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cherryblossomshadow · 2 months ago

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Limited Edition

Summary:

“Don’t worry, I’m clearing out all my Nerd Shit.” Deku held up the duffel he was packing. “I won’t take up anymore of your space.” “What the fuck do you mean your space? Everything that’s mine is yours, dumbass!” . Everyone had always said their time would run out. Even Katsuki’s closest friends wondered how Deku put up with him. Katsuki didn’t really know either, but he knew for damn sure he’d never give him up without the fight of his life. And Katsuki was really good at fighting.

This is my first BNHA fic 🤞 btw this fic is much closer to fanon Bakugo than canon

1815 words

Helpful link to AO3

"I fucking knew something was up."

Katsuki watched Deku nearly jump out of his skin, like he was a comic book character or something. Deku turned around slowly, guilt plastered all over his face.

"Kacchan! I- Uh, I didn't think you'd be back yet," Deku fiddled with his bracelet, the way he always does when he's nervous. Katsuki had always felt quietly proud whenever he saw that nervous tick. He liked to think that he was lending him strength through time and space via the power of a 15-year old friendship bracelet. But if he was, the nerd wouldn't be packing up and leaving in the most cowardly way possible.

"Well, I'm back. And I'm wondering what the fuck my boyfriend is doing trying to fucking ghost me like we haven't been living together for years. You even packed up the fucking Silver?!" Walking through the apartment was like touring a fucking ghost town. Deku had taken down the squad photos from the entryway. Packed up his half of the closet. And most of what was technically Deku’s bedroom (but was in reality the All Might shrine) was already stuffed into the half-full duffel bag in his hands.

Deku had been so quiet after the altercation with Shigaraki at that stupid award show. He stopped flooding Katsuki’s notifs with random memes. Stopped nagging him about his shoes. Stopped stealing from his “secret” candy stash. Deku was pulling away, and he knew it. Everyone had always said their time would run out. Even Katsuki’s closest friends wondered how Deku put up with him. Katsuki didn’t really know either, but he knew for damn sure he’d never give him up without the fight of his life. And Katsuki was really good at fighting.

“Don’t worry, I’m clearing out all my Nerd Shit.” Deku held up the duffel he was packing. “I won’t take up anymore of your space.”

“What the fuck do you mean your space? Everything that’s mine is yours, dumbass!” Katsuki hated feeling helpless, but he didn’t fucking know what to do.

His eyes roved over the rolling suitcase in the corner with an already full duffel beside it. How the fuck did Deku fit his entire life into a suitcase and two duffels? Katsuki felt nauseous. Was their life together so easy to leave behind?

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Kacchan,” Deku gently chided. “You don’t have to take care of me anymore. I’m gonna go back to my mother’s in Musutafu.” Deku’s hands flexed, and he spun around to continue packing. He pressed on, “She’s been trying to set me up at the shop for months now. You know Iida is in the area, and he’ll make sure Shigaraki doesn’t cause any trouble. You don’t have to protect me anymore…”

Katsuki shook his head, like that would change the words he was hearing. Did Deku really feel like an accessory to his life and not his central sun? A sun that both warms and centers him. The object he revolves around, without whom his movements make no sense.

He knew his reputation, but hearing Deku lay out his plan so calmly didn’t make him mad or jealous, so much as unmoored. Deku was the most constant thing in his life. Always cheering him on, always applauding his achievements, yes. But also, always pushing him to be better. Demanding it, even. His north star, his moral compass. Deku would spiral into his crazy rabbit holes and resurface to point him in exactly the right direction. Who would Kacchan be without Deku?

“I’ll still be cheering you from afar! And I’ll buy every album you put out and everything. But everyone says it would be better if I left you alone and I know tha-”

“What does that mean, ‘better if you left me alone’ ?” He’s not exactly surprised to hear that. Everyone they know has said a variation of that at one time or another. But he thought they were together in shoving other people’s noses out of their business. If Deku needs to go find better, then fine, Katsuki will maybe die inside but he’ll fucking deal. But if Deku is leaving for any reasons other than his own…

“Well, you know,” Deku hedged, pausing in rolling up the All Might 2 movie poster. “That whole thing last month … it uh, got a little out of hand. I swear, I wasn’t trying to make it worse, but-”

“You didn’t fucking make it worse. You stopped me from ending that motherfucker’s life.” Deku was entirely blameless in Katsuki’s eyes. That handsy motherfucker, on the other hand … if he got within 100 feet of Deku again, he was gonna fucking meet Katsuki’s fists again. And they didn’t get along so well the first time.

Deku set down the poster solemnly, looking down at the ground. “I know. Kacchan, I’m so sorry-”

“Sorry for what?” Katsuki was extremely lost here. It’s not his fucking fault Shigaraki doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Or that Katsuki took it upon himself to show him where his hands belong.

What was Deku even apologizing for? He had to know Katsuki of all people would never hold anything against him. Deku could pull his heart out of his chest, and Katsuki would thank him for the privilege to be held so tightly.

Deku spun around, tears brimming in his eyes. “I’m sorry I was even there that night! If it wasn’t for me, you never would have gotten into that fight and gotten into so much trouble! I knew I should have been lying low, but I just couldn’t miss watching you accept that award! And now your career might never recover!” Deku curled in on himself, in obvious distress.

Katsuki couldn’t believe what he heard. “Deku … please tell me you’re not trying to leave me for my career.” He had fucking failed as a boyfriend if Deku thinks he’d choose anything over him. Fame, fortune, fucking food … none of it compares.

Deku sniffed. “It’s your childhood dream. I-I wouldn’t dare take that away from you.” He shook his head, shrinking in on himself. He did that so often. Trying to erase himself, like he doesn't even exist.

“So … you were just gonna run?” Katsuki got still and quiet. “Just pack everything up and leave?”

“I-” Deku trailed off, at a loss for words for once.

Katsuki clenched his fists so tightly, he was surprised they didn’t explode. This fucking nerd really thought he could leave without a trace? Just disentangle himself entirely? As if he wouldn't rip out a part of Katsuki by leaving?

Katsuki was practically a god of music, and his career would survive much worse controversies than this. It’s not a choice between his boyfriend and his career. And if it was? Fuck his career! He's had more than plenty minutes of fame, and the hordes of adoring masses have nothing on the stars in Deku's eyes when Katsuki cooks up a new dish or kills a bug for him or rearranges the furniture or whatever.

How could he possibly think Katsuki would choose a fucking job over him! He almost lost Deku once, he's never fucking losing him again!

He was lucky enough Deku was willing to forgive him once he got his head out of his ass in high school. Katsuki won't leave Deku's side until both of their hearts stop. He'll either figure out a way to keep Deku's ashes with him or to fucking haunt him in the afterlife, depending on which one of them goes first.

“You really thought you could just disappear from my life, just like that?”

Deku nodded hesitantly. “Jeanist has it all figured out. The public barely knows I exist, just what the tabloids said about the award show. Jeanist said he’ll figure out how to spin it for the public, and you can do an interview. Maybe you can say I’m a stalker, or an acquaintance from middle school-”

“An ‘acquaintance?’ Fuck the public! They don't get to have the real me. Only you. If you want me.” Katsuki locked his gaze on Deku’s, heart in his throat.

“Oh, Kacchan." Deku's eyes went real soft. "You know you’re all I’ve ever wanted. I spent my entire childhood chasing after you, worried I would never catch up. You knew, even back then, that I would only bring you down, hold you back, and I chased you anyway." Deku dashed tears away, volume rising as he got more upset. “But you were right. I’m jeopardizing your career. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to get this far! I can’t ruin your life!” Deku yelled.

“You’re not ruining my life!” Katsuki yelled back. He was still mad and worried, but at the same time, felt so fucking relieved. He hasn’t lost him, not yet. Not ever, if I can help it.

“Kacchan,” Deku shook his head. “Your childhood dream is at stake!”

“Yeah, my childhood dream. I already achieved it. Because of you! And yeah, it's been great and like the best job ever. I’m amazing at it. But I don't dream about the adoring fans, the crowdsurfing, the big stadium tours or what the fuck ever anymore. I dream about you, nerd. Our life together. So what, if they cancel me or drop me? I don't need a label to write songs. I was made to sing, and I’m gonna sing until the day I die, no matter what happens. I can just put that shit on MeTube or whatever the fuck Sparky’s always going on about.”

“But your career-”

“Will never be as important to me as you, dumbass.” Katsuki grabbed his shoulders firmly, ducking to catch his gaze. “Deku, you could slice open my vocal cords right now, I could never sing another note in my life, and I would still want you in it.”

Deku burst into tears anew. “Kacchan,” he huffed a laugh, wiping at his red eyes. “That's a little fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Kacchan shrugged. He stood behind his words though. “You knew that about me, though.”

“Yeah, I did,” Deku gave him a watery smile. “Kacchan, I just want what's best for you. Jeanist said I bring out the worst in you, and you’d-”

“Fuck Jeanist,” Katsuki spat, finally wrapping Deku in a hug. “I need a new manager anyway. And you’re what's best for me. Don't listen to child me. He was a punk.”

Deku laughed brokenly. “Don't say that. He was pretty cool.”

“He was also extremely stupid in some key ways. He was dead fucking wrong about you, in more ways than one. And he might have been right about the singing career, but the idiot thought it was the most important thing in the world.” Katsuki squeezed him tighter. “I can always get another job. I'll never get another you.”

“Yeah, I’m limited edition,” Deku joked.

“Fuck yeah you are. Fucking priceless.”

Don't look at me. The muse said codependent, insanely fucking obsessed bakudeku, but mostly, Bakugo just yelled about being insane about Deku. Idk how whumpy it is, but Deku sure is going through it so 🤷‍♀️

#whumptober2024 #no.11 #leave no trace behind like you dont even exist #my hero academia #fic #graphic language #some #my writing #bnha fic #mha fic #leave no trace behind #like you don’t even exist #taylor swift #illicit affairs #i was so close to actually posting on time #😭#literally finished my third draft at 1150 #figured i may as well go for a fourth since im over time tho

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saraculberry122 · 2 years ago

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Sammy Ingram Is A Liar

I have known Samantha a.k.a. Sammy for over 10 years. We used to be extremely close friends up until recently. I had to cut her off, because my self, and some of our other friends called her out for constantly lying in her videos. She has already cut off Other friends for calling her out. One of our friends, Tallia, called her out over a year ago, publicly, and Sammy pretended to not know who she was. Sammy has been a habitual, and pathological liar her entire life. She used to lie about her race, and heavily edit her photos and tell people that they weren’t even when it was extremely obvious. She would tell people she was Hispanic, then she would tell people she was half black. She knows how to manipulate people into believing whatever she tells them. I will attach messages to this thread. I was recently blocked after trying to upload a video about the situation on YouTube, she reported my video immediately, and it got taken down for bullying and harassment. I tried to re-upload it, but since my kids were in the background of my video, I think it’s safer, if I don’t.

