perfectly normal earring. At least so it seemed, until she felt around it and noticed that there was no “hole” exactly, that it was sticking out of. It was almost like it phased through her ear.

Hm. Maybe it was related to how Kwamis could phase through things? She’d seen Tikki do that back when Marinette first met her.

Focus, Alya. Investigate Miraculous later, defeat akuma now!

Putting the other earring in (and honestly it was still weird how it DIDN’T feel weird to do that) she took a deep breath, looking to Nino and Tikki for encouragement.

They both grinned and nodded, Nino giving her a thumbs up as well.

Okay. Time to do this.

“Tikki, SPOTS ON!”

She shivered for a moment as the pink light rushed over her.

Blinking, she looked at her hands.

Red and black spots.

Her heart pounded.

She was Ladybug!

Or rather…

She looked back at Nino, staring at her with awe and pride (not that unusual to see from him, but it made her heart skip every time).

She smiled back at him. “Time to introduce Paris to Marybug!”

Nino gaped. “Wait, what?!”

Alya smiled. “What, did you think I hadn’t picked out a name already? Even before I knew what – and who – Ladybug and Chat Noir actually were, I daydreamed about being in their shoes. And finding out that I was almost the Ladybug Miraculous Wielder – well, I was going to at least consider what I could’ve named myself.”

Nino shook his head. “Yes, but – Marybug? That sounds way too similar to ‘Maribug’, aren’t you worried someone might draw the connection?”

She laughed. “That’s what makes the name so perfect! See, here’s the thing – it actually makes sense when researched, and I assure you, the Ladyblog is gonna have a front page article about this in the next few days. It turns out, that the ‘Lady’ in ‘Ladybug’, is actually supposed to be the Virgin Mary. So it’s just replacing ‘Lady’ with ‘Mary’. And if it just so happens that it sounds like ‘Maribug’, and Chat ever slips up and starts to call Ladybug ‘Mari’ or ‘Maribug’ or anything like that, well… it’ll be embarrassing that he almost called his partner by the name of a different Ladybug Miraculous wielder, but that’ll be all.”

Nino chuckled. “Should’ve known you had a plan with that name.”

She smirked. “…Also, it’s just a fun little reference”.

Throwing her yo-yo, she swung away, ready to make her (second) superhero debut.

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

This was a goddamn MESS.

At least most civilians had already fled. (Though it took a little longer than usual. Those heels were hard enough to WALK in, running in them when you had no prior experience with the giant hat thing unbalancing you? No thanks.)

So. Yo-yo. She’d practiced a little with a toy one she’d bought, imagining what it’d be like to swing on one, so she had a teeny bit of experience? She guessed?

Well at least she was an expert on the moves Ladybug used. Even Adrien probably hadn’t studied them in as much detail.

Hm. Competition for later maybe?

FOCUS, MARYBUG. FOCUS.

She shook her head.

Ok. What first?

Maybe try to contain it? It was bad enough running rampant over here, best to stop it from leveling more residential buildings.

She flung her yo-yo at the Eiffel Tower and some nearby lightpoles, creating a makeshift fence.

Downside: the lightpoles were too flimsy and she’d aimed too low to make an effective fence. It tore the lightpoles right out of the ground.

Upside: It tripped.

The mech crashed, Reflekta’s startled scream ringing out.

Yes! Point one for Marybug!

Leaping down, she ran at her downed foe. If Reflekta was controlling the doll, maybe removing her would stop it?

She pulled back to throw her yo-yo, and barely dodged the beam from the Reflekta robot’s eyes.

Oh, right. It could still do that. That was bad.

So just sending the robot crashing to the ground was out. That HELPED, it stopped it from moving around as much and restricted its range of attack, but she still couldn’t actually stop it from attacking, and she couldn’t get Reflekta out that way.

And if getting Reflekta out didn’t stop this robot… what then?

Lucky Charm? This was pretty early in the fight, but Ladybug DID usually call for one if she was stuck…

LIGHTPOLE

So, don’t stop and ponder, because apparently Reflekta had figured out she could get even MORE range (as if the Reflekta laser beams weren’t enough) by using a lightpole as a makeshift bat.

Dangit, WHY WERE THE VILLAINS ALLOWED TO IMPROVISE WEAPONS.

Also, a partner would be really nice right now! No wonder Ladybug and Chat Noir were sent out together; fighting an akuma by yourself without having someone to distract the supervillain was a NIGHTMARE. Maybe if she had a more purely offensive Miraculous that would make sense, but the Ladybug miraculous was built around tricks and plans. She needed time to think and plan; time she wasn’t getting right now.

A familiar staff smacked the lightpole out of the mech’s hand.

Awesome! Plagg must’ve found-

She took a closer look.

And did a double-take.

Still a black suit with cat ears, but this time the ears were attached to a black hood, and the seams of the outfit were bright green.

She grinned. “So, what’s your name, handsome?”

“Uh- what-“ he spluttered, looking taken aback.

She rolled her eyes as she tackled her boyfriend out of the way of a beam.

“Your superhero name! You’re not using the turtle anymore, ‘Carapace’ doesn’t make sense.”

He stared at her. “I give up. How can you always recognize me?!”

Her gaze softened. “You’re always there when I need you. I need a partner to take down this akuma; of COURSE it’s gonna be you.”

He blushed.

She laughed.

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY IGNORING ME RIGHT NOW?!” Reflekta screamed, her mech barreling towards them.

She flinched. Ok, flirt later, akuma now. Bad enough she’d shoved Juleka to the side earlier, she didn’t want to repeat that mistake.

Especially since this time she might get flattened or Reflekta’d (again) if she did. That would be bad.

“Can you keep the mech busy? I need some time to think,” she said, dodging another beam.

“There’s something you need to know first,” he told her. He motioned for her to follow him to an out-of-the-way rooftop.

Marybug frowned. What info could Nino have picked up in the last two minutes? She’d JUST left him!

“So, less than a minute after you swung away, Plagg flew by calling for Chat Noir. Of course I answered him. He gave me some new info before I transformed. Apparently both that robot and the purple moth on Heroes Day were sentimonsters, creations of the Peacock Miraculous. They work a lot like the Butterfly MIraculous’s akumas, except the object that’s infected – it’s called an amok by the way – doesn’t transform the person themselves. A sentimonster just kinda… manifests. Whoever holds the amok controls the sentimonster.”

“…Well that would’ve been nice to know earlier. Why didn’t Tikki mention this?!”

Nino shrugged. “Maybe she forgot? Or she didn’t realize she was allowed to? Plagg mentioned something about having gotten permission to fill us in.”

Honestly she was surprised he’d waited for permission. He didn’t strike her as the type.

Wait… if the amok was used to control the sentimonster…

“Reflekta must have the amok!” she realized.

But… crap. How to get to her?

“Hey… uh… okay I give up, what should I call you?”

He thought for a moment. “Call me Panther.”

“Panther, can you keep the robot occupied? I want to see if I can spot something I can use to get in or get Reflekta out, or some pattern in its movements – SOMETHING we can use to take Reflekta and the sentimonster down. Hard to do that while dodging attacks.”

He nodded, pole-vaulting away.

She slapped her cheeks.

Ok. Focus, Marybug. Everyone’s counting on you and Panther. You can DO this!

Panther smacked the Senti-bot with his staff, dodging its attacks and just generally keeping it occupied, but doing no real damage.

The attack and movement seemed the same as ever, nothing special ther-

OOH

THAT SLOT ON THE BACK OF THE MECH’S HEAD LOOKED IMPORTANT.

Hm… but how to access it? She didn’t have something to open it with, and besides, it wasn’t like the sentimonster was just gonna stand still and let her and Panther get inside.

Well, if she didn’t have everything she needed right now, then…

“LUCKY CHARM!”

She’d wanted to do that for so long!

A remote fell into her hands.

…Huh.

What the heck could she use it for? Did it control something in particular? Or was it gonna be one of those weirder, utterly insane Lucky Charms that no one in their right minds would be able to decipher?

(Seriously, she wasn’t sure whether Marinette was a genius, crazy, or both. Probably both.)

She pressed a few random buttons.

Far away, she spotted a giant TV screen – one that normally displayed ads, but occasionally broadcasted news to the masses, like akuma attacks – turning on.

Right now it just showed static – nothing was being broadcasted, not on that channel.

Not yet.

A grin slowly spread over her face.

Marinette had her insane Macgyvering (some people had started calling it Ladybugging, something Alya THOROUGHLY supported) but Alya?

Alya knew how to put on a show and draw people’s attention.

Jumping out of cover, she waved frantically.

Panther dodged and weaved around the sentimonster’s attacks, extricating himself from the fight and making his way over to Marybug.

“COME BACK HERE! STOP LEAVING ME AND GIVE ME YOUR MIRACULOUS!” Reflekta roared.

Marybug winced. Well THERE was another one for the guilt trip.

“You got something?” Panther asked quietly, just in case Reflekta could hear them and zone in on their location.

(Probably unnecessary. With how loud the beam firing was and how far away the robot was, she doubted Reflekta could hear anything short of screaming at the tops of their lungs.)

“I think so.” She pointed at a nearby metal beam the Reflektmech had knocked over. “Think you can cataclysm this into a long, thin sheet of metal? About a foot wide and an inch thick, if you can manage it.”

“…Maybe? Not like I’ve ever done this before, but I can give it a shot? Why?”

She explained her plan.

He grinned. “Babe, have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Only every day. Now c’mon, let’s show the world what Marybug and Panther can do!”

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

Let’s see, where was she? She had about as much sense of self-preservation as Alya did, she had to be-

Ah!

Probably should’ve expected her near the TV; that area had a good view of the chaos, while being out-of-the-way of it.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!”

Marybug landed in front of Nadja. “Could I take the microphone for a minute?”

Nadja stared for a moment, but shook it off. Handing it over, she asked, “Who are you and the new mysterious superhero? Are you two replacing Ladybug and Chat Noir? What’s happened to Paris’s favorite duo?”

Marybug gave the camera a confident smile, making sure to press her remote’s button so the TV was tuned to the channel Nadja was broadcasting to. “I’m Marybug, and my partner’s Panther! Don’t worry, we’re only replacing Ladybug and Chat Noir temporarily. They’ll be back soon; I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw them later today in fact.

But enough about us; I’d like to interview the true star of show, Reflekta!”

“WHAT?”

Reflekmech turned around, stomping towards Marybug.

Hearing low voices? Probably couldn’t do that in a mech.

Hearing a gigantic TV cranked up as loud as it would go? Now THAT she could hear.

“Reflekta – what would you like to tell the public. Everyone’s here watching and listening to you!”

For a moment Reflekta was silent, the mech completely still. Then-

“You’re really listening? You’re not gonna brush me off and ignore me?”

“No. This is YOUR show. It’s all about YOU. You’re not going to fade away into the background and be lost; not now.”

Reflekta speaking quietly from within “Yes I’ll get the Miraculous, I know we have a deal, but I need to do this first; I’ll get them afterwards, don’t worry.”

More loudly; “I want people to pay attention to me. They never paid attention to Juleka. Just because she shrunk back and mumbled didn’t mean she wanted to be ignored. She just wanted people to recognize she was there! She existed! But her ‘friends’ threw her away the moment things got hard and just… let her stew. She obviously WASN’T okay!”

Marybug’s stomach curdled. “You’re right. They should’ve tried harder, checked in on her more. Checked in on YOU more. I promise, once you’re deakumatized, I’ll talk to your friends, try to help fix this.”

“I don’t want to be deakum- AH!”

The robot lurched around, no longer being controlled. A moment later it evaporated, leaving a feather behind. Juleka, newly freed from Hawkmoth, was caught by Panther a moment later.

“Wait- what- who’re you? What happened?” she asked, confused.

Marybug smiled. “He’s Panther and I’m Marybug – we’re filling in for Chat Noir and Ladybug temporarily – and you were akumatized.”

Juleka buried her face in her hands.

Crap. What did Ladybug and Chat Noir usually do with akuma victims? She didn’t just want to leave Juleka, not again, but-

Aaaaand her earrings were beeping.

She gave a strained smile. “It can happen to anyone. It’s Hawkmoth’s fault, NOT yours. I’m sure your friends will tell you the same thing. But for now, Bug Out!”

Throwing her yo-yo, she swung away just as Rose made her way to Juleka.

Ok, good. Hopefully Rose could help comfort her until she herself could get back. She still needed to apologize.

Panther pole-vaulted over with her, both of them eventually landing in an abandoned alley.

“Not bad, kitty cat,” she smirked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. Reflekta was so distracted, she didn’t notice I’d entered the robot until I’d already hit her hand.”

She laughed. “I think you might have our own resident Black Cat beat in the stealth department. Unless he can figure out how to pull off that ‘materializing behind locker doors’ trick as Chat Noir. I swear I STILL want to know how he does that.”

“Don’t we all?”

They both chuckled and detransformed. With a small pang of regret, she handed the earrings over to Tikki, Nino handing the ring over to Plagg. “I liked being Marybug, but… well, I’m really glad Marinette kept the earrings. How she does that on a daily basis, I don’t know.”

“She’s one of the best Ladybugs I’ve ever had!”

Alya smiled. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

As Tikki and Plagg flew away to find their holders, she turned to Nino. “Come on, let’s go! We have a photoshoot to complete – IF our model still wants to do it anyway.”

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

Marinette, Adrien, and the rest of the crew were all circled around Juleka by the time the two of them arrived. With a jolt, Alya noticed that while Marinette had her earrings back, Adrien’s ring was still missing.

She shook her head. Worry about that later. Plagg could take care of himself… probably. Maybe. She hoped.

Nothing she could do about it right now anyway. And Adrien didn’t appear too worried, and she KNEW how much he cared about Plagg, so it was probably fine.

“Juleka, I’m so, SO sorry, I should’ve listened to you more closely. You’re my friend too, and I just brushed you off when you were obviously not okay. That wasn’t cool of me. Do you still want to do the photoshoot?”

She smiled, perking up a little. “Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

Alya snapped several photos, some of Juleka and Adrien together as planned, but then their friends kept on getting in the frame and – well, most of the photos may not be suitable for Marinette’s website, but they suited her digital photo album perfectly. Adrien and Juleka both seemed especially thrilled with how things turned out. Neither of them had a ton of photos of themselves having fun with their friends.

As she looked over the photos, her eyes wandered downwards.

A very familiar red and black box sat in front of her.

Heart pounding, she opened it.

And smiled at the sight of the familiar orange fox-tail necklace.

#divergent points #ml fanfic #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #alya cesaire #reflekdoll #Kwami Swap #Ladybug!Alya #Black Cat!Nino #fix-it fic #djwifi

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dyscrasia-eucrasia · 4 years ago

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Part 27

"If Elaine asks, we went to the festival," Demie said as they headed back to the car, pulling his shirt back over his head. Angel was a little disappointed at that, as he had been enjoying the view. He was being honest when he said that he wasn't going to jerk it to the photo he'd taken, but he could still appreciate a good hairy chest, and Demie's fit the bill.

"Got it," Angel replied.

"Seriously, I don't want to hear her say that she told me so."

"I got it, really. I won't tattle on you."

"Thanks."

They walked a little further without saying anything, but then Angel asked: "She really worries about you, huh?"

Demie frowned. "Yeah, but… I wish she didn't. I mean, I know she's just looking out for me, but… I have you with me, it's not like anything was gonna happen."

Angel's stomach turned over. He hadn't realized Demie placed so much trust in him. He wasn't sure he deserved it - he wasn't that responsible. But hearing that Demie thought that much of him made him want to live up to that expectation. He cared about Demie, after all. He wouldn't have stuck around this long after being friendzoned if he didn't.

The only problem was, he wasn't sure if he only cared about Demie as a friend. Demie was sweet, and handsome, and had a godly voice, and Angel kept wanting to bottle moments up so that he could go back to them whenever he wanted. He wished he'd recorded Demie's singing - no car karaoke had felt as intimate as that drive.

He was glad that Demie had let him keep the photograph. Well, photographs. He wasn't sure which one he liked more, the candid shot of Demie eating or the posed shot on the bridge. They showed two versions of him - the vulnerable, awkward side, and the seemingly ancient, wild side. It was like Demie offstage versus Demie onstage.

He'd already made up his mind that he wouldn't share either photograph with the internet. He hadn't planned to share any of this day with the internet, even if they had gone to the festival. Even if Demie were okay with being a public figure, Angel wanted to keep him to himself.

As he was thinking this, Demie came to a halt. Angel paused too, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, when he heard it. There were footsteps drawing near from behind them, and the sound of voices talking.

"You okay?" Angel asked. The veins in Demie's neck were bulging, and his legs were tense. He looked ready to spring into action.

"I'm… I'm okay," Demie said, but he didn't sound like it at all.

"If they ask, we're just here to take cosplay photos, right?" Angel said, waving the Polaroid camera in the air. It had been Demie's idea, but it didn't hurt to remind him of it.

"Right," Demie said with a little nod.

"Here, let's just keep walking, and if they catch up to us, they catch up to us. We'll deal with it then, okay?" Angel said, putting an arm around Demie's shoulders. As he touched him, Angel realized just how tense Demie was.

"Okay," Demie said, letting Angel give him a little push.

Demie walked awkwardly, with stiff legs, at times taking very fast steps and getting ahead of Angel, then pausing and turning partway to wait for Angel to catch up to him. Despite this, the voices eventually caught up to them.

"Whoa, holy shit," a guy's voice came from behind them. Angel turned to see two white guys with camping backpacks round a corner. They both looked young, maybe college students. They had scruffy faces, like they hadn't shaved in a couple of days.

"Dude, nice costume," the one who had spoken said. Angel glanced at Demie, who had stopped and was also turned to look at the two guys. His eyebrows were bunched up together and his mouth had become a thin line.

"Are you guys, like, shooting a movie…?" The one guy asked.

"Ah, no," Angel said, trying to keep his voice upbeat and casual. He felt nervous, so he could only imagine how Demie was feeling. Better for him to take the lead, then. Demie clearly thought that Angel could take care of him in public, so it was time to put that to the test.

"No, we're just doing some cosplay pictures," Angel continued, holding up the Polaroid.

"That's cool," one of the guys said. They were now just a few feet from Angel, and stopped. "Is it for like… Lord of the Rings, or something?"

"No, Narnia," Angel said.

"Oh yeah, I remember those movies," the other guy said. "There was that dude who worked for the witch, and like… hypnotized the little girl."

"Mr. Tumnus," Demie said, just loud enough to be heard.

"That's cool," the first one said.

"Yeah, we just finished up, we're headed back to our car," Angel said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"Us too," the second guy said. "We were camping. Mind if we walk with you guys?"

Angel glanced over his shoulder. Demie still looked tense, but he nodded his head very quickly.

"Yeah, sure," Angel said. The two guys started walking, and Angel hurried to catch up to Demie. Soon, the four of them were walking in a group, with Demie at the front and Angel and the two campers behind him. Angel could see Demie clenching his fists until his knuckles went white.

"I'm Kyle, this is my brother Dylan," the second guy said, holding out a hand. Angel grasped it, then moved on to the other one.

"I'm Angel," he said. "That's Demie."

Demie lifted a hand and gave a short sort of wave without turning around.