She always tries to silence everyone who calls her out. She cuts her friends off and blocks us. Then she pretends as if she doesn’t know us. She has never manifested anything in. This is not her first time using social media to scam people. She has admitted to us that she steals other peoples videos. She has sent me links of other peoples post and videos, saying she was going to make a video like it. She talks shit about her coaches, and even tried to scam some of them. Which is why her coaches are constantly leaving. She always says she doesn’t care about her clients, she just wants to make money. She always complains about her clients and her situation is calling them names and laughing at them for being desperate.

Around the time of her father‘s passing, and I reached out to her and told her that I pray she stops lying and does the right thing. She got mad at me and wouldn’t talk to me for a few months. When she did reach out to me she told me she would confess publicly. me and Tallia, are used to create google accounts, and Facebook, pages and fake success stories for her. We were commenting, 20 or 30 success stories under all of her post. When she started her Facebook group, we would post success stories from accounts we created. She literally asked us to do this, so that people would buy her coaching and think she was legit. And she used to buy her Instagram followers. She used to tell people she was Hispanic, which is not true. She would lie about where she is from. All she does is lie. She never manifested Bobby, I have no clue how she made him agree to even filming videos about it. But I’m sure she Gaslite him or manipulated him as she did so many people we know.

She has a burner Twitter account that she used to use to bully people online. The account is still active and she uses it to defend herself, pretending to be someone else to anyone who sends her hate online. She pretends like it’s a supporter but it’s actually her. You may have noticed this account around. She blocked all of her friends on this account along time ago, so I don’t remember the name of it. I’m sure one of you can find it and figure it out. I years ago, she would always create fake accounts to bully people or make herself seem better. Since she is a good liar and manipulator, it’s usually easy for her to get away with everything. I’m sure she has brainwashed her followers into believing everything she says. she loves playing the victim and always has. Every time she starts some thing with someone, it’s always their fault. She is constantly throwing rocks at people and then hiding her hands. This has been going on way before this YouTube channel.

I’m sure like always. She is going to pretend like she doesn’t know me. The same thing she did to TALLIA I will see if I can find a picture of us together. Please help me get this message out. I worry for her son Major Devon Ingram every single day. I pray he doesn’t end up like a pathological liar like his mom. I tried to tell her for years she needs to confess to all of the fucked up stuff she’s done. She continues to say she will, but I doubt she will ever. I cannot wait to see how she will lie and manipulate her way out of this.

#sammy ingram #Sammy Ingram Scam #law of assumption #law of attraction #manifesting #neville goddard #manifest a specific person #specific person

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daisyachain · 11 months ago

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HXH vol 1-3 notes

Every line is snapped to a curve. Every shape is filled to the brim with whatever hatching or ink it’s meant to have. The tightest manga you’ll ever see. And then the lizard is so beautifully watercoloured that you can feel the scales

The hand-drawn backgrounds make it apparent how much of backgrounds in current manga are 3D modelled/photo edits. This is not a bad thing for modern manga. I like to see a beautiful quotidian setting that a poor overworked assistant did not die to produce. It’s also so so cute to have the simple cartoony bushes

Gon is (: a treat to have for a main character. He’s so interesting! A little boy who is not all there

First time around HXH I loved it and it stuck in my brain but only Kurapika, and I was still so hung up on Yorknew that I didn’t really register or understand the rest of it. Downsides to HXH basically being 2 totally separate arcs quilted together (they did say it had a JJBA influence…)

Poor Aunt Mito. More evidence that Gon is a little…

I had 100% forgotten Kite got introduced here

Leorio is 19????? This makes sense…

Different stories exist on different planes of reality and disbelief. HxH exists on the single top plane of disbelief. The tone and content are impossible to reconcile so you just have to let go of any kind of expectation and be free!

The Hunter Exam arc lasts longer than expected

How on earrrtth can they run that far. That is 2 marathons. And then summer camp starts (see aforementioned disbelief)

Body count is Mad High (see aforementioned disbelief). People just keep dying!

This may be my chance to separate Hisoka entirely from anime/Heaven’s Arena ver. and see why he’s my sister’s favourite

The ♦️unique speech bubbles ♣️ are certainly ♠️ a charm point ♥️

Imagining voices to go with the characters is a challenge. They are all so big-eyed and squeaky in my head. At the same time I remember being 12 and what the 12-year-olds in my class sounded like

My youthful Kurapika obsession hasn’t faded. Sorry mutuals. He’s well-spoken.

Culinary challenge minigame is a bit weak

Midnight game is v fun. Bonding time.

HxH is the most video game a thing can get without being a video game. The blobby shapes. The simple backgrounds. The vivid green of a Pokémon or BotW. The levelling up. I don’t know enough about games to be sure but I want to say that it consciously steals Pokémon’s look

The hunt is on!! Great tension in Gon’s pursuit. I was waiting with bated breath

‘197’ <- I did chuckle

Leorio is the failed main character who never actually gets an arc, but the role he plays is to bring everyone else together. He can’t do it himself. We have to help him together. He needs to stick around or else they’d all shake hands and never again see each other. He is a babysitter not much older than a baby himself

Gon and Kurapika’s bond is so sweet! Underrated axis of character relations. Kurapika always has an answer to Gon’s questions (even if it’s wrong) while Gon opens a whole new world of problem-solving for a vengeance-fixated teen. They care about each other very much, even if it’s just because Gon cares about everyone and even if Kurapika isn’t going to let it go beyond casual cooperation

Hiss-o-ka. Feel sorry for the guy who was just trying to get his license (see aforementioned disbelief)

I don’t know what roles Illumi and Hisoka play with respect to one another and at this point I’m not going to ask. Drinking buddies.

Killua time! Eat your heart out, everyone else

Leorio almost solved his puzzle in a remarkably clever way. Rip.

HxH has a world you should never think about for more than 5 seconds

Off to be final…

Another remarkable blast of tonal dissonance. Yay! Hanzo broke his arm for the greater good (?). The creepiness of the situation does heighten Gon’s wrongness so it works

Killua and Gon’s relationship is the bedrock of the story. I do not remember it being so explicitly stated or so early

‘There has to be something you want in the world that is strong enough that you will break away from us’ well.

Zoldyk arc! A classic. Silva is despicable. I feel like this one went a little better in the animation with the dark colouring and the saturated hues.

Killua breaking out of the dungeon is the scene in so many ways. He can leave, he just needs a reason

Gon HxH and Oz PH have some similarities and Gon HxH and Alice PH have some similarities

Alluka already exists. Illumi- Milluki - Killua - [REDACTED] - Kalluto

Most of what I am feeling during the read is sad for Killua

There’s a bit of a balance of power between narrator characters and main/protagonist/active characters. Narrators are aware of the consequences of the protagonist’s actions as well as where they fit into an overarching narrative, narrators can rationalize and contextualize the seemingly random events around them. Because Gon doesn’t understand any of this, he needs a narrator (Kurapika or Killua). Killua is doomed to be aware of what Gon is doing to him and what is happening to Gon. He can’t tell him, he can’t escape it, he doesn’t want to, his role is to Observe and Know the way his entire self is being warped, and he legally can’t do anything about it because he is not the protagonist

Off to Heaven’s Arena…

#kelsey liveblogs hxh #back in business!

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ashethewitch · 2 years ago

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Is red guy more sensitive then he seems?

Don’t get me wrong he’s still an angry sarcastic mf but I kinda get the feeling that it’s not all there is to him and he’s at least more emotional then the rest of his species and maybe he only acts tough cause people were mad at him for showing happiness and caring about stuff or maybe that’s just the only way he knows how to express himself or both

(Also btw I haven’t watched the entire show yet I’m very lazy about it for some reason)

Like in this scene where he’s doing a family photo and the one taking the photo literally asks him to get out of the picture because he smiled and was happy to see his family also how did they see him smile? His face is covered with hair

And also according to matpatt’s theory on the original series it was red guy’s idea of making a kids show in the first place and we see how his species bullies him (I also have a theory about red’s species and the dhmis world in general but I’ll wait until I finish the show and organise my thought) he just wanted to make a funny kids show and bring joy and they didn’t allow him. Living in a world where you can’t show emotions that make sense to you might’ve brought him to that

Maybe his species just can’t feel emotions. I mean theyr face is entirely covered with hair, and theyr mouths from what we see can barely move and theyr eyes can’t move either so maybe his species can’t express emotions the way that humans do and because he expresses them differently he’s getting bullied and people get mad at him which probably made him so angry and wanna hide it all the time

I think he might’ve also moved in with duck and yellow guy because he wanted to run away from his species and live with friends who (mostly) accept him but he still tries to act like he dosent care sometimes because he’s just so used to that and because of his general grumpy personality

Anyways sorry for this mess it was totally not me projecting my autism problems and I still think he’s our grumpy serious motherfucker I just think he might have a soft side at least compared to his species

Edit: also the fact that the song he was singing on stage (and probably wrote himself) was the creativity song which I assume originally is all about thinking outside the box and being creative just shows this

#dont hug me I’m scared #dhmis #DHMID #dhmis red guy #dhmis theory #dhmis angst #we stan

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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The Match - Part 8

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You get a preview of what it’s like to be working with Mackenzie.

Warnings: I apologize as there is no smut in here lmfao but there is a stubborn Bucky lols

A/N: The jitters just never go away whenever I post a new part for this ajkcnjasncakjcnakj I find this part boring tbh but uhh things will start picking up again in the next part I promise

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky decided to push through with his partnership with Wilson Enterprises. It was a big one, so it definitely required the entire team's effort and perseverance. Apparently, this is the company's biggest, most major project yet so this was going to look really good in your resume. It would also provide you with more credibility to further excel in your career.

Except that Bucky actually hired a marketing consultant to take over the entire project as his revenge.

"Any questions? About the project or about Kenzie?" Bucky asked, standing in front of the conference room, next to Mackenzie.

You confidently raised your hand when no one else did. Bucky tilted his head, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew you were affected, of fucking course you were!

"Yes?" he called out.

You stood up and sighed softly, "I mean this in the most respectful way, Mister Barnes." you said, emphasizing his name. "But as the head of marketing, what exactly is my role here? Given that Mackenzie was hired to spearhead the marketing aspect of this project." you said, giving Mackenzie a passive aggressive smile.

"I don't want to overstep on some boundaries here, that's why I'm asking. I just want clarity, that's all." you said.

Bucky was about to respond when Mackenzie stopped him, grabbing his arm and squeezing it before taking over the floor. You narrowed your eyes at how her slender fingers were wrapped around Bucky's arm.