"You guys make it out to the creek?" Dylan asked.

"No," Angel replied. "We weren't sure how far it was, and we don't have any water."

"Good call," Kyle said. "Plus the trail would be pretty hard to handle in those shoes." He nodded at Demie's feet.

"That's a kick-ass costume, by the way," Dylan said. "Where'd you get it?"

"I made it," Demie said. His tone was clipped and terse, but the campers didn't seem phased by it.

"That's so dope," Dylan said. "How do you walk in those shoes?"

"Practice," Demie replied.

"He's in a band," Angel added. "It's part of his act. So he does it a lot."

"No way," Dylan said. "What band?"

Demie glanced over his shoulder, giving Angel an angry look.

"They're called Bacchus," Angel continued. He wanted to keep Demie to himself, but he knew that was probably selfish. Demie clearly loved performing, even if it was just in the car. It felt wrong to keep that all to himself.

"Never heard of them," Dylan said.

"They're pretty underground," Angel replied.

"That's cool," Kyle said. "What kinda music do you play?"

Demie looked back at Angel again. Angel raised his eyebrows and gave him a little smile.

"...Heavy metal," Demie said after a moment.

"I could see that," Dylan said. "You got the whole Satanist thing going on."

"Um… more like fantasy metal," Demie said, pausing just slightly so that the three of them could catch up to him.

"You got stuff up on Spotify?" Kyle asked.

"No."

"Ah, too bad. I'm always looking for stuff to play during D&D."

"You play Dungeons and Dragons?" Demie asked.

"Yeah, we do it online," Dylan said. "It's easier that way, means we don't have to schedule around travel."

"You guys travel a lot?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, we have this Youtube channel where we go to abandoned places," Dylan said. "We came out here because there's an old school house deeper into the trail. We've been to a lot of places across the US, but we're planning our first international trip to Italy and Greece."

"What… what's the name of your channel?" Demie asked. Angel shot him a surprised look. He didn't even think Demie watched Youtube, considering he didn't do anything else with technology.

"We're called Space Invaderz," Kyle answered. "We're still pretty small, but, y'know, we're growing."

"Do you have an Instagram?" Angel asked.

"Yeah," Kyle said, "it's Space_Invaderz, with an underscore between the words and a 'z' at the end instead of an 's'."

"I'll give you a follow," Angel said. "When we're back somewhere that has service, that is."

"Cool dude, thanks. Appreciate it."

Angel could see the cars through the trees now. "Cool meeting you guys," he said, once again holding his hand out to shake the brothers'.

"Yeah, you too," Dylan said. "Hey, actually, before we leave, could we get a picture of you?" He said, turning to Demie.

Demie froze. He looked at Angel, his eyes wide.

"Up to you," Angel said with a shrug. Obviously he had a few pictures of Demie now, but he wasn't going to put them up anywhere. He wasn't sure about these guys, but at the same time, he didn't want to speak for Demie, considering Demie had started to open up a little.

"It's okay if you say no," Dylan said. "We don't put anyone in our videos or on our 'Gram who don't want to be."

"I, um…" Demie looked at Dylan, then back at Angel. "Okay."

Angel blinked in surprise. He had been sure Demie was going to say no.

"Cool," Dylan said. He set his backpack down and pulled out a camera case. He unzipped it and pulled out a DSLR.

"Do you… want me to pose, or something?" Demie asked.

"Nah, just act natural. I like candid shots."

"Um… okay." Demie stood stiffly as Dylan took a few steps back and took a snapshot.

"Cool," Dylan checked the digital screen on the camera and approached Demie again. "You mind if I get a close-up of your horns? They're so realistic."

"Uh… yeah, okay," Demie said. Dylan stood to Demie's side and took a couple photos of the horns that curled down around his ears.

"Can you… wait a couple days before putting those online?" Demie asked as Dylan shouldered his backpack again.

"Oh yeah, I figured you'd want to post your pics first. If you send us a DM on Instagram we can tag you in our posts."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure."

The brothers said their goodbyes and climbed back into their truck as Demie and Angel got back into his car.

"You doing okay?" Angel asked as he started up the car. "You could've said no to those guys, I don't think they would've been offended or anything."

"I'm fine. It's fine." Demie said.

"Alright. Just checking. I can probably DM them and ask them not to post those if you want me to."

"No, it'll be fine. They didn't seem like that guy who made the video near my house."

"Yeah, they seemed pretty chill."

They were both quiet for a few moments as Angel turned the car around and pulled onto the dirt road that would eventually lead back to the highway.

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you show me how to do Instagram?"

#writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #gay fiction #lgbt fiction #mlm fiction #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

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detroitbydark · 5 years ago

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Moonbeams and Ridinghoods Chp 3

Pairing: werewolf!Haz/reader

Summary: first dates are great...until they’re not

Warnings: None

Words: 2800+

A/N: someday my laptop will be fixed and I’ll be able to make a cut and quite jamming up your feeds. Until than I’m impatient. Thank you to my favorite child @aossi for putting up with me while I write this. Also thanks again to @sandersonosterfield for the mood board.

Harrison texts you daily and it becomes the highlight of your day opening each message to see what he has sent. He’s totally random and you’re on board for every minute of it.

On Monday you get a picture of a burger around noon and a picture of his roommates feet at dinner. When you question the feet he explains that his roommate, Tom, had the grossest feet imaginable and he had to share the horror with someone else. He segways into telling you about his other roommate, Emily, and their friends that spent an inordinate amount of time at their place.

The surgeon making rounds through the department gives you a raised eyebrow and asks about the smile your sporting. You merely shrug and school your features. When you get home you call him and he asks about your day. He sits quietly, makes all the right agreeable sounds as you recount funny stories from the day. When you whine dramatically about needing to have some fun he teases lightly.

“Well lucky you, is already scheduled for a coffee date with yours truly.”

He’s really too cute for words and you reinforce that, yes coffee with him was a thing that would be happening. You can hear his grin through the phone.

You send him a pic of your sad cafeteria sandwich on your lunch break Tuesday. The turkey and cheese looks rather anemic and you find you just have to share it. He sends a gym selfie that makes you feel all kinds of ways when you ask what he’s up to. Sweat clings to his brow in the mirrors reflection. His shirt is soaked and his hands are taped as if he’s just gone a couple rounds. A smooth smile is plastered across his face as a curly mopped brunette poses up behind him. You get a topless one after that. The view down his pecs and over abs is truly obscene. He shoots back a cursory ‘LOL’ when you remind him you’re not supposed to be looking at porn on hospital hours. When you get back to your apartment you strip out of your scrubs and change into your own gym clothes. He seems to like the spandex shorts and tank top you’re sporting if the howling wolf emojis are anything to go by.

By the time Wednesday rolls around you are so primed to see him you’re absolutely vibrating. Picking up your phone half a dozen times, you have to remind yourself that it’s not cool to look too excited but you can’t help it. You craved more than text messages and phone calls were giving you.

A chill is in the air so you opt for jeans and a trusty pair of combat boots you’d picked up at a yard sale years ago. You layer a loose cream knit sweater over a black tank. The collar hangs loosely off your left shoulder as you look at yourself over in the mirror one last time. Neither of you had said this was a date but you’re treating it like one. It had been so long since you had genuinely been excited to meet up with a guy that you refuse to call it anything but.

You give the taxi driver the address Harrison had sent you earlier in the day. You watch the scenery change from tightly packed apartment buildings to manicured sidewalks and decadent older homes. You’re not familiar with the area at all but it doesn’t stop you from taking in the sights. You begin to wonder if you’re under dressed as the driver pulls up to a stop in front of a cozy looking cafe. You slide him a wad of bills and a smile before your eyes are catching on the man you’d come to see. He’s worth openly drooling over, dressed in dark slacks and a button up with the first pair of buttons undone. His dirty blonde locks have been tamed and gelled into place and he’s wearing a pair of glasses that only add to his handsome appearance.

His eyes dance over you and you soak up the attention. He pulls you in for a quick side hug.

“Really glad you came out.” He says opening the door for you. You can’t help but ducking your head. You can hear him chuckling behind you, “don’t go getting shy on me now, darling.” He teases and you turn your smile up at his unspoken challenge.

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his hand rests across your lower back as he guides you to a table near the window. The sun is shining in, chasing away the bit of cold you’d felt between the cab and the cafe. You move to sit but he steps in a pulls your chair out for you. You’d thought maybe that was something that only happened in movies and romance novels. You whisper a soft ‘thank you’ as you sit down and he slides it back in. You must look confused because he cocks his head as he sits.

“What?” He questions, leaning back languidly in his seat.

You spin the bracelet on your wrist, an old nervous habit. You watch the beads shimmer as the light travels over them with each twirl around your wrist.

“Nothing. Just trying to figure you out.”

Harrison leans forward, forearms pressing into the table, “how much time have you got?”

He flashes that smile that made your stomach flip when you’d first met and, like a trained animal, it does it again.

The smug bastard has got to know what the grin does. There’s no way he hasn’t used it before.

The server comes over and deposits some menus and dutifully reads off the days specials.You watch Harrison’s polite smile and well practiced manners put on display. Somewhere along the line someone had drilled them into his head and you appreciate their effort.

You roll your eyes playfully as his attention comes back to you and the conversation at hand.

“What can I say? I know I’ve got layers.” He says with a lazy shrug.

“Like an onion?”

His laugh is a low rumble. “Just like an onion.”

You order a short time later, you get a coffee and a danish while Harrison order his drink and turkey and Swiss on a croissant.

When it comes out you wish you’d have ordered it. It looks amazing.

“Not quite what they’re serving at the hospital.” He laughs, offering you a bite.

“I couldn’t, that’s your lunch.” You mutter with a bit of embarrassment.

“Ah, come on now. I insist.” He slides the plate over to you and watches intently as you take a bite. Your eyes close and you hum happily. It may be one of the single best bites of food you’ve ever had.

“Good, right?” He laughs. You nod while you chew. “My friend, Em...the roommate I told you about? Well, this is her place.”

You rest your coffee cup between your hands, sipping contentedly. “You’ll have to give her my compliments. Are you close?” You question. The way he spoke about his friends was unlike anyone else you’d ever heard.

“Well, yeah, we’re like… I guess the best explanation is we’re like family.” You see him choosing his words carefully.

“That has to be nice.”

“It is, I mean I’m close with my parents and sister too but to have the boys and Emily in my life day in and day out...I’m sure you're probably thinking it’s odd…”

You shake your head quickly, “No not at all! I mean, I think it sounds really nice. To know there’s always someone there? Isn’t that kind of the dream?”

Harrison’s look is assessing, like you’ve quickly become the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “What about you? It has to be hard being away from everyone, your family and friends?”

Looking down into your cup you watch the brown liquid swirl with the gentle tip of your hands. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you think.

“I can see the gears turning.” He says collecting your attention again. “Why?”

“Just trying to figure out if I should lay the tragic backstory out?”

“Tragic backstory? We all have them don’t we? Tell me.” It’s not a question. You’ve noticed that Harrison did that a lot. He didn’t so much as ask questions as he made gentle demands of you. You shrug, letting your eyes skip out the window and onto the street. Dead leaves, crisp and dry, are blowing down the sidewalk, skittering into view than back out again.

“It was always just me and my Mom growing up. My dad...wasn’t ready to be a father.” She can hear that line in her mother’s voice. A truth she’d been told since she’d been old enough to ask about him. “She got remarried the year before I graduated.” Harrison nods for you to continue as your eyes drift back over to him. “I guess it was kind of her second chance at a family. I’ve got a pair of twin sisters now. They’re three. I’m not really close with them though.”

His fingers brush against yours when you set your cup down.

“Why’s that?”

“I just kind of feel like I don’t belong there? Maybe it doesn’t make sense. We love each other but it just…” You end with a shrug. “And friends? Life happened and we moved away and grew apart.” It’s not the full story but it’s all your willing to divulge. He’s got a small frown marring his features when you look back up and you feel a flush of embarrassment for oversharing.

“Haz!” A bright voice interrupts any apology you might offer as a brunette in an apron walks over. Harrison’s eyes light up as she gets closer and he stands to wrap her in a hug. He turns to you after a moment, arm still wrapped around her waist, as he introduces you.

“Y/n, this is Emily, the brilliant woman I was telling you about.” The casual affection between the two is apparent.

Emily rolls her eyes at the obvious flattery.

“Oh hush, Haz. Who’ve you brought by?” She questions him not looking away from you.

“Em, this is y/n.”

You’d wondered if the knowing look in her eyes had meant anything but when she claps once excitedly you realize that Harrison must have mentioned you to her.

“I’m so glad to meet you.” She enthuses dropping in a chair next to you. You offer your hand politely and she takes it and pulls you in for a hug. You glance at Harrison awkwardly. He’s smothering a laugh, dropping back into his own seat as Emily lets you go.

“This prat has talked about you nonstop I hope you know.” You spare him a glance and he simply shrugs, his blue eyes dancing merrily.

“I’m so glad you brought her!” Emily says glancing at her friend. “What did you get? The danish” She makes a tsking sound and glares at Harrison.

“Why didn’t you get her something good. The danish are rubbish on good days.“ she explains. “Not my best work but a work in progress…”

You smother your own smile. Emily seems to have enough energy to power the better part of London and it’s very easy to see why Harrison had spoken highly of her. If all his friends were like this you really did have to envy him for it.

“Boss?” A tall server shyly interrupts the brunette and she glances over quickly giving a studying look. “We’ve got an issue with the oven.”

Em huffs quietly, “If it’s not one thing it’s always another.” She glances back at the pair of you as she waves the server off.

“Haz, you need to bring her by the house.” She scolds lightly and Harrison gives a sage nod. “And y/n, get my number from the div here and call me, we’ll do lunch.”

Before you can do as much as concur she’s up and moving through the small dining room and into the back.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes, “Is she always like that?” You question.

“Mostly. She has her down days but with Emily, what you see is what you get.” The two of you relax back into conversation. Refills come for your drinks without asking and a takeout container full of goodies miraculously appears as Harrison pays the tab.

“That means she likes you.” He says gesturing to full styrofoam container.

“She doesn’t even know me?” You mumble a little embarrassed by the show of generosity.

“She’s a good judge of character. So am I.”

He’s got you in the passenger seat of his car again. He thought you looked good there, like you were meant to be there. Harrison tries to shake off the feeling. Too much. Too fast.

“Why’d Emily call you Haz” You ask as he focuses on the road.

“All my friend do, really. Just a nickname.” He explains. You sit quietly for a moment.

“Haz…” you try the name out. The soft way you say it makes something inside him burn bright. He wouldn’t mind hearing you say it in another situation. He tamps back those thoughts as he reaches your place and parks.

You’re biting your lip again and he has the urge to lean over and kiss you, to soothe the swollen skin with his own. As you unbuckle he shuts the car off. Your questioning look makes him chuckle.

“It’s not a date if I don’t walk you to your door, yeah?” He enjoys your shy smile.

“So this is a date.” You mumble. “Good”.

“Very.” He adds getting out and moving around the front of the car to open your door for you. You readily lace your fingers between his as he helps you out and you don’t let go as you make your way up the steps.

“You’re going to spoil me with all this attention.” You sound serious as you reach your door and he uses your joined hands to tip your chin up to look at him.

“It’s my job to spoil pretty girls.” He explains softly. Your lips part delicately and he watches with fascination as your tongue wets your lips.

“Do you do it often? Spoil pretty girls?”

“No, it’s been a while since I’ve seen one.” You take a small step closer to him and he pulls your hand up, brushing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. This close, he can hear your heart pounding in your chest. He can feel the soft rush of breath from your lungs.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He warns and you nod, rising up in your toes to meet him as his lips smooth over yours. It’s tentative, a chaste kiss that’s over too soon as he pulls back, enjoying the way your eyes flutter open. But then something changes and you’ve let go of his hand, moving to fist his shirt and pull him back down. He doesn’t fight it, not when your teeth clack together or even when you lose your balance and his hands fall to your hips to steady you. He gives back every ounce of want you pour into him, growling lowly when your teeth nip his lower lip and quickly regaining control, pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You open for him and he luxuriates in the feel of you, the taste of coffee and sweets left on your tongue, the soft whine you make when his tongue strokes against yours. The wolf inside him all but howls with delight. The beast, usually so quiet and docile, wants you. It wants Harrison to lay claim to you for their own. It’s a first. The sudden clarity of it is like a pail of cold water splashed over him. He nearly stumbles back, trying to hide the sudden shock he knows is written across his face. Your lips are swollen from his kiss and you have a nearly drunk look on your face that quickly turns to confusion. Harrison feels so many things in that moment and they are all far more serious than the passing fancy he’d known he’d had for you.

“I had a great time today, Haz.” You say softly, your eyes not meeting his. You pull away from him his hands releasing your hips suddenly, only then realizing how tightly he’d been holding you, hoping he hadn’t hurt you, hadn’t left any marks. You rise up to him one more time and he’s nearly trembling as you press a soft kiss to his cheek, his arms limply at his sides. You disappear into your flat before he can say anything and he’s left staring at your closed door. His hand runs roughly through his hair before he turns and heads back to the car.

He stares straight ahead out the window, the engine growling softly. That other part of him, the wolf had never made himself known like it had tonight. It leaves him feeling unsure and at a loss.

“Fuck.”

#harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield #werewolf!haz #moonbeams and ridinghoods

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slushrottweiler · 6 years ago

Text

Not Safe for W*rk - Prompto x Ignisx x Reader

Lime Promnis x reader fic.

Ignis is stuck in meetings all day. Prompto and Reader decide they need to torment him...

So they spam his phone with sexy photos until he loses it. Smutty phone calls ensue.

Ao3

Full fic below

The phone buzzed softly in Ignis’ pocket as he listened to another minister detail their latest trade agreement with Altissia. Ever the dutiful advisor, he resisted the urge to peek down at the screen, and instead focused harder on the meeting before him. Someone had to; and judging by the far away look in Noctis’ eyes, Ignis was certain his king’s attention had long ago wandered off. His phone buzzed a second time, then a third in quick succession. Ignis couldn’t help but smile. The King had important meetings and cabinet sessions all day today, which meant that Ignis was also in for a long one; much to his partners’ dismay. You had pouted adorably last night at his announcement, complaining aloud that ‘Noct will never learn if you keep babying him’. Ever the sunshine in your lives, Prompto had sprung onto the cushions beside you, wrapping you in a snuggle and proclaiming he would take you a whirlwind adventure the likes of which the kingdom of Lucis had never seen. Your faux-sulking had evaporated instantly, grinning madly as you and Prompto planned your date. Prompto had promised to send Iggy photos throughout the day, but Ignis had simply shaken his head at his ridiculous lovers. That hadn’t stopped Prom however, from damn near spamming his phone with picture after picture of their shenanigans. He had received at least seven pictures before noon, and more had kept pouring in as the day progressed. Not that Ignis was really complaining. Even if the photos weren’t of the two people he loved most in the world, Prompto truly had a gift, and each picture was better than the last. He’d already saved his few favourites, and knew he was going to have to do a culling soon as more and more of his phone’s memory was taken up by Prom’s pictures. As the meeting drew to a close, Ignis collected his notes as Noctis awoke from his stupor to thank the ministers for their reports. Only once he had everything organised did he pull his cell from his pocket and swipe to unlock the screen. Sure enough, there were three new picture messages – all from Prom. A small smile spread over Ignis’ face as he tapped the first file. A stunning landscape filled the screen, a gleaming waterfall surrounded by lush emerald foliage. Prom had used just the right angle to catch the light, throwing a mist of rainbows over the spray at the waterfall’s end. The whole thing looked stunning and bright, very much like the photographer himself. As he thumbed across to the next image, Noctis appeared beside him and peered over his shoulder at the phone.