"Honey..." Mackenzie started. "There's nothing to worry about, this is a collaborative work between you and I. So think of yourself as my assistant, someone to help me out with the project." she responded.

Bitch.

"I'm not an assistant, Mackenzie." you said, smiling at her.

Mackenzie laughed, "I'm sorry, my bad. I shouldn't have used that term. Oops." she said. "Although, I believe I have more experience in this area so maybe consider me a mentor?" she suggested.

Bitch!

Bucky cleared his throat, "If you have certain ideas, you can discuss it with her. She is a consultant after all. Given her impressive experience in the field, I'm sure you'll learn a thing or two from her."

The meeting was wrapped up by noon and you simply couldn't wait to get yourself out of the conference room. You didn't feel like talking to Bucky anymore in all honesty, not after what he was doing. You knew this was just to spite you, get you to cave in first and give in to him.

All the more that you wouldn't, especially not when he actually used your job against you.

Everyone started rushing out of the conference room, ready to head out for lunch. As soon as you reached the doorway, you overheard the short conversation between Bucky and Mackenzie.

"Hey Bucky, we still up for lunch?"

The bathroom was empty when you stepped inside and thank god for that because you couldn't hold back your emotions any further. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, not because you were hurt. Fuck no, you were angry and frustrated. So fucking angry at yourself for getting into this mess, at Bucky for being such an entitled prick, at the entire world for plotting against you.

You groaned in irritation as you wiped away your tears, sniffing as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You worked your ass off for this job, for your position. You risked your dignity when you let Bucky fuck you. You weren't going to let someone take that away from you.

You quickly fixed yourself when the door opened, followed by the loud clacking of someone's heels.

"Omg, are you crying?" Beverly gasped, rushing over to you.

You snickered, "No." you lied, "My eyes are itchy." you huffed out before noticing that Beverly was holding a sandwich in her hand.

"Why did you bring your sandwich here?" you curiously asked.

Beverly shrugged, "The pantry's full and the other girls don't exactly seem to like me...so..."

You shook your head and sighed, "Come with me, let's have lunch out. I need to get out of this fucking place anyway."

"Yay, omg! I knew you were nice! You're like, the only girl who actually talked to me nicely." Beverly said, tagging behind you as you exited the bathroom.

"Oh, there you are!" Mark called out. "I was looking for you. Wanna grab lunch? Oh...who's this?" he asked, noticing the blonde girl trailing behind you.

"I'm Beverly! I'm Sir James' new secretary." she introduced excitedly.

You sighed, "Don't ask me why." you said when Mark turned to you with a confused look, still not sure what happened to Bucky's previous secretary.

"So, lunch out? With Bev?" you asked.

You were completely zoning out during lunch despite the ongoing conversation between Mark and Bev, something about yoga? You honestly couldn't care less, not when you were feeling so conflicted about your current situation.

Would Bucky actually go that far just to get you back? Or does he actually hate you for saying no to him and is basically using his authority to make your life a living hell?

"So I heard about the new girl." Mark said, that snapped you out of your trance.

"Huh?" you asked.

"I find it weird for Mister Barnes to hire someone when you're here." Mark pointed out. "I mean, are you okay with that or..."

You snorted, "Fuck no. Look, I'm not gonna be the bigger person here. I was offended as fuck." you admitted.

"Yeah, it's super weird because she was hired through Tinder or something. Is that even legal?" Beverly pointed out as she scrolled through her phone.

You and Mark turned to her abruptly, "Tinder? Wait, what?" you asked.

Beverly chuckled, "I heard them talking this morning and Kenzie was like, 'It's so funny that we matched on Tinder and ended up doing business there you know' and I'm like omg Sir James has Tinder and I have one too but I never saw him there, bummer."

"Motherfucker." you hissed out.

Mark made a face, "Are you okay?" he carefully asked. "You've been really tensed since last week."

Apparently, Bucky never deleted his Tinder and have been swiping right on women. And that's how he met Mackenzie who just happened to be a marketing consultant. Now you were just furious, was he fucking her too? Has he been fucking other women this entire time?

"Hey, Bev..." you said, a plan hatching inside your mind. "Can I ask you a favor?" you asked nicely.

Beverly nodded, "Um duh, you're basically my office BFF now."

"If you ever hear Mister Barnes and Mackenzie talk about hmm, I don't know...something interesting. Maybe about the project...me 'cause you know, I'm the head of marketing and Mackenzie’s in the same field...let me know, will ya?" you asked.

Mark chuckled nervously, "I don't know what's going on but isn't that an invasion of privacy?"

"She's not going to eavesdrop, Mark. She'll just...listen closely." you explained.

"Bev might get in trouble if Mister Barnes finds out." Mark warned.

You waved a hand, "She'll be fine, Mark. She's his secretary, she has to know everything. Besides, I'm not going to let her get in trouble, if she does then I'll take care of it."

Beverly squealed in delight, "Omg, you are not my office BFF. You're like my office mom! You and Mark are literally my office parents." she said, lifting her phone up in the air.

"Selfie! This one goes to the 'gram." she said, taking a quick photo of the three of you.

She then proceeded to edit the photo while you and Mark continued eating lunch.

"Bev, you should really put your phone away and eat first. We have less than half an hour left for lunch break." Mark called out.

Beverly groaned and rolled her eyes, "Way to get into the role, Mark. You're such a dad."

You snorted, "Yeah. Loosen up, daddy." you teased.

"Playing family after just one date, huh."

Bucky's presence in the same restaurant should've really intimidated you, most especially that he just witnessed you tease Mark like that. But you were too mad at him to even care, what was the point even? He didn't believe you even when you told him the truth that Mark was just a friend.

Why even try now?

"Hi Sir James." Beverly greeted happily.

"Mister Barnes." Mark acknowledged.

Bucky ignored them and kept his eyes on you. You didn't falter under his gaze and simply stared back at him with blank eyes. It's as if a staring competition took place when the both of you merely looked at each other, neither of you looking away nor attempting to do so.

"How was that date last Friday, Jim?" Bucky asked, his eyes still trained on yours.

Mark made a funny face at the name that Bucky called him but shrugged anyway. Before he could even respond, you decided to answer on his behalf. If Bucky wanted to spite you, you'd give him a taste of his own medicine.

"It was actually great. We might go on another one this Friday." you said.

"We are?" Mark asked in a whisper.

Bucky's hand landed on Mark's shoulder, "Don't count on it, Andrew. She's going to be doing a lot of work on Friday due to the project." he said through gritted teeth.

You shrugged, "Oh, but I thought Mackenzie's doing all my work?"

"I'm ready to head back, Buck."

Speak of the devil herself. Mackenzie weaved through the tables and approached Bucky, her face brightening up when she saw you, Mark and Beverly.

"Oh, hey you." she greeted you. "Look, I think we may have started off on the wrong foot earlier. I'm not here to take your job, just here to spice things up a bit. Improve your ideas, give Bucky some assistance." she chuckled, holding onto Bucky's arm yet again.

You fought back the urge to grab your glass of water and throw it at her face. As the saying goes, kill them with kindness. So you merely shrugged and extended an arm for a handshake.

"Of course. I would love to improve your ideas as well, you know. Just a healthy discourse between two marketing professionals. We good?" you said.

Mackenzie forced out a chuckle and reached for your hand, "We’re good. I look forward to working with you." she said before turning back to Bucky who was still gazing at you.

"Let's go?" she asked sweetly.

Bucky smirked at you before wrapping an arm around Mackenzie's waist, guiding her out of the restaurant the same way he did to you. You were too focused on Bucky's body language around Mackenzie that you failed to notice that Mark was watching you closely, your expressions and how you reacted towards Bucky.

"I think I know what's happening."

"You what?!"

"Shhh!" you hushed Mark and peeked out of the empty pantry to make sure the coast was clear.

Mark noticed the tension between you and Bucky and he came to a conclusion that the both of you dated at one point. He wasn't really wrong but he wasn't right either. So you decided to tell him everything, from the moment you matched with Bucky on Tinder until your last conversation with him last Saturday.

"I honestly thought you were dating, I didn't know there was sex involved. No wonder he had been calling me weird names." he said incredulously. "Was that you and Mister Barnes that Janet reported to the HR?" he asked, stifling his laughter.

You groaned, "Yes. Ugh, gave me a panic attack when I found out about that incident report." you said.

"Hey..." Mark called out. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this. Your secret is safe with me." he reassured.

You nodded, "I think it was about time that I told someone about us anyway. This whole situation is driving me crazy and I don't know what to do next. And I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess, I shouldn't have said that we were going out again. I don't want you or your job getting compromised because of our petty fight." you exhaled.

You had to admit, you felt so much better now after confiding with Mark. It somewhat alleviated the weight on your shoulders, knowing that there was someone aware of what you were going through. Who would've thought that this person would end up being Mark? You did have friends outside of work of course, but you felt like they all wouldn't really understand the situation.

Half would hate you for rejecting Bucky and the other half would hate you for even swiping right on him.

"Do you mind an unsolicited advice?" Mark asked.

"Not at all." you said.

"Ignore him. Don't let him or Mackenzie get to you. Do what you do best, you're great at your job and you'll be fine. That might get him to realize that you're not a prize to be won. And if he still doesn't see that, then that's his loss. You're more than just that hot marketing girl at work." Mark said.

You laughed at his last statement, "Hot marketing girl at work?" you asked, shaking your head.

"It's true. So if in any case you decide to ditch the CEO and move on, you know where to find me." he joked, throwing a wink your way.

You wanted to finish all your reports so you could focus on the huge project so you decided to work until around nine in the evening. The floor was already empty by the time you were done. Bucky seemed to be working too, given that he was still replying to e-mails at this hour. Wanting to get all the reports over with, you decided to submit it to him before going home.

During the elevator ride to Bucky’s floor, you couldn’t help but wonder whether he was alone in the office. Would Mackenzie be there with him? Even at this hour? Your grip on the folder tightened at the thought of catching them in the act.

But did you have any right to feel this way though?

Brushing off the thoughts, you exhaled loudly and prepared yourself for whatever it was you were to witness. Upon reaching the door to Bucky’s office, you slightly turned your head to listen to anything. It was quiet. No hushed whispers nor strained grunts-- they weren’t fucking, thank goodness for that.

You decided not to knock and just walk inside like you used to, reminding yourself of Mark’s advice.

Don’t let Bucky get to you.

When you saw Bucky hunched over his desk, typing away on his e-mails instead of bending a certain brunette somewhere in his office, you had to admit that you were relieved. He looked up and his eyes looked dead tired, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“You should really learn how to knock.” Bucky called out, slamming his laptop shut.

“Look, Bucky. I was just rushing to submit these reports so I can go home.” you explained and placed the folder on top of his desk.

Bucky frowned, “I said to call me Mister Barnes.”

You huffed out, “I honestly don’t care, Bucky. I’m not playing your damn games anymore.” you said and turned around.

A hand on your arm pulled you back, harshly turning you around to face Bucky. He was fuming, as usual. At this point, you were no longer fazed.

“You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” he asked.

You clenched your jaw and pulled your arm back, “I’m not doing anything. You bring in Beverly or Mackenzie or whoever it is that you have up your sleeve. I don’t fucking care. I just want to focus on work.” you said and stepped away.

“And you should too, Bucky.” you added.

“I don’t believe you.” he said.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping from exhaustion at this whole shenanigan. “I’m done, Bucky.”

And with that you turned around to exit his office, leaving Bucky unsure whether you truly meant what you said. A victorious smirk graced your lips as you walked back to the elevator.

You were far from done.

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #fem!reader #sebastian stan

1K notes · View notes

420pogpills · 4 years ago

Text

masterpost of random epic dnf moments

i find so much comfort in these posts that just contain links to loads and loads of epic clips so i wanted to make one of my favourite george&dream moments :’)... this took me several days okay.

in no particular order whatsoever

(♥♥♥) “so...dream.” “what?” “um, hello.” “hi”

(♡♡♡) “george!” “yeah?” “HEY 😁”

(♥♥♥) “that is actually george’s fish” “oh what? i will keep it safe” (bonus: giving fish back)

(♡♡♡) “you two and your inside jokes, you guys are such good friends”

(♥♥♥) “i saw an interesting donation on your stream”

(♡♡♡) “trust me. george - i’m handling it.”

(♥♥♥) “i’m not gonna be hurt if dream is next to me”

(♡♡♡) “you’re making me laugh it’s not even fair!”

(♥♥♥) “i shot you once” “no you shot me multiple times”

(♡♡♡) “oh that’s so hot”

(♥♥♥) “what you gonna do, fight me?”

(♡♡♡) “dream has my number because dream needs me sometimes”

(♥♥♥) “stop you’re hurting me” “i’m hurting you?”

(♡♡♡) “i’m very similar to george so i probably won't like it”

(♥♥♥) “i said i’m in the hot tub right now, he said ‘prove it’”

(♡♡♡) “dream stop killing me!”

(♥♥♥) “i’ve always wanted to explore my sexuality”

(♡♡♡) “this is what happens when you fall down my trap”

(♥♥♥) “i’m so used to having your attention 24/7″

(♡♡♡) “why are you so mean dream?”

(♥♥♥) “you know who reminds me of nemo? george”

(♡♡♡) “first thing’s first-” “i’m the realest”

(♥♥♥) “come hide with me”

(♡♡♡) “he looks so handsome, look at him, look at george”

(♥♥♥) “oh george” “oh dream”

(♡♡♡) “you love me?” “yes, i do”

(♥♥♥) “be careful george”

(♡♡♡) “you’re laughing at every different word i say”

(♥♥♥) “can i have the sword dream?” “say that you love me”

(♡♡♡) “just hug me george”

(♥♥♥) “i’m the mememan, my milk is delicious”

(♡♡♡) “george i’m gonna blow up - come with me”

(♥♥♥) “you couldn’t see what dream was doing”

(♡♡♡) “george is easily a top 10 mcc player”

(♥♥♥) “what would you say my weakness is?” “me”

(♡♡♡) “we were getting this computer repair guy - oh my god”

(♥♥♥) “every time you get near me you just get all red”

(♡♡♡) “you would follow me down here”

(♥♥♥) “dream is a simp for me” “yeah”

(♡♡♡) “nice dream!”

(♥♥♥) “smile - you see him everyday”

(♡♡♡) “you deserve punishment george”

(♥♥♥) “what are you doing george?” “i’m on twitter”

(♡♡♡) “george george george you look amazing george”

(♥♥♥) “you don’t have to follow me everywhere”

(♡♡♡) “get away from dream!”

(♥♥♥) “we’re in the stars”

(♡♡♡) thirdwheelboyhalo

(♥♥♥) “dream is so delightful”

(♡♡♡) “DREAM LET’S GO!”

(♥♥♥) “follow me, i’ll follow you actually - just take me”

(♡♡♡) “dream...” “i had to george, i had to”

(♥♥♥) “i trust my dream”

(♡♡♡) “you don’t brag about your looks”

(♥♥♥) “george just tell me you love me”

(♡♡♡) “someone said ‘dream do you think george is cute’?”

(♥♥♥) “kiss george” “that’s a pretty good forfeit”

(♡♡♡) “a plane ticket to dream’s house”

(♥♥♥) “okay that was pretty pog”

(♡♡♡) “i’ve been too focused on george”

(♥♥♥) little compilation

(♡♡♡) “why’d you say it like that?”

(♥♥♥) “dream’s trying to kill me, he’s killing me!”

(♡♡♡) “if you won, what would be your first date with george?”

(♥♥♥) “we do everything together”

(♡♡♡) “answer my question!”

(♥♥♥) “oh. yeah. but george too.”

(♡♡♡) “if you win, you have to kiss dream!”

(♥♥♥) “dream... i’m messing up” “oh are you still streaming?”

(♡♡♡) “be careful”

(♥♥♥) suspicious dancing

(♡♡♡) “don’t be greedy george”

(♥♥♥) just... this whole edit

(♡♡♡) “george is mine, go away”

(♥♥♥) “dreeeaaaaam i know you wanna help”

(♡♡♡) “george you’re a genius, george kiss me!”

(♥♥♥) “he was wearing like an oversized dream smile hoodie”

(♡♡♡) george compilation 10/10

(♥♥♥) “i don’t wanna hear you laugh”

(♡♡♡) “whenever dream tries to get a new speed run record he just disappears for a month”

(♥♥♥) laughing face to face

(♡♡♡) “can i have some stuff?”

(♥♥♥) “geoorrgeeee”

(♡♡♡) “he lives in your head actually rent free”

(♥♥♥) “you know quite often we just know what we’re talking about?”

(♡♡♡) “now it backfired because george knows me”

(♥♥♥) “he’s small it’s different”

(♡♡♡) “COME HERE GEORGE!”

(♥♥♥) “you can be my valentine if you want george”

(♡♡♡) “no mom no he broke up with me” (bonus: “george denied me”)

(♥♥♥) “just explain your reasoning for denying me” “you didn't mean it”

(♡♡♡) “goodnight george, goodnight gogy”

(♥♥♥) “dream just saved something from snapchat!”

(♡♡♡) “i’m breaking you out!”

(♥♥♥) “you’ll get punished george"

(♡♡♡) “guys this is like the cutest photo of george ever”

(♥♥♥) “guys i’m opening a new business” “selling george pictures?”

(♡♡♡) “don’t attack the wolf dream i’m not there to save you”

(♥♥♥) “you were like ‘you have to praise me now for 5 minutes’”

(♡♡♡) “why don’t you think i’m here?”

(♥♥♥) “we were playing geoguessr the other day”

(♡♡♡) “i am wheezing and dying and george is dying with me”

(♥♥♥) “you used to get mad at me for placing blocks beneath myself”

(♡♡♡) “you have to clip that” “no”

(♥♥♥) “c’mere”

(♡♡♡) “i almost died, water me!”

(♥♥♥) “me and george”

(♡♡♡) “i wouldn’t want to do it unless he’s here”

(♥♥♥) “me and george were literally holding hands in the hallway”

(♡♡♡) “you should get negative points if you’re an idiot”

(♥♥♥) “kiss”

(♡♡♡) “i thought you might want to confess something”

(♥♥♥) “we’ve been talking to each other for 10 hours?”

(♡♡♡) “i’m not here to disappoint you or anything”

(♥♥♥) “mimic my yawn, that means you love me you know that right?”

(♡♡♡) “i’m not helping you this round” “i need you”

(♥♥♥) “we’re literally on a boat”

(♡♡♡) “you’re so ridiculous”

(♥♥♥) “i fell asleep in a call with george”

(♡♡♡) “wow george you’re great”

(♥♥♥) “dream just went 👉🏻👉🏻”

(♡♡♡) “yessss let’s go” “wait let me pick you up!”

(♥♥♥) “dream sort this out!” “alright wait turn around”

(♡♡♡) “you have pretty privilege”

(♥♥♥) “george i have something that will cheer you up george”

(♡♡♡) “i’ve been by your side since the beginning george”

(♥♥♥) “sitting here forced to drink water, it has absolutely no flavour”

(♡♡♡) “gives back i’ll be good” “no no you won’t”

(♥♥♥) “don’t worry. i’m here george”

(♡♡♡) “dream say hi” “hi”

(♥♥♥) “so george why are you laying in bed while you’re talking to dream?”

(♡♡♡) “where did george go, george is not found”

(♥♥♥) “come over here greg i will save the day” “francis!”

(♡♡♡) “that’s not what you told me last night”

(♥♥♥) “please just swim drive the boat drive the boat”

(♡♡♡) “before i even met you, you had this ginormous impact”

(♥♥♥) “you’re not worthless george we love you”

(♡♡♡) “george is like the biggest idiot”

(♥♥♥) “alright fine i’ll play one more”

(♡♡♡) “you see george everywhere. you see what you wanna see”

(♥♥♥) “guess united kingdom because someone you love lives there”

(♡♡♡) “george don’t leave me”

(♥♥♥) “you say bolivia george?”

(♡♡♡) “why are you so feral?”

(♥♥♥) “you’re an idiot” “you’re the one who’s screaming to do it”

(♡♡♡) “”you’re so oh my god” “you’re so annoying”

(♥♥♥) “i trust you so m-so often”

(♡♡♡) “now i have you right where i want you”

(♥♥♥) “heads” “alright it was heads”

(♡♡♡) “george you’re the hottest piece of ass in dreamhunt”

(♥♥♥) “you said ‘just woke up’ and i said ‘me too, in sync bby’”

(♡♡♡) “dnf arc? yeah maybe”

(♥♥♥) *george shooting dnf into wall on csgo*

(♡♡♡) “george and dream’s brotherly relationship is so iconic”

(♥♥♥) “you can’t 👹LEAVE👹 it’s not allowed”

(♡♡♡) “oh we’re finishing each other’s sentences right now”

(♥♥♥) “you said you were gonna what, kiss me or something like that?”

(♡♡♡) “do you have a song that makes you think of dream?”

(♥♥♥) “here george take this take this george”

(♡♡♡) “hey dream” “hey george”

(♥♥♥) “do you have a crush on dream?” “yes, go on”

(♡♡♡) “i am proud of you” “wow thank you dream”

(♥♥♥) “1 dollar every hour” “for how many hours?”