“More pics from Prom? Oh… that one’s good.” the young king said and Ignis couldn’t help but agree. You were standing hip deep in the water, still in your street clothes and completely soaked. Ignis wouldn’t have put it past you to have jumped in without a care, and likely pressuring your boyfriend to join you with a coy smile and a wink. Prompto had caught you just as you were emerging from the water, so droplets trailed down your exposed skin and caught the light. Your eyes were closed as you pushed back your damp hair, turned two shades darker than its normal h/c. The waterfall roared in the background, just out of focus, and leant you a powerful air. Ignis could almost feel the spray of the water on his face, the sun’s heat on his skin.

“Prom has talent. But I think I like this one better.” Ignis murmured as he flicked to the next picture. Both you and Prom grinned back at him, frozen in the sun. Prom had obviously been trying to take a selfie, his hair still wet and falling in his face, but it appeared you had snuck up behind him and glomped onto his shoulders. The shutter had snapped just as a startled Prompto turned to grin at you, the framing slightly off-tilter so only your faces were in stark focus. You peered right at the camera, laughter making your eyes sparkle. It didn’t have the polish of the previous pictures, nothing fancy or special in the composition; but Ignis immediately knew he’d be saving this one. “The three of you are gross.” Noct groaned and shoved lightly at his friend. “I hate that sappy stuff.” Ignis just chuckled as he slid his phone away. “I shall make a note to tell your wife that, next time she wants to sneak off with you for some alone time.” Ignis kept his face neutral as the King of Lucis shot him a petulant glare.

“Tch. You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn't I?” Ignis quirked an eyebrow.

“ Y/N is a bad influence on you.” Noctis grumbled, earning a snort from his advisor as Ignis led him to his next meeting. More photos rolled in as the day progressed, interspersed with the occasional text message. Pictures of his lovers hanging from trees, posing ridiculously around the marketplace, and generally running wild. Dramatic scenic photos were coupled with casual snaps of you eating a snow cone or browsing through stores. Ignis nearly laughed out loud when he chanced a peek at his phone while walking the dignitaries from Duscae to the meeting hall. A giddy Prompto had a blush-pink chocobo chick sitting atop his head, fluffed up and fast asleep. The expression of awe and excitement on the blonde’s face was priceless, and Ignis switched Prom's caller ID image to that pic as soon as he was able. It was much later that evening and Ignis' work was barely winding down. He sat beside Noctis in his fourth council meeting of the day, and even he was wearing though his attention span. The councillor before him spoke about grain harvests and the rising costs of fertiliser like it was the most exciting thing since sliced bread. And though food resources was obviously important, Ignis couldn’t match the woman’s enthusiasm. Sighing quietly, Ignis adjusted his glasses as he attempted to subtly stretch his legs under the table. His phone had buzzed three or four times since the meeting had begun, and he felt the damned thing go off a fifth time as he settled back into his seat. The last photo he had replied to had been a couple of hours ago, just as the sun was setting. You and Prompto had finished their meanderings and had returned home, apparently to watch movies and eat snacks for dinner. Ignis clearly remembered the enormous bowl of popcorn he had seen in your lap as you had curled up beside your younger boyfriend, afternoon light and the glow from the television throwing a myriad of colours over you both.

Prompto had taken the selfie from a high angle to fit you both in. Sprawled across Ignis’ couch, you had both ditched your shoes and changed into more comfortable clothes. Prompto’s hair was fluffy and unstyled, like he’d just come from a shower, and the purple in his eyes seemed more vivid as he grinned cheekily up at the camera. You had been caught unaware, with your legs thrown over the arm of the couch and popcorn halfway to your lips. You had scrunched up your nose, sticking your tongue out at the shutterbug’s antics. Knowing his lovers as well as he did, Ignis hadn’t expected any more messages that evening. He had assumed you would both be glued to whatever show you had put on, and not likely to emerge until he arrived home to shuffle you both to bed. So why was his phone still going off?

Even on silent, Noct could hear the phone vibrating against the cushioned chair. He raised one regal eyebrow at Ignis, shooting him a look that said trouble back home ? Giving a subtle shake of his head, Ignis tried to turn back to the meeting, only for another buzz to sound.

Noct rested his hand in his chin. Smug eyes flicked down to his pocket and back. Gonna answer that Specs?

Exhaling slowly through his nose, Ignis adjusted his glasses as he attempted to casually slip his phone from his pocket and check the screen under the table. After a quick scan to check that all the other councillors were distracted; Ignis tapped the home button and a dim blue light blinked on in his lap. The default blue lock screen was filled with notifications, and he flicked off the calendar notes and a work email to see he had received eight SMS’ from Prompto, a further three picture messages and one picture message from you.

That made his eyebrows knit together in confusion. You rarely sent picture messages when you knew Prompto was on a binge, knowing he’d have received all of the blonde’s favourites already. To make things quick, he flicked open Prompto’s text thread. There were two new pictures of you watching TV. Your rapped attention was glued to the screen, one showing a shocked face and another with a giggly grin splitting your face. A few messages followed, all written in Prompto’s usual rapid fire texting style.

Isn’t our GF pretty? Look at her little nose

Y/N says your silence better be agreement…

I’m telling Y/N you don’t think she’s pretty. She’s gonna be so heartbroken </3 My Perdy GF Now!

There is a break of about an hour or so, before the texts had started reappearing. The following messages had only been sent about half an hour ago.

Come on! Work must be over by now

Iggy

IGNISSSS!

IGGGGGGGGGYYYYYY PAY ATTENTION TO US!

The last few messages made Ignis feel that you had joined in on the texting, the two tossing the phone back and forth as you sent rapid fire messages over the next few minutes. Underneath was a picture of the two of you pouting melodramatically. Prompto was tracing a fake tear down his cheek. But it was the messages below that made him nervous.

Oh no, you must be so busy Ig. Guess we’ll just have to entertain ourselves. Whatever shall we do with this big, empty, soundproofed apartment.

Ignis looked up from his phone, trying to push down the feeling of curiousity and anticipation as he carefully navigated to your message. He was still trying to maintain the impression that he was paying attention to this meeting, so he nodded along before glancing down quickly at the image his girlfriend had sent.

And slamming his phone against his own thigh, eyes growing wide in shock. His gaze flicked over to Noctis who was throwing a quizzical look between him and his concealed phone. Carefully, Ignis swapped his phone to his other side, away from Noct and his potentially bored sight. Once he was sure none of the other people in the office could accidently see his screen, he pried his screen away from his thigh to see the photo he had been sent. And the sight sent tingles down his spine.

You was laying across the couch, completely naked but for Prompto’s dark studded vest. Her arms were arranged languidly around your head, all smooth skin tangled up in your mussed up hair. Prom’s vest was carefully draped to conceal just the every edge of your nipples, tantalising. Your eyes challenged him to look; dared him to follow the line of your throat down, down along the valley between the curve of your breasts and the dip of your belly button and lower still. Those mile long legs were arranged just right to hide your sex from his gaze, and Ignis could almost feel the creamy softness of your skin beneath his palms. Only a side lamp and the television lit the shot, casting cheeky shadows to match the devilish smirk on your lips. Prompto had obviously taken the photo, and Ignis could see his bare knee causing the couch cushion to dip on the very edge of the frame.

Underneath was the simple caption.

Do we have your attention now?

By the Six, yes they had his attention. Ignis wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at his phone. Shaking his head to clear it, Ignis tried to tune back into his surroundings, sending back one short message to his partners before pointedly placing the cell screen up on the table before him.

Behave you two

Not even a minute later, his phone buzzed with the response. He didn’t need to open the message. The notification lit his screen for a brief moment, and being hyper-aware of it now, Ignis had read it as it flashed up.

Fine

He could hear the pout. Gods, if he was honest he could still see that photo; all of your bare skin and sly smile, the implication of Prompto hovering over you. That vest of his revealing more than it was hiding, the wearing of it just a little possessive. Like they had marked each other in his absence. Like they were inviting him to add his own claim…

“Advisor Scientia?” a voice broke through his distraction and Ignis jolted in his seat. Clearing his throat, Ignis adjusted his glasses to give himself a moment to regain his composure before turning back to the minister. From the shuffling and looks on the surrounding attendants, his King included, they were likely waiting for him to call the meeting to an end.

Ignis brought the council session to a close with a few short words and a polite bow. He got a few odd looks from his colleagues as they slowly trickled from the room and he took a moment to painstakingly collate his notes and take a sip from his water glass. When his phone buzzed again, he froze.

The screen flashed, Prompto (1) Media Message.

Carefully, as though his phone may erupt in his grip, Ignis picked up the device and opened the message. And promptly choked on his own breath.

“Is Prom still teasing you with photos?” Noct asked playfully. Ignis whipped around just in time to see his king and close friend reaching out to take a peek at the phone in his hand. He instantly jerked the cell back, pressing the screen to his chest as his eyes grew wide. Noctis withdrew his hand, confused at his advisor’s reaction. A beat passed between them. Then a second.

A knowing smile spread over Noctis’ face, as the young ruler of Lucis parted his mouth to tease his advisor.

“There is a short break before our last item of the day. I must collect some papers from my office, if you’ll excuse me Your Majesty.” Ignis interrupted as he scooped up his things and hurried from the room.

“Say hi to Prom and Y/N for me.” Noctis chuckled response followed him out.

Once he turned the corner to a mostly empty hallway, Ignis chanced a look at his phone again, and had to bite his tongue to silence the groan that attempted to crawl up his throat.

Prompto has sent another photo of you laying on the couch, but this one was … more.

It was mostly a close up of their girlfriend’s face, shot from the side from waist up. Only the blue-pink light from the television lit your body, shadows thrown across your torso as your back bowed into a long arch, head thrown back as you moaned. Your eyes were shut, lips parted as though caught in a cry of agonised pleasure.

Ignis could clearly see Prompto’s arm laid along the line of your chest with his palm pressed to your sternum, holding you down… holding you in place as you writhed. How Prom had managed to take the photo, Ignis could only guess. Some delayed shutter function or something. Regardless, it was obvious from the angle of his arm and the debauched tension painted across your face what Prompto was doing just out of frame. He had written a message to go with the photo, just in case there was any doubt.

She tastes so good Iggy

Ignis swore viciously under his breath. He needed to get to his office. Now.

It was a good twenty minutes before he managed it however. Getting caught by Cor just outside his office had led to the older Kingsguard firing a million questions at him, and in his distracted state, Ignis could not think of an adequate reason to skirt past the man and rush on. He was itching to shoot past the man for the privacy of his own office, the tension only rising as he felt him phone receive more messages. Once he had finally managed to extract himself from that conversation, Ignis tried to remain outwardly calm as he slipped into his office and shut the door. Leaning back against the wood, he pulled out his phone.

Three (3) new messages

With more patience than he honestly felt, Ignis placed his papers on his desk and unlocked his phone.

Red or Blue?

Too Late! I chose Blue

The tables had apparently turned at home and Ignis didn’t bother to stifle his groan at the latest photos his lovers had sent. You had taken this photo. It didn’t have the polish of Prompto’s photography, but that did nothing to damage the utter sin captured in the image.

Prompto was on his knees in their bedroom, his golden blonde hair a mess from your fist as you pressed his mouth further onto your blue strap-on. The gunslinger looked like sex personified, his face utterly blissed out as he deepthroated the toy you wore. His lips glistened with saliva, kiss swollen and bruised pink as he pressed his nose into the curls of your sex. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, those intense violet eyes blown wide with need.

“Fuck,” Ignis hissed through his teeth as he hit call. Leaning heavily on his desk, he pressed the phone to his ear as he removed his glasses with precise actions, placing the lenses unfolded on his desk. The cool wood beneath his palm grounded him until his call was finally answered.

“Hey handsome, still at work?” came the crooned greeting through the speaker, and his grip tightened around the phone.

“You two will be the death of me Kitten.”

You laughed, this breathy sound that caught Ignis by the throat. He heard a muffled whimper through the line as he lowered himself into his chair. A shuffling of sheets and a sharp gasp followed and he groaned again.

“Is that Iggy?” Prompto’s voice was distant and rough in a way it only got when he’d had his mouth fucked. More muffled shifting sounded and he heard you murmur softly to your partner.

“Yeah sunshine. I think we got him all worked up…” your voice trailed off, and the wet sound of kissing made Ignis snarl. It lasted a beat or two, and ended with Prompto’s whine seeming closer than before. You must be holding the phone close to your joined lips.

“Do you want another pic handsome?” the teasing lilt to your question seemed directed as much at Prompto than at Ignis.

“I’m lucky to have a job. Anyone could have seen.” Ignis growled into the microphone as he loosened his tie, undoing the top button of his shirt

“You like it when we tease.” you retorted. “Sunshine here liked it too. Don’t you Prom?” He heard a stuttered moan, and Prompto quietly ask for “ Faster, please I need more.”

“No.” The order snapped out of him before Ignis could stop it. He heard you laugh again, and from the distance of Prompto’s whine, Ignis could guess that you had sat back up away from him.

You hummed, and a shocked gasp turned strangled. “Hear that Prom, Iggy wont let me. He wants to call the shots.”

“Fuck that!” he heard Prompto cry out. “He’s not even here. Fuck baby, ride me harder.”

“No.” Ignis repeated, and he swore his words alone caused you to moan.

“What should I do to him then handsome?” you asked and Ignis felt his cock twitch within his slacks. He leaned forward to rest his elbow on his desk, shutting his eyes as he listened to his lovers through the phone. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped lower with lust.

“Describe it to me first.” he ordered.

Another moan and a strangled gasp. “Prom’s all spread out on your bed, god his skin looks good against your sheets. He’s on his back and that sweet blush of his is spreading down his throat the more I talk. God our boy is so hot. So pretty and needy all spread out beneath me. He likes knowing I’m talking to you, likes knowing you know how hot he is. Are you jerking off to us handsome?” you broke off with a gasp, your voice trembled slightly as you picked back up again. “Fuck his cock just twitched inside me. He loved the idea of you getting off to me riding his hard cock.”

Ignis groaned in time with Prompto, and he palmed his own cock through his slacks. A quick glance at his desk clock showed he still had time before his next meeting, and the door was still closed and the hall quiet. Wet kisses echoed from his lovers through the phone.

“Put me on speaker.” he grunted as he freed his cock. All their teasing and tension had Ignis rock hard as he gently freed himself. Carefully he wrapped his fist around the heat of his shaft, smearing a bead of precum as he went.

“Baby please!” Prompto whined. Their voices sounded different, a bit tinnier now that they were on speaker. But they were both clearer, and he heard fabric shift as he imagined Prompto clutched desperately at the sheets and your thighs.

“Ride him real slow kitten.” Ignis ordered, “rock your hips back and forward, just go nice and slow.”

You hummed again, pleased. Prompto’s whimpers were growing louder, closer to a snarl now.

“Fuck you Iggy! Oh holy fucking Six Y/N!” Words tumbled out of Prompto in a near constant stream, curses mixed in with moans and pleas as Ignis guided you to slowly ride his cock. He could hear the gunslinger's breath catch when you bottomed out, and those little hitches in your breath when you ground against him just right. When he let you speed up slightly, he began pumping his cock faster, in time with the soft slap of flesh he could hear.

“We can hear you touching yourself handsome. Can you hear him Prom? Hear how much you turn him on?” Pleasure dripped of your voice and both men groaned at your words. Ignis leaned back in his chair, head tipped back as he added a slight twist to his movements. His own moan of pleasure blended with his lovers.

“Speed up.” he groaned and the sounded of flesh slapping against damp flesh grew louder. Your gasps were all but drowned out by Prompto’s babble.

“Yes! Holy shit yes yes! Love you, love you both. Holy Fuck!” Prompto’s words grew more unintelligible, and Ignis’ hand clenched tighter on his own cock as he swallowed hard. You was moaning too now, your sharp little gasps of pleasure a heady staccato.

Ignis chuckled at his lover’s words. “Does she feel good sunshine? Is she wet and tight around you?” he murmured down the phone, just to hear Prompto whine.

“God yes, she feels so good. You feel so good baby.” Prompto rambled.

“Touch your breasts kitten. Sit up and pinch your nipples as you ride our sunshine.”

Your moan was like a drug; and it pumped through his blood and made him dizzy with it. Ignis growled, hips jerking up to meet his hand’s movements. His lover’s voices and the sound of their sex was heady, and he could hear them getting lost in the act. When your voice rose an octave, Ignis could tell what Prompto was doing.

“Stop rubbing her clit or I’ll make her slow down.” he growled the order and both his lover’s whimpered.

“I’m… I’m too,” Prompto gasped, “ gonna…”

A wicked grin spread over Ignis’ face, alone in his office. As his toes curled within his shoes, he gripped his cock tightly at the base, taking deep breaths through his nose to calm himself as he said. “Y/N, slow down. Don’t let him cum.”

A bark of breathless laughter sounded, along with a pleading wail.

“No, no baby don’t Oh Fuck!”

“Nuhuhuh, you heard him sunshine.” you teased, obviously enjoying yourself. Prompto’s pleas trailed off into moans and Ignis chuckled darkly.

“It was your idea to send those pictures, wasn’t it sunshine?” Ignis crooned low and smooth. Prompto’s lack of reply was answer enough, and Ignis chuckled darkly as he began to slowly stroke his cock again. “I should have Y/N leave you like this. Since you like to tease.”

“Don’t god, Y/N please fuck I need you.”

“I don’t know sunshine,” she replied, mischief making your voice light. Ignis heard messy, open-mouthed kisses trail up Prompto’s body, growing louder as they reached his head and the phone. “Maybe if you ask Iggy nicely.”

“Please!” Prompto begging was easily one of Ignis’ favourite sounded, and his pulse leapt as he began to stroke himself again. “God please Iggy, let her ride me, please please please…” his words trailed off, mixed in amongst the sound of smacking lips and gasps for breath. He was on the edge, Ignis could see it as clearly as if it were laid out before him. Prompto’s freckles standing out starkly against his blush, lips parted and eyes screwed shut, you pinning his arms above his head with that sly smile.

“... no.” Ignis growled.

And he heard Prompto snap.

The line crackled with movement, and you yelled. For a second Ignis was worried, scared he’d pushed too far or that either of them were hurt. But then he heard your gasp turned to a long, low moan. Sounds of fast, angry sex echoed through the phone to Ignis and without his explicit consent, his own hand sped up to match them.

“Mine turn now baby…” Prompto’s voice was deeper and more dominant that it had been moments ago. A dark laugh sounded when you damn near shrieked in pleasure, and a tumble of curses fell from your lips.