(♡♡♡) “i clicked skip whoops - wait, where are all my balls?”

(♥♥♥) “get out of here GET OUUUUTTTT”

(♡♡♡) “i’m sleeping for at least 8 hours” “but then we’re gonna be out of sync again”

(♥♥♥) “this is actually disgusting, come to me where are you”

(♡♡♡) “thank you baby... oh no” “WHAT?”

(♥♥♥) “yeah i love dream so much”

(♡♡♡) “yes that is exactly what i was thinking dream”

(♥♥♥) “dream” “hi” “hello i’m streaming” “hi”

(♡♡♡) “mm poor little george”

(♥♥♥) “do you have fifty dollars?”

(♡♡♡) “please please half a heart half a heart!”

(♥♥♥) “that’s okay you wanna be near me, that’s fine”

(♡♡♡) “you would know all about the simp handbook wouldn’t you”

(♥♥♥) “please i need you” “i do need you”

(♡♡♡) “kill him!...or her.. or it..”

(♥♥♥) “cause he’s little gogy”

(♡♡♡) “do your parents know about gream?”

(♥♥♥) just... cuteness

(♡♡♡) “wait george my minecraft’s starting my minecraft’s starting”

(♥♥♥) “te amo sueno”

(♡♡♡) “yeah that was my idea” “yeah just like last night”

(♥♥♥) “you can just say he’s a bottom”

(♡♡♡) this entire video

(♥♥♥) “why are you leaving me?” “alright fine”

(♡♡♡) “george you look good in a suit”

(♥♥♥) “i have a present for george!”

(♡♡♡) “why don’t you want to facetime me?” “i haven’t shaved”

(♥♥♥) “dream’s killing me, why are you killing me?”

(♡♡♡) “george i thought you were going to choose me”

(♥♥♥) “you wanna watch a beautiful sunset? just for you dream”

(♡♡♡) “we don’t text that much” “we text everyday”

(♥♥♥) “georgie poooo come here”

(♡♡♡) “oh beat me dream beat me”

(♥♥♥) “you are so impressive dream”

(♡♡♡) “i just ran for like a million hours”

(♥♥♥) “mydic--kslong has subscribed, thank you..”

(♡♡♡) all of these moments are too funny

(♥♥♥) “dreeaaaam! loooook!” “oh he’s cute”

(♡♡♡) “oh george~” “this is scary”

(♥♥♥) “george do that water drop sound”

(♡♡♡) “why is everyone saying ‘george explain the text?’”

(♥♥♥) “why are you saying it like that?” “that’s how you said it”

(♡♡♡) “i’m going to my secret stash”

(♥♥♥) “it said ‘name a dessert’” “you should’ve put me”

(♡♡♡) “i need to come” “you wanna come?”

(♥♥♥) “i have missed your face!”

(♡♡♡) just.. this entire video

(♥♥♥) more on george sleep talking

(♡♡♡) “that’s the same height difference between me and you george”

(♥♥♥) “you’re doing extremely well george. just calm down.”

(♡♡♡) “george~” “stOP. stop it”

(♥♥♥) “i know dream loves me a lot but unfortunately i don’t love him back”

(♡♡♡) “it’s fun to make him more afraid”

(♥♥♥) “someone said ‘dream do you think george is cute?’”

(♡♡♡) “oh we know george we know how hot you are”

(♥♥♥) “dream has friendship hacks”

(♡♡♡) “let’s watch a movie” feat. sapnap

(♥♥♥) “the only man i’m into is george”

(♡♡♡) “you broke my heart dream by....breaking my heart”

(♥♥♥) “keep lying to him george”

(♡♡♡) dream team not dnf but i love this so watch it plz

(♥♥♥) “you turn your camera off to sneeze? it’s okay we love you”

(♡♡♡) “dance with me dream”

(♥♥♥) “dweaaaam pleaseeee”

(♡♡♡) “it’s fine dream, i’ll stream another day” “waaaaaaah!”

(♥♥♥) “i just wanna talk to you”

(♡♡♡) “you’re just like interesting in general george”

(♥♥♥) “when’s my birthday dream?”

(♡♡♡) “here these are for you 🌹”

(♥♥♥) “i love you george”

(♡♡♡) “i’ll fight you in sumo when you’re in my house”

(♥♥♥) “we’re going together aaaaah”

(♡♡♡) “guess what, i had faith in you”

(♥♥♥) “or OR.. we could... kiss?”

(♡♡♡) “i haven’t had my first kiss” “that's a lie, you kissed me”

(♥♥♥) “hey dream give me an ak.... please”

AND OF COURSE THERE ARE SO MANY MORE BUT... i cannot do this any longer therefore the rest are compilations because i cannot do this any longer

(♥♥♥) every time george has said ‘i love you’ (kind of) to dream

(♡♡♡) dreamnotfound moments

(♥♥♥) gaymest moments

(♡♡♡) rare moments

(♥♥♥) wholesome

(♡♡♡) idiot compilation

(♥♥♥) love languages compilation

BONUS: this soulmate compilation...

SO ORIGINAL POST - links wouldn’t work when reblogged because it went over link limit with everyone tagged, so i will reblog with everyone who’s clips i’ve included!

#georgenotfound #dream #dreamwastaken #dreamnotfound #dnf #dream smp #mcyt

994 notes · View notes

putschki1969 · 2 years ago

Note

Thanks for your album comparison! What about covers and promotional pictures in general (for both singles and albums)? Which one do you like the most? Is there a style they chose that you find the prettiest? You can rate your favourite pictures looking at the girls' solo careers individually but it would also be interesting to compare them!

Hello again! 🤗

Sorry it’s taking me so long to get back to you, I always have a bunch of asks in my drafts and I try my best to work through them in more or less chronological order 🙈

First of all, for me personally Wakana is the clear winner when it comes to visuals. Her photo shoots are ✨top-tier✨ with no exception [even if her outfits look atrocious at times XD] ! Say what you will about Space Craft but they definitely don’t shy away from investing a lot of money in high-quality promotional material and merchandise. We are constantly getting gorgeous pamphlets, special photo spreads for her fan club magazines and of course a variety of photo booklets/books for her music releases. Nothing of that sort exists for Keiko’s and Hikaru’s solo work. One might argue that it’s not necessary since the focus should be on the music rather than the artist’s visuals but meh, let’s be real here, in many cases it’s those specific “idol” marketing strategies that bring in the big money and not the music itself. On a side note, Wakana is just so freaking photogenic, especially when it comes to professional shoots like this. Despite Keiko’s otherworldly beauty, she somehow always manages to look kinda awkward in at least 80% of her staged photo shoots. There honestly haven’t been enough releases from Hikaru that contained a proper amount of visuals so it’s hard to even compare her to Wakana and Keiko.

Without further ado, let’s get to my faves〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Wakana

Wakana - magic moment [Regular Edition]

Comment: Look at her!!! Just look at this goddess! Can you believe that this was part of the regular edition credits booklet?!! Now THAT’s how you make people buy useless regular editions! By adding the most beautiful pictures of your artist! I love every single shot. Her hair, her outfit! The locations! Perfection! I don’t even mind the random fabrics on the ground. I have absolutely no idea how you would adequately translate a theme like “magic moment” into visuals so I am not mad that they simply went for an urban but still open setting.

Keiko

Keiko - dew [Limited Edition]

Comment: This is 100% my aesthetic, it’s unbelievably beautiful! Probably would have been my overall #1 if there had actually been more than just a few shots in the super pricey limited edition. They were really lazy with the booklets of the other editions and I’m still bitter about that. But other than that, no complaints from me. As far as I am concerned, these are perfect visuals! All the pink, the girly outfit, the messy bun, the misty glass. Stunning! And it reflects the image of the album title “dew” pretty well. Generally I am a big fan of most of Keiko’s promo and cover images (“Ray / 始まりは” & "桜をごらん / 笑ってやる” are probably my favourite single covers) but it’s a shame we are only ever getting one or two shots and not an entire photo series. Call me shallow but I want more of those pictures, preferably in physical format!

Hikaru

Hikaru - disclose [Tokuten Postcard]

Comment: I really struggle to pick something for Hikaru. Don’t get me wrong, she always looks flawless in her cover shoots but for the most part, there is just not a lot to choose from and I might actually prefer how she looks in her tokuten postcards because those visuals are typically a little more daring. Unfortunately I don’t own all of them so I just went with the one above. Overall, I enjoy her “disclose” visuals most, maybe because they are very reminiscent of Kalafina? Who knows? Either way, her dress is gorgeous and the cover design is suitably dark.

Everyone, feel free to share your faves! For reference you can check out my scan tags 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

wakana scans

keiko scans

hikaru scans

#kalafina #reply #wakana #keiko #hikaru

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years ago

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the 1995 brits x damon albarn & liam gallagher

hhhiiii I'm here with a very cute little fic about the brits!! the idea of writing something with Damon and liam fighting over someone was requested quite a long time ago (sorry it’s taken so long omg) but I loved the idea!! I do hope you all enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it a lot hahah xx

Pairing: 90s damon albarn & 90s liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: nothing, just a little bit of bickering n dat

Word count: 3.057

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Being a part of the madness that adapted the name ‘Britpop’ was truly an experience. Paparazzi at every corner you turn, equipped with the brightest, flashiest cameras, also having the most annoying click noises to the point that after one image you’ve earned yourself a migraine that would last the entirety of the day; parties that would last entire nights, bearing millions of different kinds of drugs - some that hadn’t even been given a name yet, but you’d still give a try anyways, since you’re so high and drunk that you simply lose the intellectual capability to construct decisions, you say fuck it, and get so high to the point that you’ve blacked out in a booth in a bar, with the owner asking you to get out since you’ve been inside for one too many hours after closing time; as well as constant press coverage. With your name plastered over literally every newspaper and music magazine known to man, as well as having your entire life consistently dictated for the entire nation to read about every Sunday morning and indulge themselves into as a form of entertainment, it was what being famous delivered, right on your doorstep at 7 in the morning. Any earlier and you’d feel rude not to give them a cup of tea as a form of dignity and respect towards their sublime dedication to the job. Although it was fun being associated with it all, my band in particular gaining a different form of calidity due to it being a female fronted band, by the time that the entire nation was hooked on this ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ rivalry, it was as if every other britpop band had been washed away from existence, due to eight boys arguing as to whom had the better music. And the better looks, according to Liam Gallagher.