“Like that baby? Like it when I fuck you good and hard?” Ignis could barely make out the words Prompto was saying. He knew that, when their lover got dominant like this, he would press himself as close as possible, body flush with theirs and his head buried in their neck, or forehead pressed hard against theirs. The image alone made Ignis pump himself harder.

“Six she’s so pretty Iggy. She takes my cock so good.” Ignis was surprised to hear Prompto even address him. A tingle ran through him at the acknowledgement.

“I can hear you fucking your own fist Iggy. Are you imagining its you deep inside our girl? Or do you want me to fuck you while you fuck her?” you gasped at that, and Prompto growled. Ignis had clenched his eyes so tight he was seeing stars behind his eyelids. His phone was warm and sticky pressed against his ear, but Ignis didn't care as he listened on.

“I want to watch… watch you fuck him while I ride his face.” The words from you were a shock. You usually wasn’t as verbal when things got this far, and your words were clipped as Prompto drove the air from your lungs. Ignis clenched his jaw to stop the loud moan that almost escaped him.

Less words came through the line as his lovers grew close. Prompto’s rambling made less sense, strings of yes and various curses were interspersed with both of their names. Your gasps of pleasure grew louder and needier, and Ignis wasn’t far behind. Ignis tried to string the garbled phrases together as he pumped his cock hard, desperate to join his lovers in their bliss.

A broken cry of “close” came from you, and Ignis growled back. “Same.”

Prompto simply chuckled at them both and the sounds of sex sped up. Ignis could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his head, a rising pulse that matched Prompto and you as you all both neared your climax.

When he heard Prompto’s breath catch, Ignis managed one last command. “Cum for me my loves.”

It was the sound of their joint orgasm, your higher keen and Prompto’s choked moan that drove Ignis over the edge. With his own shocked gasp, he came hard into his own hand, the names of his lovers on his lips.

For a long minute there was nothing but their collective heavy breathing. Sheets shifted and the quiet smack of a kiss dropped on a shoulder brought a smile to Ignis’ lips. Carefully, he plucked some tissues from the box in his desk drawers and cleaned himself up.

“Are you both ok?” he asked once he felt he could speak again.

At first he only got a low hum of affirmation from his lovers. He could hear them murmuring, likely asking each other the same question. After a few more beats, Prompto’s sex-roughened voice crackled through the speaker.

“Remind me to tease you more often Ig. That was… wow.” You snorted out a laugh in the background. Smiling to himself, Ignis held his cell against his ear with his shoulder as he righted his clothes.

“Please don’t. My career won’t survive.” Ignis couldn’t make himself sound stern, his body too relaxed from his orgasm.

“Noct would never fire you. Perks of being friends with the boss-man.” You chimed in.

“Lets not test that, shall we.”

You simply hummed in reply. Ignis understood how you felt. He wanted nothing more than to curl up beside those two and drift away. A knock on his office door make him jump, breaking the sleepy haze that was settling over him. He was at work damn it. He must have made some kind of noise, because Prompto giggled on the other end of the line.

“I have to go love.” he explained.

“Duty calls.” Prompto chuckled. “We love you Iggy.” You made a soft sound of agreement.

Just as he was going to respond, Noctis poked his head in. Seeing his advisor on the phone, the king simply raised an eyebrow and tapped at his wrist with a smirk. Time's up.

“Love you too.” Ignis replied before reluctantly ending the call. Without preamble, he skirted around his desk; collecting his coat and glasses as he went. Noctis gave him a rueful look.

“So, no budget meeting this evening?” Noctis stepped aside as Ignis moved to join him in the hallway.

“I think it can wait until tomorrow. I think we both have people waiting for us.” Ignis replied. Noct bid him goodnight and hurried off to his private ward, likely to join his wife for the evening. As Ignis watched him go, his phone buzzed in his grip. He opened the message as he made his way out of the castle and headed home.

His partners were curled up in his bed, both looking debauched and satisfied. Hickeys and love bites littered their throats and shoulders, as you lay with your head resting on Prompto’s chest. Your hair was a disaster, sprawled out over his shoulder and the pillows beneath them. Prom had fared no better, sweat making his blonde locks stick to his forehead. Your eyes were closed, though you had a knowing smile on your face. Prompto’s free arm wrapped securely around your shoulder, and he gazed out of the camera with a lazy grin. Beneath was a small caption.

We love you babe.

Without thinking, Ignis quickly tapped out his reply and hit send.

Be home soon. Love you both

103 notes · View notes

danfanciesphil · 7 years ago

Text

Give Me A Try (New Chapter)

Gay Instagram Model/Bartender Phan AU Part 3

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Read on Ao3!)

Dan’s in the middle of his break, scrolling through his phone, when a text notification appears at the top of his screen. He drops his bagel into his lap, cursing.

The text is from Phil. He doesn’t know any other Phil’s, so it has to be AmazingPhil, texting him, inexplicably.

He clicks the notification, eyes wide, simultaneously scooping up the bagel bits that have fallen onto his knees.

From: Phil To: Dan im in makeup for a weird photoshoot for some korean clothing brand and they just put loads of silver goo in my hair to make it chromey

As Dan is reading the message, searching between the lines for a reason Phil might be telling him this information, another text pings through.

From: Phil To: Dan whoops, i kinda meant to send that to PJ. but hey, if you’re interested, here’s a pic of me with ‘Kpop Idol Silver Hair Paste’ in lol xx

From: Phil To: Dan [image]

The phone slips from Dan’s fingers, clattering through his legs to the floor of the staff room. Phil has sent him a selfie. An un-edited, un-Instagrammed photo of his breathtaking face, up close. Sure, there’s a weird silvery goop in his usually raven hair, but still. Gingerly, Dan retrieves the phone, a small, strangled sound escaping from his throat as he surveys the image in front of him.

It makes a little more sense now that Phil has informed him that he had actually mistakenly texted the original message, but did the guy really have to follow up with a photo? He must, surely, be aware of Dan’s crush. He witnessed the brunt of Dan’s obsessive stalking in person on his phone, after all.

Bagel entirely forgotten, Dan just stares down into the pixelated blue of Phil Lester’s eyes, wondering how to respond, and if he even should. Deciding eventually that it would be rude not to, Dan shakily types out something he hopes is vaguely witty.

From: Dan To: Phil hahaha wow :’) kpop? more like kpoop. (it looks like bird poop, sorry dude.) x

From: Phil To: Dan hahaha it does ur so right. and if you think thats bad you should see the outfits… xx

Settling back into his chair, Dan bites his lip. As he thinks of a potential response, his eyes wander over to the spot, just to the right of him, where he and Phil had stood not long ago, when it had seemed like maybe, possibly, Phil might’ve…

But obviously that’s absurd.

Dan’s wishful thinking had clearly driven him to the point of hallucination, because the very notion that Phil Lester, AmazingPhil, the famous Instagram model, would ever have looked at Dan as anything more than a random bartender, is laughable.

Dan sighs to himself, then smirks. Well, just because he has no chance, doesn’t mean he can’t utilise his semi-connection to the celebrity to get some behind-the-scenes footage of his fave.

From: Dan To: Phil well now i have to see x

There’s a noticeable pause, and Dan wonders, panicking vaguely, if he may have pushed too far. Is it a little much to ask this of Phil? Maybe he just won’t respond, and Dan will have to quit his job forever, or maybe just spend his shifts on red alert that Phil will wander into the bar, and hide from him if he does-

He texts back.

From: Phil To: Dan [image]

From: Phil To: Dan hot, right? xx

For two long, uninterrupted minutes, Dan is frozen. Then, he lets out a muffled groan of frustration. The photo Phil sent is a full body shot taken by someone else; he’s dressed in an asymmetrical long white t-shirt with several long rips through the chest, some bright pink camouflage trousers, and a shiny silver puffer jacket with a black fur-lined hood. The outfit is a complete disaster, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. His chest is visible through the slits in the tee; having seen it twice now IRL, Dan is drawn to the slivers he can see. The trousers make his eyes pop, and the jacket matches the silver streaked through his hair.

His pose is casual, feet apart, smirking at the camera, with his hands gesturing to his body as if to say ‘see what i mean?’. If he’d posted this on his Instagram, Dan gets the feeling he’d have saved it to his camera roll anyway, maybe even made it his phone background.

Dan’s done that with a few of his favourite photos of Phil in the past. He won’t even dwell on the time when Phil posted a photo of himself in the bath and Dan, in a semi-sleep-deprived fit of insanity, printed the photo out and stuck it on his wall.

Tyler came over once, weeks later, saw the photo taped above Dan’s bed, and tore the thing down. He’d told Dan, quite rightly, to stop being such a creep and keep his crazed obsessive behaviour to social media like everyone else.

“Who even has physical photos these days?? You’re like a fucking serial killer!”

Dan chuckles at this memory. He’s glad for Tyler, sometimes, even if he’s only good for keeping Dan’s stalkerish behaviour within the realms of normalcy.

Belatedly, he realises it’s been over five minutes and he still hasn’t responded to Phil. Also, his break is close to being over.

From: Dan To: Phil woww. please, phil of the future, tell me what life is like in 2087 x

From: Phil To: Dan stawwp. i keep laughing out loud at what ur saying and now the designer is sending me death glares :’’’D xx

Trying hard to ignore the fact that his dorky jokes are apparently literally making Phil ‘lol’, Dan checks the time, and sighs, typing out another message.

From: Dan To: Phil is the designer a martian? or maybe secretly one of those reptile-people? maybe skin him just to be safe. also my break is over so i gtg. have fun on set of NASA’s moonlanding recreation x

From: Phil To: Dan aww ur at work too? that sux. i forgot that u work at night lol. hope u stay dry this evening ;) xx

From: Dan To: Phil speaking of… why are u at work? isnt it kind of late for a photoshoot? x

From: Phil To: Dan well its 8am here so no haha xx

From: Dan To: Phil where are you? x

From: Phil To: Dan seoul :) hence the… unusual fashion lol xx

Dan’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He stands from his chair, throws his half eaten bagel in the trash, and looks around himself. He’s in the staff room - a small, dusty space with a row of falling apart lockers, a couple of chairs and a small table. There’s a hook on the wall which holds a load of unused aprons, and a rusty heater for when it’s especially cold.

He’s about to go back out to serve a load of rowdy customers some overpriced cocktails, then mop a dancefloor sticky with sweat, alcohol, and whatever other liquids might have found their way there. Then, he’s going to go back to his crummy flat way across in Kemptown, unfold his sofabed, and fall asleep to Netflix.

Phil, on the other side of the world in Korea, is having his hair, makeup and wardrobe done by professionals. He’s being treated like a celebrity, no doubt, and pampered excessively. Later, he’ll receive high-definition, professional photographs of himself looking gorgeous, and post them to his Instagram, where millions of people will tell him how stunning he looks.

Dan sighs to himself. How the other half lives.

The following day, Dan wakes up to find that Phil has updated his Instagram story, and posted the photo with the silver goo in his hair. The same one he’d sent to Dan. The caption reads:

Not sure silver hair was a good idea! The designer was going for Kpop, but ended up with Kpoop… can’t wait to show you guys the photos from this shoot! xx

Two things cross Dan’s mind.

First, Dan can now officially state that he had a sneak-peek at an official AmazingPhil photo before it was posted.

Second, the bitch totally stole his joke.

He smiles to himself ruefully, then decides to leave a comment. There’s no way that Phil will even see it - he’s never seen any of Dan’s others, or at least Dan sincerely hopes he hasn’t, as they’re mostly things like ‘choke me’ or ‘slap me round the face with your yaoi hands dad’.

Okay, maybe he tends to leave those sorts of comments when he’s less than sober.

This time, Dan just taps out a simple:

danisnotonfire: joke stealing is a low form of theft phil smh ;)

Still smiling to himself, Dan rolls over onto his side, and settles in to watch Phil’s story. The stories are usually long, silly, and full of adorable clips of Phil being clumsy and cute. As expected, this one is no exception. It’s a tour of Phil’s hotel room in Seoul, which is very posh.

Phil exclaims over the origami hand towels on his bed, the robe provided for him in the wardrobe, and the multiple options on the ‘disco shower’ as he calls it. Just as Dan is marvelling at the panoramic shot Phil has filmed of his view from the balcony, a notification pings at the top of his screen.

amazingphil replied to your comment: joke stealing is…

Dan sits bolt upright in bed, the sheets falling off him. He runs a hand through his messy hair, eyes wide. He clicks the notification before it disappears, heart pounding.

Oh no, oh no, oh no. Dan hadn’t intended for him to actually see. What if Phil thinks he’s being rude? He doesn’t actually mind Phil stealing his stupid joke about the hair goo. It’s an honour, if anything, that Phil finds his dumb joke good enough to post as a caption millions of people will read.

Heart thrumming, Dan finds the response Phil left.

danisnotonfire: joke stealing is a low form of theft phil smh ;)

amazingphil: @danisnotonfire aha i was kinda hoping you wouldn’t see ;D

Another notification pings at the top of his screen.

amazingphil started following you

“Holy shit,” Dan says to nobody.

amazingphil liked your photo

“Fuck,” Dan squeaks, clutching his pillow for support. “Stop it Phil, I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Curious, Dan clicks the last notification, wondering which photo it was that Phil pressed the little heart for. To his surprise, it’s a selfie, one he took at work around a month ago. He took it during a lull between serving, if he remembers correctly. The lighting hadn’t been awful when he was doing his hourly fringe check in his phone camera, so he’d snapped a pic. It’s nothing special, just a moody expression and a wash of pink lighting across one half of his face.

amazingphil commented on your photo

amazingphil: nice pout ;) xx

Dan falls back into the pillows, mind obliterating itself into a thousand, tiny pieces.

Over the next few weeks, Dan has several text conversations with Phil. They’re usually started by Phil himself, who will - out of what Dan assumes is boredom - sometimes send him a random meme, a musing about his surroundings, or a selfie. For obvious reasons, Dan prefers the latter.

No matter how many times Phil reaches out via text, the surreality of it never fails to send Dan’s mind freewheeling. It always knocks the wind out of his lungs, it always makes him stop dead in his tracks, and it always leaves him struggling to recover for the next few hours. Whenever this happens at work, Tyler never fails to tease him mercilessly.

“Whoops! Please excuse him, sir, his mind has been blended by a single text from his crush,” Tyler tells a customer the fifth time Dan drops a glass behind the bar.

Dan scowls at his friend, but doesn’t try to defend himself. It’s true, after all. One text from Phil has him behaving like a moron. He becomes physically inept, unable to make the simplest drink.

One night, after the bar has closed, Dan and Tyler are cleaning up.

“So when’s he gonna stop torturing you over text and come sweep you off your beer-drenched tootsies?”

Dan rolls his eyes at this. “He’s not, Ty. He’s a rich and famous superstar, and I’m clearing up puke for the third day in a row.”

Dan wrinkles his nose as he continues mopping up the patch of vomit. He’s suspicious at this point; three days in a row is unusual. Is the same person coming in each night and spewing their guts all over the dance floor out of spite? Perhaps it’s some sort of hate crime.

“It’s like a Cinderella story!” Ty exclaims, pirouetting around his broom. “Except it’s gay, which makes it even better.”

Dan scoffs at him. “I’m pretty sure fairytales don’t involve stalking someone over social media and having them find out. He’s just taking pity on me because he saw that first night that I’m a fan.” Dan dunks the mop back in the bucket, turning to Tyler. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he has a boyfriend.”

Tyler sucks in a scandalised breath. “What! Who?”

Dragging the mop back to the supply closet, Dan laughs. “Remember the drunk guy he came with? The one who gave me a lovely Rainforest shower?”

“Him?”

Dan sighs, locks the cupboard, and nods. He digs into his pocket for his phone, and brings it over to show Tyler the photo of Phil and Charlie kissing. Matt, the security guard wanders over to see as well, letting out a low whistle.

“He’s a nonce if he thinks that guy’s behaviour was attractive,” Matt says. “He puked ‘soon as I got him out the door that night. All over the pavement.”

Dan looks at Matt, tilting his head in interest. “He did?”

Tyler plucks the phone out of Dan’s hand, zooming into the photo to have a better look, a frown on his face.

“Yep, your friend there came out, called him an Uber and sent him off,” Matt says. “Doubt pukey there would’ve made it home without him.”

“Nice guy,” Dan mutters, cheeks warm.

“This is staged,” Tyler announces abruptly.

“What?”

“Look,” he says, bringing the phone back over for Dan to see.

He zooms in on the crux of the kiss, right onto Phil’s face. Dan grimaces.

“Ty, I don’t want to see-”

“Shut up and look at his face,” Tyler interrupts, grabbing Dan’s chin and angling it towards the phone. “See how his lips are puckered? All stiff and pointed, like he’s kissing his grandma. And his eyes are open.”

“He’s looking at the camera!”

“Nah, Tyler’s right mate,” Matt says. The gum he’s chewing is making gross squishy sounds right in Dan’s ear as he leans over to look. “He looks awkward as hell.”

Dan narrows his eyes at the photo, trying to see what the others see.

“Besides, didn’t you say he hated that guy?” Tyler asks, clicking off the photo.

Dan tuts, snatching his phone back. “Well, apparently he was just being nice to compensate for the fact his kissing buddy covered me in sugary cocktail.”

He makes the smart decision to step away from this preposterous conversation before he does something stupid. Like allow either of these morons to give him hope that Phil is actually single.

Not that Phil being single would even matter.

“Or he was making it clear that he’s available!” Tyler calls after him as Dan stalks over to the staff room. “He whipped his shirt off for you twice and gave you his number. Do you think he’d do that if he had a boyfriend?”

“Drop it, Ty!” Dan calls back, shutting the staff room door behind him.

He will not let himself fall into the trap of daring to believe he could get someone as gorgeous, as hilarious, as pure and… amazing, as Phil Lester.

He won’t.

This is a good philosophy, in theory.

In practise, it turns out to be a lot more difficult. Dan finds this out to his cost when Phil strolls into Habenero the following Friday with Charlie Hickory at his side. Dan’s stomach sinks as soon as he sees the pair, the butterflies that appear each time Phil so much as acknowledges exploding into dust the moment he registers who Phil is here with.

Phil makes a beeline for the bar, a big smile on his face as he sees Dan. Warily, Dan smiles back, very aware that he is not exactly Charlie’s biggest fan.

“Dan!” Phil sings, chipper as ever.

Blushing already, Dan waves an awkward hand. He will never, he’s sure, get used to hearing his name on Phil Lester’s lips. “Hi. You’re back.”

“Of course! This is my local hangout now,” Phil says, winking. “Great cocktails, cute bar staff, crazy Bingo nights… this place has got it all.”

“Some people might not agree with you about the cocktails,” Dan can’t help himself saying, glancing at Charlie.

Charlie shuffles awkwardly on the spot. “Right,” he says, casting a look at Phil. They share a look that seems loaded with something Dan is not privy to, and then Charlie sighs, turning to Dan. “I wanted to, uh, apologise. About last time. Totally not cool of me to… tell you off like that. I was wasted.”

For an awkward moment, Dan waits for the actual word ‘sorry’ to leave Charlie’s mouth. It becomes obvious fairly swiftly that the dude feels he’s already said enough, so Dan just gives him a tight smile, and clears his throat.

“Oh, yeah man,” he says. “Let’s just… move on, I guess.”