Tonight was the night of the Brit awards, perhaps the most prestigious awards ceremony for music. To be awarded a Brit was probably the largest achievement possible in British music in the form of an award, and it was definitely either going tonight to either Blur or Oasis. The chances that another band, say Pulp, were to get the award, would not only be extremely amusing to see the reactions of the two biggest names in the Britpop game, but would also cause the largest uproar in the nation. It’s either Blur or Oasis. “Their drama is so silly,” laughed Emily, the guitarist in our band whilst flicking through the latest edition of the Sun, the cover of the newspaper being, of course, Liam Gallagher. “They’re literally bickering about who looks the best. How do people find this interesting?”

“Because of how silly it is, people never leave their secondary-school-like selves. Just a bit of fun I guess.” I replied, fixing up my hair in the mirror in front of me. We were currently getting ready to go to the award show, and needing to look your best was an expectation. Though I wasn’t dressed in anything that would result in jaw’s dropping, it was important that I at least appeared somewhat admirable - the entire nation always had their eyes on us, but tonight they were going to see us all, live. Perhaps the reason why bands like Oasis and Blur are so obsessed over nowadays, since all they’ll do is turn up in some flimsy Adidas t-shirt and call that fashion. I suppose scruffy was the new elegant.

“Who do you think they’ll give the award to?” she questioned, still aimlessly flicking through the recycled pages of the magazine. “I think Oasis. Their music is so much better than Blurs.”

“Really? I’d say Blur. They won on top of the pops, so the likelihood of them winning the Brit award is highly likely,” I answered, shuffling away from the strong reflection of myself towards Emily, my eyes quickly scanning the page that she had her eye on currently. “Gosh Liam’s so full of himself.”

“He’s got his eye on you, you know,” She said, shoving the paragraph she had just read in my face of Liam boasting about his little crush he had supposedly gained from watching our latest performance on top of the pops. “Thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

Scoffing in response, I mumbled back to Emily. “If he thinks that he’s sleeping with me, he’s very deluded.”

By the time we had arrived at the venue, you weren’t able to walk into the entrance without at least 50 cameras blinding your eyes and the shouts of so many begging for you to quickly turn your head and grin - the price for the photo would reach the many thousands. Once walking in, it was less crowded, only having select people by the ground floor, dedicated for musicians and bands, with the occasional interviewer walking past to every circled table, adorned with white cloth and champagne glasses, asking questions about how they’re feeling, who they think may win, and what they thought of the music throughout the past year. What was nice was that people didn’t have that much interaction with one another, just with their groups. It created a sense of formality in the space, which made me feel a bit at ease from the idea of some random row happening in the middle of the floor, most likely between Liam and Damon. The past year in music was truly something. Britpop was at its peak the entirety of the year, with songs like Parklife and Supersonic pouring out of every radio station in Britain that by the end of the year, you had ditched casual radio music and began blasting the classical station. It was a nightmare. Since the fall of grunge subsequent to Cobain’s death the previous year, the talk of any other genre in Britain apart from Britpop didn’t occur. It was as if we were living on this mystical island, miles away from any other music and culture, whilst adorning and obsessing over our own. What was nice about Britpop was that it was a pure celebration of English culture, whether it be a simple Sunday roast, or going to school, they all carried the same ambience of nostalgia and pride - also disregarding whichever band wrote what song.

“Free champagne… Yes please,” said Madeline, the secondary guitarist of the band, whilst heading to the first seat she could sit on, then quickly indulging herself with the first taste of the rich drink. “Oh my gosh it’s heavenly!”

Laughing at her reaction, the rest of the band took a seat around the table and took their first sips of the champagne, which we would all come to find to be indeed heavenly. Small talk was shared here and there with the rest of the group, but overall I stayed silent. In all honesty I found attending award shows was quite boring because if you didn’t end up getting an award, you would essentially be sitting there for two hours doing nothing. Even if you did win an award, it’s simply a minute of glory with the speakers blasting your music, and another minute of all eyes piercing into your soul as you make sentences about your gratitude towards those who had helped you along the way to earn such an achievement. I doubt anybody genuinely liked attending shows like these.

“The champagne is good, yet we don’t get enough for our table,” I complained, grasping my now empty champagne glass and waving it around in the air. “I’m gonna head to the bar to get a refill, anybody want anything?”

After receiving a handful of nos from the rest of the band, I took myself out of my seat and wandered over to the bar, which was empty, perhaps due to the venue not yet being completely filled with all the artists that were set to attend the night. “Just a refill of the champagne, please.” I asked politely, handing the bartender the used glass I had kept in my hand. Whilst waiting, I noticed that Damon was on the other side of the bar, who also didn’t notice me there, until he caught eyes with me.

A grin broke out on his face as I walked over to him. “You alright?” He asked me, quickly thanking the bartender for his drink and turning back to look at me. The height difference between us was evident, but it wasn’t the case of something so dramatic that he was the height of the empire state building and me, just a measly common tower in the city. He looked quite content, his hair scruffy yet neat, along with his outfit being just as I had assumed: a white shirt with jeans, a used pair of Adidas for shoes.

I smiled back at him and nodded. “Suppose you have high hopes for the award tonight.” I said, simultaneously receiving my refill of the beverage I had ordered, followed by my thanks. We stood adjacent, although there was enough distance between us to establish our relationship - mutual acquaintances whom had met every now and again, since they’ve both been dragged into this wormhole of madness. He was quite the opposite in comparison to his rivals, though he himself could be quite bothersome occasionally, he still had a grasp to what those may call sensibility.

“Oh well we’re better than them, aren’t we love?'' He chirped, his head now cocked to the side in a teasing manner. “I’ve heard that you’re rooting for us this year.” He added, a little smirk pasted on his face.

“Do you read every paper you see?” I questioned, my face turning away from him in slight embarrassment. Between us, there was no shared intention for a relationship to stem, though there was definitely a flirtatious tension that followed between us wherever we had met. Whether it be a random photoshoot for a magazine double-spread, or backstage at top of the pops, we always managed to share a chat with one another, and nothing else followed on from then. It was quite sad, because once you’ve established a connection between something you either both disagree or agree with in terms of societal views, something in the press, or life in general, you’re instantaneously cut off and asked to hop onto stage to record a meaningless three-minute performance with fake, plastic instruments which practically mean nothing.

“Well it was nice seeing someone else's face on the papers for once.” He replied, downing his drink, then ushering at the bartender for another. A thing that we both realised was that, between our conversations, we indirectly indicated that we were both there for each other, because we both had a complete understanding towards what may be happening to the other person. It was stressful being in the limelight constantly, and for someone who was the frontman of a band so large, with his face plastered on every magazine cover imaginable, things were bound to be stressful.

Sighing, I turned to face him again. Despite the fact that before I had the ability to respond, our conversation was cut short from a voice shouting my name from behind. “Well if it isn’t bloody Y/N.” the voice said, and from then I instantly knew it was Liam’s. Turning my face away from Damon’s, I locked eyes with Liam. As always, he was dressed in the usual: a parka, with casual jeans. Oh, and don’t forget the Adidas shoes. Even though he and Damon practically hated each other’s guts, they always seemed to have similar fashion senses, but I could never picture Damon in a parka. And I don’t think I even want to.

“How’ve you been love?” He asked, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a warm, but nonchalant manner. Me and Liam had a similar relationship to that of mine and Damons, simply just minusing the sentimentality of it. We were friends, and had come across each other at random parties, which opened the gateway for us to drink and get high together many a time. While he was quite the idiot, he was also a very fun guy to be around, but I knew Damon would never understand that. “And why’re you letting this twat chat to you?”

A laugh escaped Damon’s throat. “I think you’re the only twat here, Liam,” he began, a sigh leaving my mouth as I was trapped in a situation that I could only pray didn’t gain much traction from the rest of the attendees. “Me and Y/N are friends, don’t suppose we’re getting jealous are we?”

Liam’s grip on my shoulder tightened as I stared at his reaction to Damon. I felt quite small in this situation, due to me needing to tilt my head a good amount to properly look at Liam, and knowing if I left it would just erupt chaos and make it worse. “No need for me to be jealous when I know that she wouldn’t want to spend a minute with you in bed you bastard.”

“And you’re so sure about that are you?” Damon replied, amusement laced in his words. “Because you’ve totally spent a minute with her haven’t you?”

“Well I’ve got my arm around her haven’t I? And she’s not stopping me,” Liam argued back, a smirk entwined on his lips. Reaching for my hand, Liam grasped it lightly, then then brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it gently. Method of intimidation, perhaps, and though it was sweet, there was a time and place. And this was definitely neither the time, or place. “Who’s the jealous one now, eh?”

“The last I recall, she had hoped that we were winning this year, not you,” He boasted, moving the contents of his drink around whilst grasping it firmly. Whilst it would be something that would offend Liam, he was simply the type of person to not take criticism regardless of whomever it was coming from. I respected him for that. “So much so for a healthy relationship.” Damon mocked, staring into my eyes as a small laugh escaped my lips.

Granted that I had found the argument shared between the pair of them to be extremely silly, it was good entertainment as the time passed before the award show would begin. Watching them both, attempting to throw insults at one another, each one trying to cut a little deeper than the one previous, made me almost laugh at the both of them right there. “You know, it’s so silly that you both think you know me so well to think which one I’d pick from the both of you,” I said, detaching myself from Liam’s embrace and snatching my half-empty glass of champagne. “At this point, it’s neither of you.”

Walking back to my band’s designated table, I quietly took my seat as the show began. “Saw you chatting to Damon,” Emily whispered, raising her eyebrows. “Also saw you grinning like a madwoman.”