If Charlie won’t say sorry, then Dan’s sure as hell not going to say he forgives him.

“So, drinks?” Phil asks, seeming to sense the taut atmosphere. “Maybe not cocktails?”

Dan can’t help the splutter of laughter, but Charlie shoots a dagger-like glare Phil’s way. It makes Dan’s lip curl; how could anyone be angry with Phil, of all people?

“Maybe some beers?” Dan suggests, teeth clenched. “We have a load of craft beers, or if you’re more into spirits I could make you guys a-”

“I’ll have a vodka and light tonic, no ice,” Charlie interrupts. “A double. If you use regular tonic, I will know.”

“Charlie,” Phil hisses under his breath.

They exchange another loaded look, and again Charlie sighs, turning to Dan with a fake smile. “Please.”

Swallowing the urge to roll his eyes, Dan nods, then gladly turns his attention to Phil. “And for you?”

“Oh,” Phil says, like it’s only just occurred to him that he needs to order as well. “God, I’m so bad at deciding, err…”

As he’s dithering, Charlie sighs. “Are you cool to get these, Phil? I’m gonna go find us a table.”

“You don’t wanna dance?”

“Not in the mood.”

Phil nods, obviously disappointed. “Okay, yeah, I’ll meet you in the back.”

With that, Charlie is gone, slipping into the crowd. The look of distaste must be more evident on Dan’s face than he thinks, because Phil laughs at it.

“I know,” Phil says. “But he does have a few… marginally amiable qualities.”

‘Why have you chosen to be with someone that’s marginally amiable when you’re so great,’ is what Dan wants to ask. Instead, he simply shrugs, deciding to change the subject.

“Have you decided on a drink yet? I’d better get on with making his low-cal dishwater.”

Phil laughs a little, then leans forwards, his smile deepening as he leans across the bar. “Surprise me.”

Something sparks a roman candle in Dan’s stomach, and his skin prickles with the heat it creates. He drags his eyes free of Phil’s with some difficulty, nodding, and turns to make the drinks.

He prepares Phil a ‘PopQueen’ cocktail, which is one of their most popular. It’s inspired by popcorn, along with the trio of Pop Queens that rule the gay music scene: Gaga, RiRi, and Bey. The moscato vodka base is made from Italian grapes to represent Gaga’s heritage, the spiced rum is a shoutout to Bey’s favourite drink, and Riri comes in in the form of a smoky splash of passion fruit bitter. The rest is topped up with popcorn syrup, lemonade, a sprinkle of caramel popcorn kernels, and as many sparkly cocktail sticks as Dan can fit in.

He explains the whole concoction to Phil as he presents it, a little smug because he knows this is an impressive looking cocktail. It’s probably his favourite one to make; the Viniq shimmery moscato vodka makes the drink swirl and shimmer - always exceptionally pretty.

Sure enough, Phil’s mouth drops open at the sight of it. “Okay wow,” Phil says, chuckling. “I’m gonna get drunk tonight, aren’t I?”

“If that’s your plan, this should definitely help you on your way,” Dan says, laughing too. “I wouldn’t recommend having a second if you want to remember your evening.”

Phil leans forwards to take a sip of the PopQueen, moaning around the straw, much to Dan’s dismay. He plucks one of the popcorn pieces off and eats it, eyes closed. In related news, Dan struggles not to fall to the floor. “Dan, you are an artiste,” Phil says. “Popcorn is my all time favourite food.”

“Oh, wow, that’s... lucky, I guess,” Dan stammers, a swell of pride surging up into his chest. “Glad you like it.”

“So, how much?”

“Oh, on the house.” Dan smiles, sliding the cocktail across the bar along with Charlie’s vodka tonic. “I feel bad for not letting you in on the forfeit for Bingo last time.”

The look on Phil’s face softens into something so sweet Dan can taste sugar on his tongue.

“You don’t have to do that,” Phil says softly.

“It’s fine, really,” Dan assures him, all but sliding his elbows across the bar towards him. “I insist.”

A twitch in the corner of Phil’s mouth, and then he’s leaning across the bar. It happens slowly, but Dan still manages to be caught off guard. One moment, he’s watching, bemused, as Phil inches towards him, and the next there’s a light press of paper-soft lips to his cheek. A scratch of stubble grazes over Dan’s skin as Phil leans away.

“Thanks,” Phil tells him, smiling. “You’re sweet, Dan.”

And then he’s turning away, drinks in hand, slipping into the mass of people.

For the next few hours, Dan hopes for Phil to return to the bar for another round. He waits, eagerly, for this moment to come. Instead, Charlie is the one who brings his and Phil’s glasses back over, and waves to flag down Dan’s attention.

He nods in acknowledgement, finishing up the drinks order he’s in the middle of, and sidling over to Charlie. He forces a strained smile.

“Same again?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says, digging out his phone. “And a couple of vodka shots.”

He says nothing else, eyes glued to his phone screen. Dan waits for a moment before moving off, eyes stuck to Charlie’s face. He’s the kind of gorgeous that shouldn’t exist in real life. Unblemished, tanned skin. Clean, dark stubble, lacing his perfect, razorblade jawline. His hair is a swoop of glossy mahogany; even the cut of it looks expensive.

Charlie’s eyes flick up to Dan’s, obviously questioning why he’s staring, so Dan nods, embarrassed, and hurries to make the drinks. From a superficial standpoint, it’s obvious why Phil is with Charlie. Obviously, in Dan’s eyes, Phil is the most attractive man on the planet, but that’s just because he’s Dan’s type. Even he can tell that Charlie is objectively a beautiful human being.

It’s just a shame about everything below the surface level.

Dan pours the two shots Charlie ordered. “All together it’s twenty pounds, please.”

Charlie snorts, then pockets his phone at last. “Figures you’d give Phil the discount.”

He pulls out a twenty and slaps it on the counter.

“Sorry, I can’t give you guys free drinks all night.”

Charlie just stares back at him, a faint, knowing smile caught on his dusty pink lips. One of this thick eyebrows is slightly quirked, sliding an irritation under Dan’s skin. “Listen, Danny, is it?”

“Dan,” he grits.

“Dan,” Charlie says, leaning across the bar. “A little advice, yeah? Don’t be so transparent. It just comes across as pathetic.”

He downs both the shots in quick succession, baffling Dan, who is frozen, mortified, to the spot. Before his brain can thaw enough to stammer out some witty rebuttal, Charlie has swept the drinks off the counter, and is moving away.

Cheeks burning, Dan turns around, trying to calm his boiling blood. He squeezes his fists together, counting to ten, the way he makes himself after all encounters with dickhead customers.

“Hey, sweetcheeks, can we get some drinks over here, please?”

With a deep sigh, Dan unclenches his fists, and turns to the next customer.

At around one in the morning, Dan runs to the bathroom for a minute, and on his way, he sees Charlie. He’s against the wall of the club, near the DJ booth. There’s a muscular, dark-skinned man pressing him there; their faces are close. Dan can’t stop, he’s left Tyler and Dodie to the mercy of the drunks in their worst state - things get rowdy an hour before closing - and he needs to get back there. So, instead, he simply tucks the image away in his mind, to think about later on.

That man, leant against Charlie in a less-than-innocent seeming stance, was certainly not Phil, after all. As he exits the bathroom, he notices that Charlie is gone, as is whoever was with him.

At 1:55am, the lights come on. As usual, an enormous groan chants out of the crowd of patrons on the dance floor, followed by a few pairs awkwardly stepping out of the shadows, some squinting and eye-covering, and the slow, jelly-legged walk to the coat-check area.

“I think I just saw some guy getting up off his knees in the corner,” Tyler says despondently. “Shotgun not mopping the floor tonight.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dan sighs. “On the dance floor? Really? Why can’t they suck each other off in the bathroom like normal people?”

“Oh, there were definitely people doing that in one of the stalls about an hour ago,” someone says to Dan’s right. The voice, for some reason, sends the hairs up on the back of Dan’s neck.

He turns, wondering when Matt’s voice got so low, only to find that Phil has perched himself on one of the bar stools, the dregs of his cocktail still in a glass in front of him. For a moment, Dan is too stunned at the sight of him to reply. Then, he registers that the lights are on, and cringes, knowing he likely looks frightful. Phil, of course, looks radiant as ever even under the harsh fluorescents, apart from a faint tiredness, visible in the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“You’re still here,” Dan comments. “I thought you guys had gone.”

“Charlie left,” Phil says, looking away from Dan. “Or I assume he did.”

Out of sight, Tyler catches Dan’s eye, making an obscene gesture with his hands before snickering and running off in the direction of the supply closet. Dan just glares after him, pink-cheeked, and turns back to Phil.

“Wait, he left without telling you?”

One of Phil’s shoulders moves towards his neck, then falls. “He does that.”

“Wow that’s… kind of shitty.”

As soon as the words are out, Dan regrets them. He can’t help but think of Charlie’s comment from earlier; it rings in his ears as if the guy had screamed it at him.

Don’t be so transparent. It just comes across as pathetic.

He was right, probably, though Dan had hated hearing it. He should stop being such a suck-up. It must be awkward and cringey for Phil to see Dan so obviously smitten.

Still, Phil throws him a faint smile. “It’s cool. He’s just a flaky guy. A bit of a princess. He grew up rich, so he’s always been a bit superficial. I’m trying to wring the bourgeoisie out of his blue blood.”

Dan snorts with laughter. “In my experience, you can’t filter the dickishness out of people very easily.”

There’s a silence, then. Phil regards him with a faintly curious expression.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Dan says once the silence gets too uncomfortable. He shrugs, grabbing the rag from his back pocket and starting to wipe down the bar. “I don’t know the guy, really. I’ve just had a couple of unfortunate experiences with him.”

“Oh no,” Phil says, face falling. “What did he do this time?”

Dan laughs, bitterly. “Don’t worry about it. He’s just a little mouthy, is all.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“So, when do you get to leave this place?” Phil asks, playing with his glass. He still hasn’t drunk the remainder of his cocktail. “Or do you sleep here?”

“On weekdays, the bar closes at two, so I get out of here at around two-thirty.”

“Christ,” Phil mutters. “And I thought my job was long hours.”

A laugh bursts out of Dan’s throat, but he covers it as best he can with a cough, turning away. Busying himself with ‘dusting’ some liquor bottles, Dan tries to compose a straight face. Is Phil honestly going to try and argue that his job is difficult? When was the last time that guy ever grabbed a broom, or handled someone’s sticky change?

In a minute, Dan is going to go into the corner of the dance floor, get down on his knees, and clean up some randomer’s come. A few weeks ago he saw Phil swanning about a five-star hotel in Korea. If AmazingPhil’s worst complaint is that he had to have a few questionable outfit choices put on him, and some silvery goo in his hair, then he needs a reality check.

Nevertheless, Dan knows that he can’t say any of this. Not only would he never dream of insulting Phil Lester, but it’s pointless to try and explain the differences between classes to someone in a privileged position. They’ve usually forgotten how to understand.

“Are you close by, at least?” Phil asks, interrupting Dan’s thoughts.

Dan turns back to him. “Kemptown. It’s half an hour’s walk, more or less.”

“You walk?” Phil asks, eyebrows skyrocketing towards his quiff. “At two in the morning?”

“Five in the morning on weekends,” Dan confirms, hiding a smile at Phil’s surprise. “It’s okay, you get used to it. Besides, it’s mostly just drunk idiots chugging cans of cider and threatening to run into the sea. Not too scary.”

Despite Dan’s reassurance, the look of pity and concern on Phil’s face doesn’t subside. After a while, Dan turns from it, feeling awkward. He busies himself with clearing away the last of the empty glasses, yawning into the crook of his elbow. Tonight was rough.

“You should crash at mine,” Phil blurts.

Sure he must have misheard, Dan faces Phil slowly. “Um, what?”

“If you’re exhausted, I mean.” Phil fidgets, fingers tapping against his glass. “Like, on the nights you can’t face walking all the way home, you can totally just sleep on my sofa.”

Speechless, Dan simply stares.

“The couch is pretty comfy,” Phil continues in a ramble, not meeting Dan’s eye. “And my flat is just up the road, literally like a minute away. I’m not saying, y’know, come over every night, ‘cause obviously… that might be an issue, but you can absolutely stay round on, say, Saturday nights when you finish later. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

He’s just being nice. That’s Dan’s only explanation. Phil Lester is a sweetheart of a person, and he got so worried about the hypothetical danger involved in Dan’s walks home, that he offered something big, even though he didn’t really mean it.

Dan is a stranger to him. He needs to decline the polite offer, and let Phil off the hook he accidentally created to string himself up on.

So, Dan forces out a small chuckle, and says: “Oh, no, it’s really fine. Thanks for the offer, that’s really good of you, but I quite like the walk. It’s a nice come down after a busy night.”

Phil nods, chewing his lip. He looks unconvinced. “I’m not just saying it, though.” His voice has dropped to a lower tone. “Like tonight… you’re so tired, I can see it. Just grab some sleep at mine before you head back across town.”

As soon as Phil mentions it, the quilt of his own exhaustion flops around his shoulders, dragging Dan’s bones towards the floor. He tries to picture the stumble back to his crummy flat in Kemptown, loathing each imaginary step.

“You barely know me,” Dan says - one last attempt at refusal.

Sensing he’s won, Phil smiles very slightly, then downs the rest of his cocktail at last. “I don’t know if it’s just me, Dan, but I have this feeling that we’re going to be good friends.”

(Part 4!)

#phan #phanfic #bartender au #phanfiction

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cali-holland · 7 years ago

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New York- Peter Parker One Shot

Pairing: Peter Parker X Actress!Reader

Prompt: You are a famous actress, and Peter’s celebrity crush. Sparks fly between the two of you when you visit New York.

Word Count: 2000

Masterlist Peter Parker Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

You hated New York- the city was too busy, too cold, just all too much for you. Maybe if you were a normal teenager you could imagine actually living there- and bearing it too- but you weren’t normal. You were an internationally famous actress and, this week, you were required to be in the dreaded city for filming reshoots. As a busy actress, you struggled with finding time for yourself; yet, somehow, you managed to slip away from your security team and leave set during your break.

You wandered your way down the bustling streets in search of shop to give you peace of mind. Entering the most interesting store in the strip, you tugged your baseball cap down and removed your designer sunglasses. You browsed around, unbothered by the other shoppers around you. For a moment, you felt normal- but only for a moment.

“Oh my God, you’re her! You’re Y/N Y/L/N!” A teenage girl squealed upon seeing you. You felt all eyes in the store fall on you.

“Yes, I am.” You smiled, concealing your sadness about being discovered. A group of teenagers began to flock around you.

“Can I have a picture? You’re my favorite actress!” She asked, holding up her phone.

“Aw, thank you. I’d love to take a photo with you.” You replied, posing for the photo. You posed for more as your fans lined up.

“I’ve got to get going. Have a nice day, everyone.” You smiled as you left the store, knowing a much larger mass would appear within a few minutes. Your cover was blown, and your day was ruined. Wanting to get away from it all, you ducked into an alley. You knew it normally would be a horrible idea- a teenager girl alone in an alley- but with the sun shining brightly above you and a buzz of people on the lining streets, you felt that it was safe enough.

“Well done, Y/N. You snuck off set and got all but attacked by your own fans.” You sighed as you sat down on the cold cement.

You jumped at the sound of a thud nearby. You were quick to your feet as you looked toward the source of the noise. A teenage boy was on the ground, clutching his knee.

“I’m sorry!” He squeaked out in embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just walked into the garbage can.”

“Are you okay?” You asked, holding out a hand to help him stand. He took it and steadied himself against the wall, trying to keep as much weight off his now bruised leg as possible.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He replied, “But I could ask you the same thing.”

“Oh, I was just thinking.” You stated, awkwardly, “My life’s been pretty hard lately.”

“How hard can the life of a superstar be?” The stranger joked with a laugh, trying to ease the tension.

“You know who I am?” You replied.

“Everyone knows who the famous Y/N Y/L/N is.” He explained, making you blush.

“Well, superstardom isn’t everything it’s glammed up to be. I hardly have any control over my schedule. I ran off set today just to have a day off, but that didn’t go according to plan.”

“I’m sorry. It sounds rough.”

“Yeah, and, like you said, everyone knows who I am. I can’t go anywhere without someone wanting a picture.” You said.

“You’ve got me.” He spoke up, making you look at him confused, “I haven’t asked for a picture or autograph. You’re gorgeous and talented, but you’re a person.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” You asked, making his smooth demeanor fade away as his cheeks heated up. He cleared his throat before responding.

“That’s all you took from that?”

“Yes. I don’t even know your name, but you’re already my favorite person in New York.”

“Peter. My name is Peter Parker.” He said, holding out a hand to you.

“Well, Peter, would you like a picture before I have to leave?” You asked.

“I can’t actually. My phone’s dead.” Peter let out a nervous laugh.

“Then my phone it is.” You smiled, pulling out the camera to take a picture with him- the first person to make you feel normal. You said goodbye to Peter and headed back to your movie set. Unbeknownst to you, Peter changed into his Spider-Man suit after you left and followed you from the rooftops. His heart fluttered as he realized he just flirted with his celebrity crush- where did that courage come from?

~~~

The night continued on for both you and Peter, yet the two of you couldn’t keep your minds of each other. You pondered if you would ever see him again; you wanted to look into his brown eyes again. And he couldn’t refrain himself from telling Ned about meeting you, discussing every detail about the encounter with his best friend. He was enchanted and starstruck, he couldn’t think straight.

The next day rolled around and Peter fell back into his dull world of school. On their way to the Academic Decathlon meeting, Peter walked with Ned and conversed about the latest Stark invention Peter had worked on.

“That’s so cool, and it’s holographic too!” Ned smiled at the thought. Peter was cut short from responding when Liz came bounding up to him.

“Peter! Did you really meet Y/N?” She asked eagerly.

“Please, Liz. We all know brainiac just hacked her account and uploaded a photoshopped pic.” Flash piped in, not moving from his seat at an empty table.

“What-” Peter began to question them as Liz showed him a tweet from 20 minutes ago. It was the photo of you and him from yesterday; you had posted it with the caption ‘I met the sweetest guy ever yesterday. Can you help me find him?’.

“That’s you, right, Peter?” Liz questioned.

“Dude, oh my God!” Ned cheered.

“Um, y-yeah that’s me.” Peter nodded.

“You met her? What was she like?” Liz’s response called everyone, except for Flash, over in interest.

“How’d you meet her?” “What did you do?” “Was she sweet?” “Is she actually that beautiful?” “Are you going to respond?” There were so many questions coming at him, Peter had to take a step back from the chaos.

“We just ran into each other on the street and we talked.” Peter explained quickly.

“Peter, you have to respond!” Liz insisted.

“How do we know Penis Parker is telling the truth? We still don’t know if he actually knows Spider-Man.” Flash stated.

“I’ll respond, but I’ll do it in private.” Peter said, as the group dispersed.

“That’s only ‘cause you’re a chicken.” Flash teased, “We know you’re bluffing, that’s why you won’t message her in front of us.”

“Don’t let him get to you.” Ned told Peter on the way to their seats.

“I won’t.” He shook his head.