“Oh shut up you,” I replied, looking back at the bar to notice that both parties had left, assuming back to their places. “There’s nothing going on between me and Damon- Liam too in fact.”

~~~

As the ceremony went on, the boredom got to us. Even the amount of drinks I had didn’t entertain me, but what could we do, we were stuck in the middle of an award show celebrating music, even though I had largely doubted that the majority of those attending were enjoying themselves. I had no clue who the awards were going to be handed out to, and whether that somebody may be us in a category, but we all knew Blur were going to win something. Yes, Oasis had gained a lot of fame and had become one of the most famous bands in the music scene at the minute, but by the way things had gone for Blur after the release of Parklife, things only seemed to go further up from there. And that was only proven to be truthful, after Blur had left with four different awards.

After Blur had received their fourth award for best British group, we all knew that there was nothing left for Oasis. “They’ll get it all next year, they only debuted this year you know.” I said to the table, who were staring at the four smiley boys on stage as they trotted up to receive their award. I admired Damon as he said his speech, then also turning to look over at Liam, who looked quite evidently pissed off. He was practically drooling in anger from the sight brought to him at that particular moment, and I couldn’t blame him - their band hadn't gone home with one award that night, but neither had ours. “They’ve taken four awards home, isn’t that like, the most anybody has ever taken?”

“Indeed it is,” Madeline replied, taking a sip from her drink. “Must be a good year for them then, eh?”

As I watched the band leave the stage in absolute glee, I stared at Damon as he walked back to his designated seat for the short remainder of the evening. Despite the fact that my band had been sat in our seats the entire evening in complete boredom, just like Oasis and so many other acts that had been nominated for pointless awards, it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t proud of how far Blur as a whole had come and evolved through their music, and especially Damon. From beginning as young, bowl-cut boys only charting so far on top of the pops, to creating songs and melodies that could unite our entire nation, it was impressive.

Damon was the face of Britain at this very moment, and a very good looking one. Once I watched him sit down, he scanned the room for a while until he was able to find where I was sitting, which was parallel to his seat, merely a couple metres away. He connected eyes with me as soon as he found me, also accompanied with a small smirk painted on his expression as he raised his eyebrows and sent me a wink. I simply smiled back at him in response before turning away abruptly, disrupting the little moment we seemingly shared, and though I felt my heart flutter a little, he’s definitely not winning me that easily.

#britpop #fanfic #bandimagines #Liam Gallagher x reader #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #Liam Gallagher #oasis #blur band #oasis band #my writing #fluff #angst

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years ago

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This Gravitational Pull

Summary: Penelope Garcia sets her two best friends Derek & Spencer up on a blind first date. Even with the best intentions and highest expectations, no-one could've predicted it would go quite this well.

Tags: fluff, first date, au: diff first meeting, shy spencer, insecurity, anxiety, flirting, cuddling, protective derek, silly amounts of affection

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I started writing this and then realised that I'd set their date in a pub's beer garden? I googled it and apparently they are a thing in America so I kept it in. I don't know how common they are, but I hope it's all good and you can picture the setting just fine.

Spencer really wishes he hadn’t agreed to this blind date.

Not because he doesn’t trust Penelope — he does, he trusts her implicitly and entirely — but because it's a blisteringly hot day in late July and the heat compounded by his shaking nerves is making for a rather unpleasant sweating situation.

A bumblebee buzzes quietly around the table he’s sat at, briefly interested in the iced coffee he’s got his hands wrapped around, and Spencer watches it with a gentle sort of intrigue, able to briefly take his mind off the impending date. He knows that Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan is physically attractive, Penelope had made that more than clear with both her copious photos of him and the way she’s sung his praises since she started working at the FBI, but if anything, that just makes him more nervous. If Derek wasn’t his type, then he wouldn’t have as much to lose.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he heaves a small sigh. Worst case scenario, he can run home to his apartment, order Indian food, bury himself in the early edition of War and Peace he just won in an auction and forget that this date ever happened.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?”

A surprisingly deep and sexy voice has him looking up from the watch face he’s been staring at perhaps a little too intensely, and he’s instantly taken aback by the Greek God standing in front of him. He’d known Derek was attractive, he'd seen pictures of him, but no camera could ever hope to do someone so beautiful any semblance of justice.

“Uh, y-yes, um, yeah. That’s me.” He shakes his head to try and recover his awkward word stumbling before discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers and standing up to shake Derek’s hand. “You’re Derek?”

“The one and only,” Derek says cheekily, shooting Spencer a grin that already has his stomach churning with a mix of excitement and crippling nerves. “Penelope told me you were gorgeous, but let me tell you, she really undersold it, pretty boy.”

His cheeks instantly flush red as he fights to maintain eye contact, blinking owlishly at the other man. Did he really just say that?

“I was going to say the same thing.”

Derek’s grin only widens. “Well, it looks like Penelope matched us well, then.”

This time Spencer allows himself to briefly duck his head as a baffling mix of pleasure and mortification swim around his chest. He puts it down to inexperience. Any other explanation will only compound his embarrassment.

“She did,” he agrees, smiling over at Derek and hoping desperately that he’s managing to stay cooler on the outside than he is on the inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

Derek nods. “I’ll go and order a beer at the bar. Do you want anything or are you okay with that coffee?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you,” Spencer says, and mentally he praises himself for finally getting out a coherent sentence that doesn’t sound hopelessly mangled and flustered.

He watches Derek as he strides into the pub, looking as cool and confident as his looks and personality allow, and he realises that he really does just have a way about him. The bar is relatively crowded due to the blinding heat on a Saturday afternoon, but the bartender serves him instantly, all the girls eyeing him interestedly and the guys knocking his shoulder and joking about with him as though they’re all easy, long-time friends.

It’s nice, Spencer thinks, to be the focus of someone like that’s attention. Derek could have his pick of most people drinking here, but he only has eyes for Spencer as he comes back out, holding a tall pint and wearing a happy, focused expression as he sits back down.

“Do you not drink?” Derek asks curiously and without judgement, gesturing to his coffee.

“I go out with my friends sometimes,” Spencer says, blushing again, “but I’m a bit of a lightweight, and that’s not the best state of mind to be in on any first date, let alone a blind one.”

Derek chuckles warmly at that, and the sound is a pleasant rumble reminiscent of a distant thunderstorm. Spencer wants to melt into it.

“I think I’d like to see you all messy on a night out, pretty boy,” Derek says wryly, still grinning shamelessly, and Spencer gets the distinct impression that this ‘pretty boy’ business is going to be a Thing between them.

Spencer cocks his head and takes a sip of his coffee through the long metal straw. “Maybe you’ll have to join us some time.”

“Does that mean we’re going on another date?” Derek asks, but before Spencer can panic that he’s said the wrong thing, he’s smoothly continuing. “Because I’m more than down for that.”

“You are?”

“Pretty boy, you ever looked in the mirror?” Derek demands playfully. “Add that to this cute little nerdy bashful doctor thing you got going on and you’re the whole package. Of course I want another date with you, and we’ve barely even started this one.”

Spencer flushes bright pink at that, and decides to move the conversation on before he melts into a literal puddle in the middle of this beer garden. “So you know Penelope through work?”

Derek gets the hint. “I was part of the group that arrested her, actually,” he chuckles, “and I thought she was gonna be a nightmare to work with when we gave her the option of working for the FBI instead of going to prison. But then she showed up on her first day decked out from head to toe in pink and yellow, her hair dyed back to her natural blonde, and the way she smiled when I called her baby girl… well, it was smooth sailing from then on. Did you know her back in her Black Queen days?”

“I was her one phone call,” Spencer answers, his face splitting into an easy grin as they discuss his favourite person on planet earth. “I was terrified she was going to jail and I’d lose her forever, so I was over the moon when you guys offered her that deal. We went to get our hair done together the very next day.”

“Oh yeah? And what did Pretty Boy have done to his hair, hm?”

Spencer blushes. “Let’s just say she wasn’t the only one who had a rebellious phase?”

“Now that I have got to know more about.”

“Save it for date number two, SSA Morgan,” Spencer shoots back, relaxing into the easy banter between them.

“Alright, alright, baby, I can do that,” he says, winking again. Thankfully, Spencer manages not to do an embarrassing impression of a traffic light this time. “How did you and Penelope meet?”

“Back in college actually,” Spencer nods. “She was sort of going off the rails after her parents’ death, but I think finding a scared 12 year old in her Geography elective helped her rein it in a bit. We’ve been glued at the hip pretty much since we met. Even when I went to MIT for a bit to complete my Engineering PhD, she came with me. Since her job back then was mostly hacking and some supplemental side jobs, it didn’t really matter where she was based, she was just hellbent on protecting me like she has ever since that first Geography class.”

“Wow,” Derek says, looking genuinely shocked as he leans back a little bit, eyeing Spencer with curious eyes. “You went to college when you were twelve? I’m glad you had Penelope because that could’ve been a disaster.”

“It kind of was,” Spencer nods, laughing a little. “But it meant that I had five degrees including three doctorates by the time I was twenty-one so I wasn’t too mad about it.”

Derek stares at him consideringly, the soft smile on his face making Spencer’s stomach fill with butterflies. “You’re quite the genius aren’t you?”

“Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

Derek laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely a genius. I mean, Penelope told me you were clever, but this is like… insane. Are you sure you’re okay to go out with a mere mortal like me or should I see myself out?”

“Yeah actually, Derek, sorry, it’s not going to work out,” Spencer says, feigning seriousness. “I can’t be with anybody who’s not within twenty IQ points of me or doesn’t have at least two PhDs.”

“A good actor, too? What don’t you have going for you, pretty boy?” He laughs in that wild and free kind of way Spencer always wishes he could, and he wonders whether Derek could teach him how.

Derek watches him like there’s something special about Spencer as the sound of their laughter mingles, looks at him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but right here, right now, and the warm intensity of it has a buzz going in Spencer’s chest, a pleasant feeling he can’t imagine anything dousing, and he never wants Derek to take his eyes off him again. Not if this is how it’s always going to make him feel.

The hours of the afternoon fly by and all of a sudden the sun is setting and they’re feeling distinctly hungry.

“How do you feel about getting some street food and taking a wander down to the beach?” Derek suggests hopefully, and Spencer can’t help the wide grin that splits his cheeks at the idea.

“Let’s do it.”

The beach is slightly cooler than the garden now the sun is setting and a soft, salty breeze is floating in from the ocean, so they sit close together in the sand, sharing their servings of nachos and fries between them.

“What’s your family like?” Spencer asks, a little daringly after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.

Derek smiles. “They’re amazing. It’s been just me, my mom, and my two sisters since I was ten years old, but I think losing my dad only brought us closer together, y’know? We had to learn from a young age how to rely on each other, and we were also taught the very valuable lesson of just how important family is and how nothing in life is guaranteed, so we’ve made every effort to be as close to one another as possible.”

Spencer watches with quiet admiration as Derek gushes about his family, and takes another bite of their nachos. “Do they live locally?”

“No, they’re all still back in Chicago,” Derek says. “It’s sad sometimes, being so far away from them, but they would have killed me if I’d stuck around back home just for them and hadn’t chased my dream of climbing the ladder of the FBI.”

Spencer nods, chuckling along with Derek as they stare out at the quiet, tumbling waves of the ocean.

“What about you?” Derek asks. “Are you close with your family?”

Shit. He hadn’t exactly considered that asking Derek about his family would lead to reverse questioning about his own. I mean, call him a genius all you want, but social interaction is not his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s just me and my mom. She lives back in Vegas,” he explains, clearing his throat awkwardly as he hopes that’s enough to appease his date.