~~~

Peter waited patiently that night. After telling Aunt May all about you, he had responded to you, sending you a quick message of ‘this is Peter’. He knew it was lame, but he didn’t know quite what to say. He just wanted to have yesterday’s confidence back. His phone dinged and he almost flew across the room to grab it.

‘Hi, Peter! How was your day?’ You asked, making casual conversation. Peter waited a few seconds before responding.

‘Not too bad. And yours? I hope it was better than yesterday.’

‘Yesterday was great because I met you.’ At your response, Peter’s heart dropped.

“May!” Peter called for his aunt and she came bursting into his room immediately.

“Are you okay?” She asked, worried.

“I don’t know. Look!” He handed her his phone with the message pulled up.

“Oh Peter.” She smiled, fondly as she read over the few messages. “Ask her out.”

“What? May, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You are Peter Parker. Now, ask that girl out. It sounds like she really likes you.”

“But, May, she’s-”

“Do it, or I will.” May teasingly threatened, giving him his phone back. He sighed and typed out his next message,

‘Yeah, I enjoyed yesterday. Are you free tomorrow night?’ Tomorrow would be a Friday, an appropriate night for a first date, or so he thought.

“How exciting! Peter, you’re going on a date!” May smiled eagerly as he blushed.

“She hasn’t responded yet-” As soon as the words left his mouth, his phone dinged again.

‘As a matter of fact, I am.’

“Go on, go on.” His aunt urged.

‘Would you like to go out for dinner then?’ Hitting send, Peter inhaled a sharp breath and May squealed.

‘I’d love that.’

“Yes! You have to take her to that nice Italian restaurant a block away. I’ll get your dress shirt to the dry cleaners in the morning-” May rambled on excitedly as she hurried down the hall to prepare. Peter sighed dreamily- he had a date with his celebrity crush and he had no clue how.

~~~

Because of your celebrity status, you asked Peter if the date could be simple and private, which led to it taking place at Peter’s apartment. May hid in her room as you and Peter conversed over several different subjects. With Peter, you could be yourself and not have a care in the world- you absolutely loved it.

Unfortunately, your phone rang in the middle of eating a brownie sundae for dessert. You excused yourself as you picked it up. You sighed, hearing the familiar voice of your manager. After a quick exchange, you hung up and turned to Peter.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, worried you weren’t enjoying yourself.

“Not really.” You confessed, “My manager wants me back because we’ve got an early shoot in the morning. I need my ‘beauty sleep’.” You placed air quotes around the silly phrase.

“Want me to walk you to the hotel? So you don’t have to hail a cab?” Peter offered, standing up from the table.

“Sure.” You smiled.

“One moment.” He said, going off to grab his shoes and a jacket.

“I had fun tonight, Peter.” You stated when the two of you got outside.

“Really? I was hoping the small apartment wouldn’t throw it off.” Peter admitted.

“No, it didn’t. It’s homey- I like that.”

“Homey?” He asked with a laugh.

“Homey. It’s a normal apartment, you actually live in it. It’s homey.” The two of you shared a laugh before you changed the topic, “You know, after these reshoots, I’ll have to go back to L.A..”

“Oh,” Peter replied. The thought of you living across the country had never occurred to him before.

“But New York’s been growing on me, and my parents are considering buying an apartment out here for me. I mean it’d be in Soho or Manhattan, but I could still see you.”

“Wait,” Peter stopped in his path and turned to you, “You’d leave Los Angeles for me?”

“Oh, well,” You blushed, realizing how bad your words must have sounded. You were just teengagers and the first date hadn’t even ended, plus you just met him two days ago. You nervously pushed some hair behind your ear, “I have to come out here a lot for work anyway. It’d just be easier, ya know?”

“Right.” He nodded and the two of you continued walking.

“I know this sounds crazy, but, Peter, I really like you. You make me feel normal- I haven’t felt that in years.”

“Really?” He asked, surprised by your confession. You smiled shyly and nodded, “Well, I mean, I really like you too, but don’t you think it’s a bit far-fetched? You’re a renowned actress and I’m just me, a boy from Queens.”

“Are you trying to say you’re not good enough for me? I’m telling you right now, you are. I don’t care what the media will think. We don’t have to listen to them.” You replied. Peter’s hesitant look remained until you slipped your hand into his.

And that was how Peter became one of the most popular people at school: dating a high-end actress that every teenager in Queens aspired to be. As for you, you really started to like New York.

~~~ Tag List: @gray-rose13 @cutefluffy89 @flammy-whater @ria132love

#peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #mcu peter parker #marvel

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stupid-jeans · 7 years ago

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how to return home ch4 (Jalton)

Sunday night update: So, I lied. AO3 lied to me. What it told me was chapter 4 (unpublished) was actually just a duplicate of 3. I’m so sorry for the confusion and those who thought they had two chapters to read! :( Thank you all for the amazing feedback, as always. I’m so glad you’re enjoying! Off to work on the next chapter of madness game and then I assume the next chapter of this will be up sometime midweek.

Over on AO3

Chapter summary/Notes: Gavin and Jaz reflect on Elijah. Jaz and Adam have a few late night chats. This chapter is solidly in "T" territory. My lovely beta, @undercoverwatermoon's first comment on this was "Oh my GOD" so take that as you wish.

After dinner, the melancholy sets in. Not really for her, but it's coming off of Gavin in waves. Jaz leads him out onto the porch and sinks down in the swing, leaning against his side.

"You know he'd be really proud of you,” she murmurs. "It would've been so damn easy for us to give up without him."

"He would've been pissed. Can you imagine?" Gavin asks, laughing through tears.

"Yeah, he would've," Jaz agrees, pressing closer to him. "You know that song was the first one we ever sang together?" It's been a while since she revisited this particular memory, but it feels appropriate now, even with the lump it brings to her throat.

"I did know that," Gavin says, sliding his arm around her shoulders. "But you should tell me again."

Though she’s told it multiple times, the story never fails to lift her spirits. She tells him about the first day in Incirlik. Adam had met her at the airstrip and driven her back to their little hut on the base's edge. Elijah had been dancing around with McG in his arms, serenading him and expecting McG to sing his part, which he had zero apparent interest in doing. Begrudgingly, McG had sung, but he'd screwed up all the words causing Jaz to casually remark, "That's not how it goes." Elijah had looked at her like she was his long lost soulmate. They'd never looked back.

"He called me the next day," Gavin says. "To tell me all about this amazing girl. Almost made me jealous."

"You never had a damn thing to worry about. He loved you more than anything. I never even knew something like that was possible," Jaz admits, smiling despite the threat of tears.

"But now you know.” He kisses the top of her head, just like Elijah used to do and lets the quiet settle a bit before speaking again. “So, you think that's something you could have with Adam?"

"That's jumping, like, so many steps ahead," Jaz groans.

"Well, that's not exactly a 'no', so I'll take it," Gavin laughs. "Just do me a favor and don't let this pass you by without some serious thought, okay? I know it’s not a clear cut situation, but that's love, you know?"

Under any other circumstances, coming from literally anyone else, she would balk at the word. But she's safe here and it's not entirely wrong, so she just sighs.

"Yeah, okay."

It's nearly 3am when her phone goes off, just a quiet buzz under her pillow, but Jaz startles awake with a racing heart. The remnants of the nightmare still linger as she glances at her phone, squinting against the light.

Adam. You up?

I am now she nearly shoots back sarcastically, but he’s reaching out to her and it’s kind of a big deal. She just calls him instead.

"Hey. You didn't have to call."

"You say that like it's a chore. Last I checked, we're on leave and you can't boss me around. Maybe I just missed talking to you," she murmurs, the cold edge of her nightmare fading at the familiar warmth of his voice.

"I am not bossy. You want bossy, I'll put McG in charge for a week and you can see how that goes," he chuckles. He still sounds tired.

"Mmm, no, I think I'll keep you. Devil you know and all that," she says, stifling a yawn and rolling onto her back. The stars on the ceiling aren't anywhere near as brilliant or as vast as the ones outside, but they're comforting all the same.

"Aw, shucks. You really know how to make a guy feel special. Sorry I woke you."

"You didn't." Of course he would know.

"Liar," he says, mocking their earlier conversation.

"It was a nightmare anyway. So I should be thanking you." Admitting it feels easier than keeping up the lie.

"Wanna talk about it?" he offers.

Jaz knows she can turn him down and he'll drop it. But sharing with him has become almost second nature.

"I was back in Tehran...and he told me you were dead- showed me - and I didn't believe him. And then they brought me Elijah's head." Just saying it makes her queasy, and the words sour on her tongue. "God."

"You're alright," he promises, calm and steady like always. "Just breathe a second, yeah?"

Jaz does, in through her nose and out through her mouth, until the nausea subsides.

"You with me?" Adam asks and she nods before realizing he can't see her.

"Yeah, I'm here. Talk to me? How's Patton?" The dog is a safe topic for both of them.

"He's having the time of his life. I have no idea how I'm gonna bring him back to Turkey after this," Adam says. "Hang on."

She waits, wondering what the hell she's waiting for until her phone goes off in her hand and there's a picture of Patton passed out on Adam's chest; Adam's bare chest. Jaz swallows. It's not like she hasn't seen him shirtless a thousand times, but somehow having a picture makes it seem considerably more intimate.

"You're spoiling him. At this rate, we're gonna have to get him his own bed," she teases, impressed with herself for not letting on.

"Probably. But I'm a sucker."

"You are. It's kind of adorable," Jaz says, and then promptly smacks herself in the forehead because what kind of stupid fucking comment was that? "I mean he's adorable."

"You know, I don't think anyone's called me adorable since I was a kid," he laughs, ignoring her attempt at a save.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. This is what happens when you wake me up in the middle of the night," she mutters.

"You have no filter? I'll have to wake you up more often, then," Adam says. "I'm sorry. I should let you go."

The rapid backtrack takes Jaz a second to process.

"No, don't. Why'd you text me, anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep. That's all."

Jaz knows, without asking, exactly the kind of demons keeping him awake. She also knows that he's not ready to talk about them yet. These particular demons are fresh; too close to the surface to risk putting them into words just now. Instead, she hums and curls up on her side, figuring there's exactly one thing that might help.

"Stay on the phone with me?" she asks.

The relief is tangible in his voice when he agrees. She doesn't let herself drift off again until Adam's breathing evens out. It’s comforting to know he’s there, even through the tinny echo of the call.

In the morning, the call is still going. It hasn't been that long since they fell asleep (the counter on her phone says it's been 4 hours and 37 minutes), and Adam's still sound asleep. Jaz disconnects the call and slips out of bed to go for a run.

Like yesterday, there's breakfast and Gavin is waiting when she comes home. The predictability and the routine of it all set her at ease in a way nothing else has in a long time. She figures maybe this is what home is supposed to feel like. She’s so grateful to Elijah for giving this to her.

The routine starts to include Adam, somehow. Instead of falling asleep and waiting for him to cave at 3am, Jaz starts calling Adam when she goes to bed for the night. They talk about his day; boating, fishing and hiking with Patton. They also talk about hers. The ridiculous Walmart fashion shows - courtesy of Gavin- gardening and cooking with Connie; going shooting with Dale.

"Family looks good on you, Jazzy," he says. It’s been a week of bedtime chats that end with them falling asleep together, hundreds of miles apart.

"You can't even see me," she points out, teasing. "Besides, I have a family already. With the team."

"You know what I mean. I can tell you're happy there, is all. And I'm glad. You deserve it. But I do miss seeing you."

She feels her cheeks warm.

"I miss seeing you too," she murmurs.

"But see, you have a picture of me, and I don't have one of you," he says. It’s the closest thing to flirting he's said all week.

"Um, last I checked, I had a picture of the damn dog, not you," Jaz scoffs at him.

"That can be fixed."

"Why don't you just ask me what I'm wearing?" she challenges, not sure where the bravery is coming from. Maybe it's all of Gavin's goading.

"What're you wearing?" She's heard him in all kinds of situations, but not like this. Even as an exaggerated tease, his voice is dizzying and warm. Suddenly all she can think about is kissing him. She can still taste his mouth; still feel the faint tickle of his beard. She must make some kind of sound, because she hears his breathing go a little ragged in her ear. It's enough to bring her back from memory land.

"Nothing," she purrs, intentionally seductive in a way she reserves purely for playing a part and nothing more. And it's a total lie. But it'll get Adam back just a little bit.

"Jaz," he says, clearly amused but a little flustered.

"You asked."

"Pics or it didn't happen. Isn't that what the kids are saying these days?" he asks, and that he's not backing down has her a little rattled herself.

She's not a selfie person. To the best of her knowledge, she's never taken one. But she poses sort of awkwardly in the warm light of the bedside table lamp, stretched out on the bed in her wife beater and shorts; something he's seen her in a million times before. Jaz sends the picture before she can change her mind. Self-conscious isn't something she does, but right now, things feel different. Intimate, like the shirtless picture of him with the dog. The one she's looked at more than a few times.

"Liar," he murmurs again, and it takes a few seconds for her brain to catch up.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she laughs softly, trying to remember the last time she felt like this; flirty and carefree.

"You have never disappointed me," he says, suddenly serious.

"I know."

That night, she dreams about waking up in his bed, in his arms, with his lips on her neck. She wakes up flushed and panting, blankets in a heap on the floor. The phone is discarded next to her with the call already disconnected. Jaz can't help but wonder if he dreamed of her, too. She really, really hopes so.

#jalton #the brave nbc #my fic

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nautiscarader · 7 years ago

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Wendip Week 2017 day 2: Time travel

The greatest stories of the past can be found in simplest of places... second, simple story for Wendip Week. Apologies if the story feels a bit rushed, I had to write and finish it within one day.

Wendy and Dipper's kid, Tyrone was inspired by a character of the same name from @elentori-art's brilliant artwork (x). It’s set in the same “au” as one of my earlier work (x)

(My fanfiction masterpost) (Read on Ao3) (Read on FF)

- That takes me back in time...

Now that was a phrase that grabbed Tyrone Pines' attention. And it was spoken by his dad, so, while odd-sounding, it must have be true. But then, could it be true?

- Dad? What do you mean?

Tyrone Pines walked hastily to the sofa his father was relaxing on with - no surprises there - a large book in his hands. Without waiting for his answer, Tyrone climbed onto the sofa and crawled into his dad's arms, eager to see the book he was holding. It was a nice, large book with lots of pictures inside, and a hard, brown cover.

- Hey, there, champ. What did you ask about? - What does "take back in time" mean? Can you go back in time?

Tyrone's wide eyes shrunk when his dad chuckled, giving his hair a bit of a ruffle. This usually meant Tyrone was wrong, simply because he didn't know enough adult words, or that he mistook one for another.

- No, it's just a saying. It means that you start remembering things from your past, like these, see?

An album! Of course, mom and dad often browsed through them, usually the ones with his pictures inside it. This one seemed similar at first - it looked like it contained lots of pictures of him, except Tyrone could not remember any of them being taken. Even stranger, the boy in pictures looked older than he was. Could his father have pictures of him from the future?

And then it struck him - the hair! It wasn't red, like his mom's, but chestnut, very much like his...

- Dad, is that you? - Of course. And can you recognise this sweater-wearing lady?

He pointed to the girl eagerly staring into the lenses of the camera, so much so she made half of the picture blurry.

- Auntie Mabel! She's everywhere! - Yeah, no one could ever stop her then, and no one can stop her now.

Tyrone flipped a couple of pages, finding more glitter-covered pictures of his aunt, and a few, less decorative ones, of his dad.

- Where's mom? - These are from before we even heard about Gravity Falls, I think. Look, I don't even have my cap anywhere. - he shuffled through the sturdy pages - I only met your mom when we arrived here for a summer. Dunno if she brought any of her pics though...

Dad passed the album, and reached to the bookcase next to the sofa, giving Tyrone chance to see more pics of Dad's younger self. The two were remarkably similar, aside the hair colour, so much so that Tyrone had to actively remind that he hasn't looking at himself. Some of the pics showed his dad amongst books, or toys, some in garden, playing with Auntie Mabel in his grandaprent's old house.

- Uh, I think mom has her album at her dad's house. After all, she has three brothers. - his dad stated after checking the bookcase - You wanna see more pictures of me and mom?

Tyrone eagerly nodded and moved aside, when Dad brought not one, but three thick albums with him.

- Yeah, we got a bit photo-crazy at some point. Well, Mabel did, she wanted to take all sorts of pictures once me and your mom started dating.

The first album looked very similar to the one Tyrone has seen already, aside from the brown, cap that at some point made its way to his dad's head. And then, out of the blue, the theme of the photography has changed. There were less and less of the twins in the pictures, and more and more images of forests and familiar-looking mountains. After a couple of pages more, images of a few familiar people appeared, bringing a smile back to Tyrone's face.

- That's grandpa Stan! And Soos! - That was our first visit here. - his dad nodded - We didn't know grunkle Stan that well back then, so he's gonna be mostly grumpy here.

And indeed, some of the pics showed grandpa Stan in, well, less than appealing poses, or with lots of grimaces on his already wrinkled face. The young version of Soos, on the other hand looked... pretty much like the same big, cuddly fellow Tyrone knew already. But then the subject of the pictures changed again, finally giving Tyrone what he wanted to see.

- That's mom! - Yep, that's her. - his dad sighed, staring at a profile photograph of his mom, relaxing on a bench during a warm, sunny day - You can imagine why I fell for her, can you? - Her hair is pretty... - Tyrone whispered, flipping pages again. - Yeah, you are right. And look, here we are with Mabel.

On the next photograph, his mom was leaning casually on the wooden wall of Mystery Shack, with his dad and Auntie on both her sides. Only now, with all of them in one picture, Tyrone noticed a rather large detail he wasn't aware of so far.

- Dad, why is mom so much taller? - Well, she's older than me. I was twelve, or thirteen, and she was fifteen already. You're gonna shoot up when you're that age too. - his dad paused - Your grandma was a bit baffled by the age gap, though. - Why? - Tyrone asked - Do you have to be the same age to marry? - No, it's just a bit unusual when a boy is younger than a girl. I guess. - he paused again. - Come to think, her arguments never really made sense to us. We were dating, and we didn't care. Glad she understood that.

His dad must have been in love with mom for a very long time, Tyrone realised. Lots of pictures showed her with his dad and Auntie, some with grandpa Stan and Soos, and some with lots of other, young people he has never seen before.

- That's Lee, and Thompson, Wendy's friends from high school. - his dad started counting. - That's Nate, another one, that's Robbie, he was your mom's first boyfriend. That's Tambry, these two got married in the end... - Boyfriend? - Yeah. When you start dating, you call your sweetheart a boyfriend of a girlfriend. - I know, dad. - Tyrone stressed - But... Mom dated other people? - Sure she did.

Tyrone hasn't felt that puzzled in a long time. He knew that you have to meet your future wife at some point, but he was sure the road from there was pretty straightforward, even though he wasn't sure what that "road" was. The prospect of his mom dating, and possibly *kissing* other men than dad, on the other hand, was absolutely unthinkable! Not that kissing in general didn't make him a bit squeamish to begin with, despite his parents' assertions that "he will change your mind at some point".

- So she wasn't your girlfriend then? - No, of course not. Though that didn't stop me from being in love with her. - he winked

His dad took the album from his hands, and replaced it with a second one.

- I think that's our... third and fourth visit here... Oh, and even fifth. - he stated, looking at the dates on the first page. - I think we started dating somewhere then.

The pictures inside this album looked wildly different to the previous ones: his father was much taller and his chin was covered with patches of hair he called "a goatee"; Auntie Mabel had different hair style in practically every shot, often mimicking her friends, Grenda and Candy that Tyron vaguely remembered from one of the slightly odd and boring get-togethers. His mom looked oddly similar, if not for the fact that in many pictures she was making googly eyes to his father in the same way he was making to her.

- Yeah, there we are. I think it was our second date. Don't have pictures from the first one, the tiger smashed the camera. - A tiger? - Yeah, a sabre-toothed one. We still don't know where it came from, but boy we were sad that he ripped it to shreds. - Why? Why would he do that? - I think it's because we didn't ask him if we can take pictures of him. Tigers don't like paparazzi. Oh, it mean people, who make photos whether you like it or not. - he quickly added. - He's not talking to us anymore. Shame, he was a funny guy.

Another couple of pages went by with more pictures of his dad and mom in odd dating spots, as well as the increasing number of kissing scenes, which only made Tyrone avert his eyes in embarrassment. Noticing that, his dad took another album, and browsed through it to show him something less smoochy.

- There, look, our Halloween costumes. - he started - You know, at some point I wasn't that keen on dressing up in those, but your auntie told me there's nothing wrong with it. - Of course there isn't. - Tyrone was quick to respond - Why did you want to stop doing it? - Well, I thought that it was silly, since I was too old... I wanted to impress your mom, you see. - he spoke softly - Actually, most of these pictures could be labeled that. And I was a bit of a dummy to think that she will like me more if I'm gonna pretend to be someone else. That could be a title of many of these as well...

The pictures showed his dad in costumes, usually matching the ones his sister was wearing, with mom and Soos often appearing next to them.

- See? We used to go as pirates, king and a queen, cowboys... That's more what you wanted, right? And look, here we are in different countries!

Another set of pictures showed weird buildings, people in different clothes (including his mom and dad!), and unusual, sometimes otherworldly-looking landscapes. As if by magic, dozens of untold adventures unfolded in front of Tyrone's eyes, making his head spin. He was travelling through time, faster than he ever though he would, watching his parents and family transform and change, while still retaining the same eyes and smiles he was so used to. And at the same time, all he wanted was to hear more about the amazing life his dad and mom had before he was born.

- So, what you guys are up to?

A sudden, clam and warm voice shifted Tyrone's attention from the avalanche of questions he had, making him raise his hands into the air nearly instantaneously, waiting for his mom to pick him up.

- Mom! Look what we found! - Yeah, heard you all the way from the garden. - his mom said, taking him into her arms. - Your dad is a sentimental one, and you seem to be like him. - Hey, I just like documenting stuff. - he replied - Besides, how could I miss that opportunity?

He spread the pages of the album again, showing a photo of his mom sticking her tongue to the camera, and rolling her eyes in a comedic fashion.

- See? True beauty only Oregon can provide. - Shush, or I will show him your pictures. - Tyrone's mom warned her husband - The one from your mom. - You wouldn't - dad yelped, his eyes widening in horror - Works every time. Now, Tyrone, It's already 7, you should go to bed. - Mom, can't we stay a bit late? - Tyrone pleaded - We were having fun with the photographs! - We can all browse them tomorrow. - she said, giving him a kiss on forehead. - Mom is gonna sit with you tomorrow, and we will see how many times your dad was making stuff up, okay?

Trying to contain giggling, Tyrone nodded and ran to the bathroom, wondering what great stories will his mom tell him the next day. He already learned way more about his parents he expected, so the prospect of getting more tidbits about their lives already made him hyped up. With his head buzzing with ideas, the evening bath passed in a blink of an eye, and Tyrone quickly found himself tucked in his bed, ready to dream about the adventures his parents are going to tell him about tomorrow.

Having helped Tyrone with the evening routine, Wendy entered the living room, now filled with even more orange light from the bulbs, creating a familiar, cozy atmosphere. Just like her son before, she jumped into Dipper's arms, who was still browsing the albums that made this evening so much longer.

- So, are we ever going to tell him? - Dipper asked, giving his wife a quick peck, and gently stroking her hair - He's as nosy as you or me, so I have a feeling he's going to find it on his own. - Wendy replied dreamily, snuggling into Dipper's shoulder - It will be a bit difficult though, you know. A ruler is not as cool as all the other time machines he saw in comics and movies. - Don't you wish we kept it, though? - Wendy asked - We could be going to all sorts of times and places... - Nah, I think we're fine the way we are, frankly. - Dipper confided - And what do you think? - I think you're just jealous that the crew chose me to be their pirate captain and you were just a deck hand. - Wendy replied sharply, flipping the album back to the picture of them in their pirate "costumes".

#wendip #wendipweek #wendip week #wendy x dipper #dipperxwendy #gravity falls #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #time travel

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kinetic-elaboration · 7 years ago

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The Girl in the Graveyard

Jasper/Maya, Modern AU, ~2,800 words

Read below or on AO3.

Jasper’s phone buzzes three times before he’s even finished lacing up his shoes, but he doesn’t glance at it until he’s pulled on his jacket and grabbed his keys, until he’s halfway down the front walk to the street.

The first message is from Monty, predictably. All it says is where r u??

The second is from Miller: This party has officially reached must-be-here status stop missing out.

And from Raven: Took roll and u were missing. What’s up????

He doesn’t answer any of them, just shoves his phone back in his pocket and shrugs his shoulders up to his ears. Somehow, without him noticing, late afternoon has turned into early dusk. The sky is light gray distorted by darker gray clouds, and the morning’s wind has knocked another flurry of burnt orange and red leaves down from the trees. He toes through them, sending them rushing up over his sneakers in little gusts, and plans out his route to Clarke’s. Twenty minutes by his usual path, give or take. Not that long. Not long at all.

His phone buzzes again.

Two pics in quick succession: one of Miller, Bryan, Raven, Octavia, and Harper dancing; the second of Clarke playing quarters—and winning, apparently, Bellamy standing next to her looking reluctantly impressed. Then a text: Bellamy is here and Miller is dancing. COME OVER.

“Thanks, Monty,” he mumbles, and is about to put his phone back when another message appears.

just take the shortcut

Jasper shakes his head hard. The worst decision the Jordans ever made was buying a house next to a cemetery, and not just because any number of manifestations of the undead could be right outside his window on any given night. Because the cemetery is between him and everything: school, most of his friends’ houses, the movie theater, the Mexican place with the good guacamole. But it doesn’t matter how relentlessly Monty teases him about it, he’s not stepping through those gates. Not for the party of the century, not even for the party of the millennium.

no way he shoots back.

He waits a moment, and then:

judging you so hard right now

What a surprise.

He’s about to type out a response when the words ghosts aren’t real pop up on his screen.

that’s what they want you to think

For a few moments, he’s sure the conversation’s been dropped and he can continue on his way, walking all the faster for not having to type, when he hears another buzz.

Raven and Octavia are inventing a new dance and Lincoln and Clarke are having an art-off

And at that point, he’s pretty sure that the rest of his walk will be nothing but guilt-inducing text-updates unless he cuts through ghost-town, so he hesitates, right at the crossroads of, on the one hand, continuing straight and walking around, and on the other, turning left and cutting through.

He bounces up and down on his heels a few times, thinking. Then—

ok I’ll be there in ten

that’s my boy

Okay, he tells himself, as he jumps over the low stone wall that rings the graveyard, the one he always tells himself keeps the ghosts safely fenced in. Okay, okay, okay, okay. You’re fine it’s all good okay cool.

This mantra takes him about ten feet down the path into the heart of the undead before the words okay and fine start to lose all meaning. Then he stops himself up short and forces himself to look around. It’s true that nothing weird has happened yet. The cemetery’s totally empty at this hour—just him and the dead, safely under the earth, right where they should be—and utterly still, not even a breeze to rustle the leaves or send the bare tree branches waving. Yes, it’s unnerving that he can hear his own heart beating in his ears. But that’s not exactly evidence of the supernatural. Probably. He darts his gaze to the left, then to the right, but sees nothing more ominous than a long row of neat, square tombstones and, at the end of the row next to the path, a bench.

And a girl, sitting on the bench.

Which is a bit of a surprise.

She's about his age, he'd guess, maybe sixteen or seventeen, and pretty. So pretty. Something maybe the slightest bit off about her—maybe it's that her blue sundress and sandals seem too summery for the season, or that her hair style and the way she places her hands in her lap seem old-fashioned, impossibly careful and precise. Maybe it's how still she's sitting, how perfectly she's posed. He watches for several long moments before he sees her slowly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Then, as if distracted, as if suddenly aware of a slight noise or a movement barely visible in the corner of her eye, she looks up. She looks up and right at him.

He jumps—that’s real, she really startled him, and when her gaze meets his a shiver runs down his arms and back and goosebumps rise up on his skin—then makes a joke of it. He exaggerates looking over each shoulder and then pointing to himself, like he’s wondering if she’s really focused on him, or on someone else, some invisible person in this empty, quiet graveyard where they are, all alone.

She smiles, like she actually thinks he’s funny.

It’s a little unexpected and a little great and for a moment, he completely forgets where he is, because the pretty girl is standing up and walking over to him.

“Hey,” he says, raising one hand in a nervous approximation of a wave. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to stare. I just didn’t expect to see anyone else out here tonight.”

“Neither did I,” the girl answers. “I guess you startled me a bit.” Then she holds out her hand and adds, “I’m Maya.”

“Jasper.” Her hand in his sends another shiver through him, just like the one he felt when he first caught sight of her on the bench, but he still draws back only with reluctance. “Ah—cold hands. Do you want my jacket…?”

He starts to shrug it off but she shakes her head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m not cold. My hands are always like that.” She fiddles with the buttons on her sweater. “Low vitamin D.”

It’s a weird thing to say but he pretends it’s not, just pulls his jacket back on and tries to be casual. Totally cool. Then, to have something to say: “I bet we're the only two people in the whole cemetery.”

He doesn’t mean it to sound flirty and he really, really doesn’t mean it to sound creepy—which he realizes almost immediately that it probably does, coming from some random guy she’s only known for thirty seconds. He's just so glad to see another human being. He’s so relieved to realize he’s not alone with the dead, waiting for the first appearance of the undead.

Maya doesn’t seem weirded out, though. She only shoots him a friendly smile and answers, “I think that means we should walk together.” Then she links her arm through his, which, quite honestly, is much more than he ever thought would happen.

Jasper’s still trying to get his tongue to work enough to form words—words hopefully somewhere in the vicinity of cool—when Maya says, “I thought I was the only one who liked spending my evenings in places like this.”

“You might be.” He glances over at her, then adds, “I’m just taking a short cut. I live back there,” he nods his head back in the direction of his house, “and I’m heading to a party at my friend Clarke’s house. She throws these big Halloween bashes every year. They’re kind of legendary.”

"A Halloween party? And what's your costume?" She reaches up and taps at his goggles, perched on top of his head. "Scuba diver? Mad scientist?"

"It's...not a costume party, actually," he admits, and then, trying to shove away the awkwardness he feels, he grins wide, declares, "I'm a mad scientist in real life," and pulls his goggles down over his eyes.

Even through them, he can tell she's smiling. "And what sort of macabre activities does this mad scientist get up to?"

He waits a long moment, to build suspense, then bursts the bubble of it with a shrug of his shoulders, pushing his goggles back up into his hair again. "Mostly silly experiments in the chem labs after school. I guess I'm more of a part-time mad scientist, part-time high school student." This is going so much better than he could have anticipated. He doesn't even know what this is, even, except that it's pleasant and sweet, the way their feet walk together in step, the way she hums a little and bites her lip when he asks, "What about you?"

"Well," she says slowly, "I guess you could say I'm a part-time student, part-time art enthusiast."

"You'd love Clarke, then," Jasper tells her. "She's an artist. And she's slowly turning her room into a mini-museum." His brows furrow for a moment, and he amends, "Her whole house, actually."

Their conversation is so simple and so easy, the way she looks at him so genuine and soft, that it's all too easy to believe it never has to end. It's easy to get caught up and just say, without thinking, "You should meet her. You should come with me, to the party."

It turns out this was the wrong thing to say.

Maybe he sounded too enthusiastic. Or maybe he misread the situation in some other way. Because her face falls, and she tries not to let it, and there's something false and forced in the way she brushes the suggestion off: "I—can't. I'm sorry. I just don't think I can. But I want to hear more about them. Tell me all about your friends, Jasper."

The moment isn't easy to recover from, but he tells himself to brush it off. She's already being super-nice, walking with him through zombie-ville. And in the growing gloom, her skin pale and otherworldly as the moon starts to peer out at them in the dusk-blue sky, he's more aware than ever of just how alone they are, and almost has to wonder why she seems so calm. He still has a bit of the jitters, and she probably has more reason to be creeped out right now than he does.

He takes a moment to clear his throat and wallow in his awkward uncertainty, and then just starts saying the first words that come to mind. Which is usually a pretty bad idea, but it seems to work for him this time. The stilted moment of his rejection fades away as quickly as it first popped up, and seems to leave no scars between them.

"Well, my best friend is Monty. He is pretty much the best person you could ever meet. And the smartest. And possibly the most dangerous. I don't mean that in a—just that he's a hacker and not afraid to tell people when he doesn't like them."

Maya's looking at him like he's grown another head, probably because he just admitted to being best friends with a surly criminal. So he tries for a bit more context.

"He's—the first person you'd want on your side in a prank war, and the first person you'd want to spend a lazy Sunday with." He doesn't add that their lazy Sundays usually involve getting high, partly because she seems like a nice girl, and partly because she's probably already pegged him for a stoner, anyway. Most people do. "And—I already told you about Clarke. She and Bellamy are kind of the parents of the group. They're both incredibly competitive and totally protective. And I already said that Clarke throws these huge parties—Bellamy actually came to this one, apparently, which probably means his sister dragged him there. Or Clarke bribed him. Hey, I'm sorry," he cuts himself off abruptly, and almost stops in his tracks, too. "I think this is starting to sound like rambling."

"It's not," Maya answers, and gives his arm a squeeze. "I asked, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I want to hear about you." This isn't even an excuse to protect himself from the possibility of any embarrassing admissions. He really does want to know more about who she is.

And she nods and looks like she's about to speak, but it takes her a long moment, during which she stares straight ahead and the only sound is the crackle of leaves crunching underneath their feet.

"I live with my father," she says finally. "My mom died when I was little so it's always been just the two of us. In our little house. In our little town. I've never gotten to travel much, but I think about it a lot—I think about how great it would be to visit Europe and spend whole days walking through museums or sitting at cafes..." She looks up at him, and her smile is so wistful that he feels suddenly and completely as if her sadness were his sadness, her longing his longing.

He's never been to Europe either, but if he had, he'd tell her all about it. Hell, he'd hop on a plane with her right now so they could travel the whole continent together, if she asked.

"I think that sounds great," he answers, and he's just about to ask if she thinks she'll ever do it, just go, when his phone buzzes again in his pocket, and for a moment, he's so lost that he has no idea what the noise even is.

"What is that?" Maya asks.

He stops where he's walking, her arm still in his, and pulls out his phone with his free hand. "Um—just a text. From Monty. He wants to know where I am."

What Monty actually said was you're still not here, please don't tell me you're taking the long way AGAIN but Maya doesn't need to hear that whole story.

Jasper's started typing out hold your metaphorical horses green when he hears, next to him, Maya's gentle voice announce: "You're at the gates."

And so he is.

He's a bit startled to see them, looming up in front of him, that simple wrought iron structure that forms the gateway between the living and the dead. But he's even more startled to realize he's sad to have reached the end of the cemetery path.

Maya has let go of his arm and wandered toward one of the gravestones in the row closest to the gate. She rests her hand on it lightly but she's looking, not at the stone itself, but at the gate and the wall and the city street beyond. Jasper stares at her profile for a long moment that feels like a short eternity and then he just says it, because he knows almost nothing about her, not even her last name, and he's pretty sure this is a now or never sort of thing:

"Seriously, you should come with me. Clarke won't mind and it'll be fun. Please."

She just shakes her head slowly and won't look at him. "I really can't, Jasper. I'm sorry."

That doesn’t sound like a polite brush off. It sounds like something else, but he has no idea what. All he knows is that he's pushed enough, as much as he can without definitely becoming a creep, which means that this is really goodbye.

"Okay," he answers slowly, and walks over to stand next to her. He takes her hand in his. "Let me say thank you, at least. I know this is going to sound..." He lets out a long breath, reluctant and embarrassed, self deprecating, and rolls his eyes briefly up. "I know this is going to sound stupid, but I have this thing about cemeteries. That I hate them, specifically. They really freak me out. But walking through this one with you...I hardly even thought about where I was."

He's expecting she'll laugh at him: it's such a silly and irrational fear, and everyone he knows has given him grief about it already. But when Maya finally turns to look at him again, her expression is as soft as it was before, and her smile is understanding. "That's not stupid at all," she says, and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. Her skin is so very cold, and she's so close and so real and yet so distant, too, in a way he cannot name.

He's shocked when he feels a soft kiss against his cheek.

"I know just how you feel," she says. "I was scared of cemeteries too when I was alive."

#jaya #jasper jordan #maya vie #jasper x maya #the 100 #modern 100 #my writing #mine

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billybeachphotography-blog · 7 years ago

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The Best Training for a Wedding Photographer

I frequently get asked how to become a wedding photographer. Most aspiring photographers who want to get into weddings think that trailing or (2nd shooting) a wedding is the way to learn. I guess that could be valuable but I never second shot a wedding... I got into shooting weddings by another route, sports! Wedding photography is multi-faceted. In a span of a couple of hours your shooting architectural, macro, candids, large groups, action, you can't have a bad day and you've got to be "up" and ready to perform.

I shot sports for many years before taking on my first wedding. Team shots, individual poses, and action, all within a few hours. Along the way, one of my sports clients asked if I could shoot a wedding. A wedding? Why not, after sports a wedding would be easy. I didn't have a clue. To make matters worse, I had only been to two wedding in my life and one of them was my own. I went o the church and shot an establishing shot of the church. (Architecture) I positioned myself at a good vantage point to capture the wedding procession as they came down the aisle (action shot). I photographed the ceremony using a variety of lenses to get wide angle and close-up shots of the bride and groom. I photographed the kiss (action shot) and the procession up the aisle (more action). Everybody in the wedding party came back into the church. I asked the client what we needed to do now (totally clueless) she told me that we "needed to get some formal shots". Formal shots? What's that? "You know group shots of everyone." Oh, like team shots, I thought to myself, I can do that. I proceeded to get them in groups and photograph them. I then took the bride and groom and proceeded to pose them and let them pose themselves for some romantic shots (individual sports photos). We then went to the reception and I got shots of the rings (macro) and the cake cutting (action) and the dancing shots. (action). Everything from bright light to very dim lighting. I won't say that it was the best wedding I ever shot, but the clients were happy with the pics, I didn't charge them anything except for the film and the processing and a new passion was born. So if your looking to get into weddings, know your camera, get some real experience, take classes, and shoot some sports. Volunteer if you have to. When I say sports, I don't mean just take some candid action, go shoot for a middle school or a private school. I'd go from Baseball team shots to cheerleaders, to softball teams, individuals, swim teams, girls soccer, and action all in the same afternoon/evening. Each of these teams is unique and you learn how to talk to them to get the very best out of them. The way you approach a boys baseball team is a lot different than you approach a group of cheerleaders, not to mention a football team. The way you approach weddings is different too, formal weddings are a lot different from casual weddings, not to mention some of the cultural differences in different styles of weddings. I love them all but you have to be ready for anything.

#Wedding Photographer #best training wedding photographer #billy beach photography #billy beach photo #2nd LAR Battalion #Sports training for weddings #sports best training for weddings

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popularchips-blog · 7 years ago

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4 Insta-Peculiar and Famous Accounts

New Post has been published on https://popularchips.com/dailies/4-insta-peculiar-and-famous-accounts/

4 Insta-Peculiar and Famous Accounts

What does it take to be famous in this digital generation? A Hollywood actress? A billboard international singer? A supermodel?

Yes for all but in the social media space, anyone, anyone can become Insta-famous (sometimes overnight). While celebrities still take the top position of most followed or most liked IG posts of the year (Selena Gomez, Rihana), there are many accounts out there that are Insta-famous for reasons unexpected.

It seems like users are now bored of normal and the weirder something is, the more viral it gets. This is definitely true of the Insta-Peculiar and Famous accounts that we are going to share here!

Stay until the end, it gets better, we promise.

@CASHCATS – Boss cats (157k followers)

girls just wanna have funds 👑💰 #cashcats @raldori

A post shared by 🐱💼💵 (@cashcats) on Oct 26, 2016 at 5:19pm PDT

Around since 2011, the @cashcats account is exactly like what is sounds like – showing cats living the high life as they pose casually on piles of cash. Cashcats is where the world’s most ballin’ felines go to show off their lavish lifestyles.

Will Zweigart, a Brooklyn-based digital marketer behind the account has since received picture submissions on their website from all over the world, contributing to its current cat-nificent feed.

“she had everything she wanted, but she still felt, at times, that there were other things she might want if she knew about them.” #cashcats >>> our cat rescue account: @flatbush_cats

A post shared by 🐱💼💵 (@cashcats) on Jul 13, 2017 at 1:39pm PDT

i need it all right meow #cashcats

A post shared by 🐱💼💵 (@cashcats) on Jun 2, 2017 at 2:59pm PDT

everything i do is big #cashcats @fatcatart

A post shared by 🐱💼💵 (@cashcats) on Feb 22, 2017 at 1:53pm PST

While Cashcats may be on the more perfect, lavish lifestyle of cats, the account also direct users to @flatbushcats who is a TNR (trap-neuter-release) – focused cat rescue in Flatbush, Brooklyn currently fostering 4 lovely cats.

Cashcats may provide a great source of entertainment for us but it could also bring together a community of cat lovers to the message of cat rescuing/ fostering, a great influencer of the cat community isn’t it?

@MYHOTELCARPET – Around the world with carpets (628k followers)

This week has been #CRAZY !! I found this pic from my last trip at the newly remodeled @laxmarriott . Concierge lounge was awesome for domestic hotel. I’ve gotta keep this thing going. #THANKYOU to all my new followers! – – #iliketheaquatones #beginningoftripsonotjetlaggedyet #carpetdad #carpetkid #moretocome #ihavealongtripnextweek #myphonealmostmelted #hadtoturnoffnotificationssoididntgetthrownoutofclass #travel @gulfstreamaero

A post shared by Bill Young (@myhotelcarpet) on Nov 28, 2017 at 5:20pm PST

Second most liked post by @myhotelcarpet for 2017 – From Popular Chips

Account run by Bill Young – a photographer, a pilot who travel for a living. As he travels around the world and stays in numerous hotels, he begins to find a passion in shooting all the beautiful hotel carpets that he came across. What started off as a personal hobby/ interest went viral because of one tweet.

All I Want For Christmas is for my Dad’s hotel carpet instagram to go viral, please help this happen pic.twitter.com/pqCWDglFf9

— Jill (@jillisyoung) November 25, 2017

so excited and amazed by all the support! My dad dad @myhotelcarpet is up to over half a million followers and it’s wild! thank you!

A post shared by Jill Young (@jillisyoung) on Nov 28, 2017 at 10:14am PST

With only a little more than 100 followers, Bill’s daughter, Jill tweeted asking users to show some support for his dad’s account and make it viral. Her Christmas wish came true early and @myhotelcarpet has since gone extremely viral as he grew from just a few hundred followers to whopping 628k followers now!!

@jillisyoung Hi Bill and Jill! Love that you're hotel carpet aficionados. Will you collaborate with us on a design for a new hotel? We’d roll out the red carpet for you here at HQ.

— Marriott Rewards (@MarriottRewards) December 1, 2017

Many news sites have also picked up on his viral success which led to greater fame for his carpet collection IG account. The overnight celebrity even got himself a potential collaboration with Marriot Hotels!

What this understated #greatonbarefeet #hotelcarpet lacks in crazy colors it gains in comfort. This is my first #legit hotel carpet since this thing blew up. Fantastic hotel too. – – #lookingatoceanrightnow #relativelyconfidentididntcatchtuberculosisonflight #myhighschoolspanishisweak #dondeestalabiblioteca #ifoundthecasadepepe #exploringtomorrow @marriotthotels @marriottrewards @hotelartsbarcelona

A post shared by Bill Young (@myhotelcarpet) on Dec 7, 2017 at 1:28pm PST

When asked to share the inspiration behind the account, Bill said “I started noticing how obnoxious a lot of these carpets are… Completely unlike anything you’d see in a house, often very intricate and gaudy”. His wife, Heidi, then suggested he create an Instagram page devoted to the carpets and that’s how it all started!

@IAMTHESWIMREAPER – Influencer dark figure (173k followers)

“Just lovin life. lol. Nah, jokes. Lookin to reap some peeps this summer. If ur gonna make dumb decisions in the water, I’ll be waiting. Holla!” – @iamtheswimreaper

#tbt reapin’ the waterfalls with my trusty steed #giddyup #mypony #squadgoals⠀

A post shared by The Swim Reaper (@iamtheswimreaper) on Feb 15, 2017 at 9:09pm PST

Top commented post of @iamtheswimreaper in 2017 – From Popular Chips

This Grim Reaper is like no others – taking each post on Instagram with a quirky and deathly sense of humor. Who knew a dark ominous figure like him would go viral and become an influencer of his own.

Alright, which one of you wants to be a frickin’ jean-ius today? #killerthreadsbro

A post shared by The Swim Reaper (@iamtheswimreaper) on Feb 14, 2017 at 9:41pm PST

Hey, I just met you and this is crazy… But here's my number. So call me maybe? ☎️ #reaplinebling

A post shared by The Swim Reaper (@iamtheswimreaper) on Feb 8, 2017 at 8:55pm PST

Slow reaping day… So I’m reading about my fav colours. #needacoldswim 💦

A post shared by The Swim Reaper (@iamtheswimreaper) on Dec 19, 2016 at 7:07pm PST

This latest black-coated Instagram star was part of an effort by Water Safety New Zealand to warn people about the risk of drowning in the run-up to summer. The campaign was set up as a way of reaching at-risk young men, aged 15 to 30 while despite only making up 14% of the population, they accounted for around a third of all fatal incidents annually in New Zealand.

To appeal to the audience, the swim reaper takes on a whacky tone and can be seen doing activities popular among young men – surfing, playing volleyball and reading..?

Audience growth statistics from Popular Chips

The account was first started in December 2016 but only picked up this October where internet users begin to notice and news sites featured the swim reaper! In a span of a month, the account grew tenfold to its 173k followers now!

Tired of being so buoyant? Problem solved. My range of swimming trunks are guaranteed to get you to the sea bed faster. Order now and you could be drowning this side of Christmas 🤞 #onesizekillsall #doesmybuttlookdeadinthese – – – – – #swimmingtrunks #beachwear #togs #swimmers #baywatch #onsalenow #beach #summer #nzsummer #summerfun #lookinhot #jeans #swimmingjeans #fasterdrowningeverybody #newzealand

A post shared by The Swim Reaper (@iamtheswimreaper) on Nov 9, 2017 at 5:54pm PST

An innovative way to bring across a message that is so crucial yet often overlooked. We hope the swim reaper can keep up with its whacky content and continue entertaining us but also, successfully warned all the young men out there.

@IHAVETHISTHINGWITHFLOORS – Selfeet on beautiful grounds (842k followers)

Tattoo tiles 💙Regram @amandacassou #ihavethisthingwithfloors #tattoo #drawing #polkadot #miami

A post shared by I Have This Thing With Floors (@ihavethisthingwithfloors) on May 7, 2017 at 10:27pm PDT

Top liked post by @ihavethisthingwithfloors in 2017 – Statistics from Popular Chips

Have you ever notice some of the grounds you walked on?

While the author is based in Amsterdam, the account leverages on the power of user-generated-content to showcase the best selfeet on beautiful floors from all around the world. As users post with the official hashtag, they stand a chance to get their selfeet featured on the account and share with all 824k followers.

RG @jerika_lc #ihaveathingwithfloors To be featured just tag your floors and follow. #Ihaveathingwithfloors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #floors#design#travel#celebration#fwis#goodtimes#fashion#viewfromthetop#fromwhereistand#ihavethisthingwithfloors#mosaic#ootd#shoes#interiordesign#flowers#travel

A post shared by I Have A Thing With Floors (@ihaveathingwithfloors) on Jan 17, 2017 at 10:03am PST

Please excuse my last post. I mixed up my personal account and my floors 🙈 To make up for it here's a beautifully floral floor from @juliahengal #Ihaveathingwithfloors . . . . . . . . . . #nye#newtear#happynewyear#floors#design#travel#celebration#fwis#goodtimes#fashion#viewfromthetop#purple#pink#flowers#travel#parisianfloors#floorsome#peonies#floral

A post shared by I Have A Thing With Floors (@ihaveathingwithfloors) on Jan 3, 2017 at 10:21am PST

In this crazy world, regardless of shape, colour, race, religion, or background we will stand united. ❤️ RG @shagparkroadjewlry #Ihaveathingwithfloors

A post shared by I Have A Thing With Floors (@ihaveathingwithfloors) on Nov 9, 2016 at 3:33pm PST

Have a great weekend! RG @mmmina #ihaveathingwithfloors #blueandwhite#floors#design#lookdown#travel#fwis#viewfromabove#viewfromthetop#squares#friday#friyay

A post shared by I Have A Thing With Floors (@ihaveathingwithfloors) on Nov 4, 2016 at 5:15pm PDT

The next time you happen to chance upon a gorgeous floor setting, why not whip out your phone, snap away with a #selfeet and tag #ihavethisthingwithfloors?

Do you know of any other peculiar Instagram account, do share with us!

#instagram #top #trending

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amazingviralinfo · 7 years ago

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Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston lied to us.

Let me start off by clarifying I’m not saying Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston don’t love each other. Far be it from me to make that judgment.

That’s not my call, that’s not TMZ’s call, that’s not their PR reps’ calls. It’s barely even Taylor and Tom’scall, to be honest. What they feel toward each other is their business and their business alone.

What I am saying is, as far as I can tell, the early days of their relationship were,without a shadow of a doubt, staged. I can’t speak for everything else they’ve done since late June, but the first 10-ish days of their public relationship had a higher production value than most James Cameron movies.

Those cute lil’ private-but-totally-not-meant-to-be-totally-private dates, making out on rocks in Rhode Island and casually strolling into a Selena Gomez concert, never existed.

Instead, we were fed a well-constructed photo narrative, (probably) pieced together by a team of publicists and hired photographers who wanted us to see this relationship as something besideswhat it actually was:fake.

Hadiri acara konser Selena Gomez di Nashville, Tennessee, Tom Hiddleston & Taylor Swift makin hot aja#CallMeSally pic.twitter.com/OMpAX5fAm5

— Maverick Avenue (@MaverickAvenue) June 27, 2016

I’m far from the first person to suggest they aren’t actually dating. The two of them together make such an oddly unbelievable pair that since the beginning of their relationship the internet has called bullshit on literally everything they’ve done.

It’s hard to put your finger on it exactly, but there is just something off about them — they’re too flawlessly happy and picturesque. Looking at pictures of them is like touring a Scientology church and being spooked byhow nice everybody is.

Their not being togetherhas all been speculation, though. I mean, you could argue any time they are photographed it looks less like they’ve been ambushed by paparazzi and more like they were posing for a Lands’ End catalogue, but what does that really prove aside from the fact they’re maybe just the two most photogenic people of all time?

You need hard factual evidence, and this is the first time there has ever been any.

In order to explain this, we need to break down the early days of their romance into four sections.

Section 1: The Mid-MayMeet-Cute

Rumors surfacearound the web of a possible Tiddleston relationship. Calvin and Taylor are broken up. Tom is single, and the two are caught dancing miserably at the MET Gala.

It’s the perfect storm of events to lead to speculation.

Section 2: Mid-June SmoochFest

Then it happens. On June 15, we get our first looks at the couple.

Pictures surface of Tom and Taylor sitting on a beach, getting cozy and throwin’ their mouths at each other.

Section 3: A Few Days Later in Nashville

Taylor Swift holds hands with Tom Hiddleston after Selena Gomez concert https://t.co/m0SKH0ubWG pic.twitter.com/JUP7CAoEBH

Daily Mail Celebrity (@DailyMailCeleb) June 22, 2016

Taylor Swift holds hands with Tom Hiddleston after Selena Gomez concert - https://t.co/y8qRugw09G #GoogleNewsTmh pic.twitter.com/4rsCBWI2Zc

— mochipuny (@mochipuny) June 26, 2016

On June 21, Tom and Taylorare photographed walking into a Selena Gomez concert. Inside, there are cell phone pictures taken of them dancing, but the main pics getting circulated around are taken outside of the venue.

Section 4: ACasual Trip to Rome

A week later, they take their ROME-ance to the next level. (Rome is that level. They go to Rome. You get it.)

OK, now that you have a brief understanding of their relationship history, you shouldprobably be aware of one thing.

Every professionally shot, seemingly candid “paparazzi” photo of them from the time they were caught in Rhode Island until just before Rome WAS RELEASEDBY THE SAME COMPANY.

The. Same. Effing. Company.

After days of tracking down every picture from the early stages of Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston being a thing, I can confidently say, as far as I can tell, this random distributor called The Image Direct is the only company that had picturesof them during the formative days of their relationship.

Aka: Taylor Swift’s people hired (or cut a deal) with a photo team to have them follow her and Tom around and shoot these choreographed scenes.

There was nothing candid or natural about the early days of their romance. Her team gave you the story they wanted to you to seeand lied about the way you perceived them as a couple.

The Image Direct being the only company to organically obtain those pictures is almost impossible.

For one group to get lucky and snag the first shots of a mega-couple like Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston making out is like hitting the paparazzi lottery. To believe that same group hit the jackpot again in a completely different state at a public venue is batshit crazy.

If you’re still skeptical, then consider this for a second.

Let’s say the crafty people at The Image Directdid get the natural scoop over every other photo agency through pure luck. Let’s say they did fight the odds and end up having photographers in the same place as Taylor Swift andTom Hiddleston twice in a row.

There is no way in hell you’re going to convince me they were lucky enough to not just obtain pictures of the most financially lucrative photographic moments in recent Taylor Swift history, but also capturethe amount of “clean shots” they were able to without inside help.

The only pictures of Taylor and Tom not released from The Image Direct before June 23 were these.

Taylor Swift has a romantic dinner with new boyfriend Tom Hiddleston https://t.co/rbyCw6P5nu pic.twitter.com/o2ikkXpnAj

— Daily Mail Celebrity (@DailyMailCeleb) June 24, 2016

(Like a billion other problems with this relationship, we’ll ignore how Taylor clearly sat in the front of the restaurant so she could be caught eating with Tom. That’s a whole other discussion. Just, like, be aware of that.)

Those photosare not good pictures by any stretch of the imagination. They’re all grainy and look like they’ve been taken from the 50th floor of a building two miles away.

Compare thoseto this shot from The Image Direct.

That picture is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s like looking at the concept of a Princesong.

The Image Directcouldn’t keep the exclusive photos forever, though. Taylor and Tom are just too big of a couple, and by the time theytook a trip to Rome, there were other agencies and photographers competing for photos.

It should be noted, though, even in Rome The Image Direct was still somehow scoring the best pictures. Other agencies did snag some shots, but they were not as good as the ones from The Image Direct.

Taylor Swift With her boyfriend Tom Hiddleston InRome https://t.co/iarbcXGhLf pic.twitter.com/kg5r7M9M4P

— Celebzz (@celebzz_a) June 29, 2016

If you were going to fake a relationship, this is exactly how you do it. You hire paparazzi to take paparazzi-esque photos and treat them like “leaked” information.

Looking at these photos and following their timeline is like reading a textbook or watching a TED Talkon how to trick the general public into thinking someone is in the midst of a storybook romance.

Why, though? Why are Taylor and Tom faking this? I understandcelebs date all the time, but there has to be clear motive.

For starters, this is a no-brainer for Tom Hiddleston. His career isn’t exactly on the upswing at the moment with “The Night Manager” ending and Loki kind of over.

There has long been speculation he’s up to be the next 007, and his dating Taylor has definitely super-chargedhis Google search numbers. Extra buzz around his name could be the one thing that propels him closer to becoming the next James Bond.

Taylor probably isn’tdoing thiswithout her own motivations, either.The way I see it, shehas two major things to gain from them going out.

First off, she was able to control the narrative with their faux-lationship. She’s not being strung along like a heartbroken teen like with Calvin Harris. Instead, she took control of her next boy toy and proudly marched her wayinto her next fling.

Plus, from every basic’s perceptive — and Taylor is the queen of the basics — Tom Hiddleston is the evolved form of Calvin Harris. He’s the Blastoiseto Calvin Harris’ Squirtle. He’s a British dude with some semblance of fame and a sexy accent that’s wayyyy more mature. Calvin 2.0, if you will.

Since she stopped doing everything with 1989, Taylor has been on a quest to mature her image.

Another thing she did to mature her image? Deciding to slowly morph into Tilda Swinton.

Secondly, and more obviously, Taylor is probably not super far away from a new album or talks of a new album happening. This is the perfect low-stakes relationship for her to get into, putz around in for a bit and then publicly end.

Let’s just be very clear about one thing: The idea of celebs being in cahoots with the paparazzi is nothing new. Celebs and their publicists tip off photographersall the time.

It’s a weird, shadowy symbiotic relationship never really acknowledged by either side, but it’sa cornerstone of the industry.

The difference here is it’s not just one picture or one event. It’s a whole story that was built and delivered as reality.

I’ll leave it to you to decide what this all means. She isn’t exactly a stranger to lying about major life events *cough* KANYE *cough cough* so the idea behind her fabricating another piece of her life is not out of the realm of possibility.

Sooooooo, what gives, Taylor?

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