Truthfully, it probably would have been, but Derek doesn’t say anything immediately, and the silence feels like it’s choking him into admitting the truth, however much it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip with anxiety. What if this is it? What if Derek doesn’t want to start something with someone who has a family history as fucked up as his? What if he reads between the lines and sees that Spencer could be just like his mom in the future, and thinks that starting a relationship is just too risky?

“She has paranoid schizophrenia,” he blurts out, the words rolling off his tongue without his express permission, and instead of shutting up, they just keep coming. “When my dad left when I was ten, I had to be her sole carer until I left for college at twelve, but even then she refused professional help and medication, so I was taking the train from Pasadena to Las Vegas every weekend to try and help her out, and it got messy a lot of the time. It was only when I turned eighteen that things got a little bit easier, and that was only because I betrayed her trust and had her sectioned into a Sanitorium.

“They’re amazing, they take really good care of her and I did my research obviously, but I think a part of her still resents me for doing that.”

He stares out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before he suddenly realises where he is and what he’s just done.

“Oh my god,” he says as horror and dread fill him from the bottom up, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just dumped all that on you, I’m sorry, just—”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says gently, placing a reassuring hand on his back to get his attention. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m just happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me all of that, and besides, I asked the question, and I meant it. I wanted to know the answer.”

Spencer feels some of the panic recede a little, and he looks up at Derek to try and gauge whether he’s telling the truth. “Really?”

Derek’s expression only softens further. “Really.”

He relaxes a little further and leans into Derek’s side, smiling to himself when Derek wraps his arm fully around his waist, resting his head on top of Spencer’s.

“I feel like I’ve known you way longer than just four hours and fifty six minutes,” Spencer says eventually.

Derek chuckles, and this time Spencer can feel the low rumble against his cheek as well as hear it. “It might be the biggest cliche in the book, but I feel exactly the same, baby.”

“I think sharing street food on the beach while staring out at a sunset as romantic and beautiful as that one has cemented the cliches in this date enough already,” Spencer points out, laughing a little.

“That is very true,” Derek agrees, squeezing his hand against Spencer’s waist. “We could round all the cliches off with a kiss, if you’d like.”

Spencer sits upright, blushing again as he eyes Derek’s flirtatious but serious expression. “I’d like that a lot.”

Derek wastes no time in taking Spencer’s jaw in his hand and leaning in slowly to place a long, sensuous kiss to his lips. Spencer kisses back with as much control as is possible when your experience is next to none and you have one of the most beautiful men in the world turning your stomach inside out with his attention, but it seems to be enough for Derek because as soon as they pull away, he’s grinning widely.

“You’re quite the kisser, pretty boy.”

Spencer fights the blush but it comes anyway. “I like that.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The kiss?”

“No, the pet names.”

Derek’s expression smooths out and he smiles again, a little more tenderly than his usual cheeky grin. “Well, that’s good, because I have plenty more up my sleeve, sweetheart.”

Spencer flushes with pleasure this time and settles back against Derek’s side, observing the blue sea as they settle into silence once more.

“I’m not very used to all of this, by the way,” he says after a while, the sky slowly darkening.

“Used to what?”

“This. Kissing. Dating. Pet names.”

Derek looks down at Spencer to try and get a better look at his face. “Really? You could’ve fooled me.”

“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before, and this is only the second date I’ve ever been on.”

“Any girlfriends?”

“Not really my area.”

“And this other date, was that with boyfriend number one?”

Spencer shakes his head against Derek’s shoulder. “No, I never went on a date with him. I met him in college and we were friends first, so we never really dated, just fell into a relationship.”

“Ah.” A brief silence settles over them again, but Derek doesn’t let it hang long. “You know I’m not bothered by any of that, right? You could have never dated anyone ever before or have screwed your way round half of California and DC and it wouldn’t matter a single bit. Not if you were here with me, right now.”

He laughs softly as Derek lightens the mood, and something in Spencer’s chest feels like it falls into place at that, like his last anxious reservation has been washed away and he can really move forward, forge onward with this scarily exciting endeavour.

“You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. You know that, right?”

Derek kisses the top of his head. “I do,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s ever sounded quite as special falling from anyone else’s lips as it does falling from yours.”

Further down the beach, another wave crashes against the shore, and the colours of the sunset fade away slowly. People pack up their picnic baskets and head home, and seagulls attack their leftovers, but none of that matters, because right now, Spencer’s world is Derek Morgan.

Penelope Garcia deserves a medal.

(Yes, I've used that "yeah I guess I'm a genius" sequence in way too many fics, leave me ALONE. )

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butgilinsky · 4 years ago

Text

there are answers in your silence // mb

warning; language, asshole (kinda toxic ngl) barzy, a sprinkle of asshole tito too, toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, angst- the whole thing is angst, carter hart

summary; where you and mat are falling apart faster than you can try to fix it.

word count; 8.3k+

a/n: hi guys! this is a rewrite/continuation of this blurb i wrote. the main pairing is mat x reader but there are a lot of carter x reader themes throughout. there won’t be a part two seeing as i don’t normally write for carter, and i like where it left off. if you have any questions i’d be happy to answer any(: enjoy!

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

You loved your job, truly. You loved photography, and you loved the opportunities you’d been given by joining the islanders organization, but you managed to make things messy for yourself. It wasn’t written into your contract that you couldn’t date the players, but it was assumed that you would distance yourself from them.

Mathew Barzal, however, threw caution to the wind when it came to that unspoken rule.

You were knee deep in it by the time you realized it was a bad idea. Most days were fine, the two of you were professional in the walls of the rink and you knew how to keep it under control. On any other day, you were capable of keeping it all under control just fine, but going to the rink and smiling at Mat from across the halls was not the same as coming to the rink when the two of you were neck deep in an argument. An argument that had been oncoming for a long time now.

You couldn’t focus on anything when you were arguing with Mat. You had fallen behind on editing this entire week, and now you were tiptoeing around the rink that you worked at because Mat was everywhere you turned, it seemed.

You kept your post at the glass throughout the entirety of the game against the Devils, trying to get yourself out of your head when Mat was in your camera’s line of sight. You took pictures of the whole team, you had to, it was your job, but it was hard to do that when Mat was smiling like an idiot after Tito scored, and you had to take a picture of their shared celly.

Even when he turned towards you and you sent him a gentle smile, the sight of his falling from his lips was heartbreaking. You knew he was mad at you, but the ache in your chest wasn’t able to recognize the fact that the two of you weren’t on the best terms.

Truth be told, this was anything but out of the blue. Mat had been on edge for a while now, and while you knew it had everything to do with hockey and how he was playing, it wasn’t easy to accept everything he had been continuously throwing at you. You had a lot going on, just like he did, and you didn’t have the time nor energy to exude on this week-long argument. A week long argument that had eventually shifted into radio silence from your boyfriend.

The next few days proved to be harder than you initially expected, no conclusion being found between the two of you. It was getting out of hand, if you were being honest, and now you had to fly to Philadelphia with the team for two games. You didn’t think all that much about the ride over to Philly until you were faced with your boyfriend happily sitting beside his best friend, not a seat for you in sight.

You sat at the front of the plane, shoulder bumping against Marty’s while you kept your head low and hopefully out of sight.

“What’s up with you and Barzy?” you huffed, shrugging gently and telling Matt that he could tell you as soon as he figured it out because at this point, you weren’t entirely sure what the two of you were arguing about either. All you knew was that Mat was mad at you and had been ignoring your calls and texts for the past three days.

It was confusing to most, given that when you and Mat were on good terms, it was impossible to not see the two of you together. You were both all smiles and giggles when you were around each other, but not recently. You were worried that your spark had died out, that whatever you had built over the last year was fading away with every passing moment, and you were out of solutions.

You had been lost in the Wells Fargo Center for upwards of thirty minutes when you ran into a boy who seemed like he could be your saving grace. He had a granola bar hanging out of his mouth and his eyes were glued to his phone screen while he walked down the hall in your direction. You weren’t sure who he was, but the Flyers shirt on his torso paired with the backwards hat on led you to believe he was a player and would therefore know the layout of the rink quite well.

“Hey!” you called out, just loud enough to have him looking up from his phone and over to you. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I have no idea where i’m going.”

He laughed gently and slid his phone into his back pocket, not overlooking the Islanders logo on your shirt or your name tag that hung around your neck. His eyes were soft and his smile was endearing in a time where you barely had anyone else look at you over the last few days.

“No worries, though i’m not sure i should be helping the enemy.” you laughed gently, about to make a remark about the Flyers not being your favorite team either, but he spoke again before you had the chance. “Where do you need to be?”

Some time later after you learned that the boy’s name was Carter and he was the Flyers’ goalie, he showed you everywhere you’d need to be over the next few hours. He pointed out different rooms and halls that would be of great use to you and now the two of you were sitting in the middle of the empty seats, looking down on the empty ice.

“It’s weird, seeing it like this.” Carter whispered softly, more to himself than to you, but it caught your ear nonetheless.

“Not used to seeing it completely empty?” he shook his head, telling you that there’s usually always someone down there. Whether they’re cleaning or moving things around, there’s almost always somebody down there.

“Why are you here all alone, by the way?” you hummed softly, letting out a deep sigh with a smile that Carter was easily able to identify as forced. “Don’t you have a hot shot boyfriend that could show you around?”

“And how would you know that?” your voice was light, playful, and it showed in your smile that Carter easily matched.

“I’m not sure there’s a single person that doesn’t know what Mathew Barzal’s girlfriend looks like.” he tore his eyes away from the rink, looking over at you with a look that had your stomach turning, a lump starting to form in the pit of your throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” your voice was soft but the silence across the rest of the rink was enough to lift your words up to his ears, the far corner of his mouth twitching up ever so slightly as he registered them.

“Y/n!” you jumped, startled by the outburst from the top of the section, craning your neck around to lock eyes with your boyfriend. “Where have you been?”

You groaned, one that resided in the back of your throat and was only heard by Carter due to his close proximity. He sensed the agitation in your body language and the way your eyes fluttered shut while you took a deep breath to compose yourself.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming!” you yelled back, muttering a small ‘jesus’ under your breath before pushing yourself onto your feet. “Well, Mr. Hart, thank you for showing me around. I’d be lost without you, literally.”

He laughed at your joke, though corny he thought it was cute. He shook your hand playfully and watched you climb the stairs to your boyfriend who was glaring at Carter even from his place all the way at the top of the section.

“What are you doing down here?”

“So you’re talking to me now?” His jaw clenched, muscles tensing as he soaked in your question. He had almost forgotten the two of you were arguing currently, too focused on getting you away from Carter to assess the situation properly.

“What am i supposed to do? Watch you cozy up beside the goalie I'm about to score a hatty on?” in any other scenario, you’d be laughing, chirping him for claiming that he was going to score a hatty tonight, but you couldn’t do that right now. All you could do was laugh bitterly, focused on the fact that the only reason he was speaking to you for the first time in three days was rooted in jealousy.

“I wasn't cozying up next to anybody, Mat. I was lost and he had time to spare so he showed me around the rink. That’s all-”

"That’s not exactly how it looked to me just now.” you rolled your eyes and walked past him, ducking around his shoulder and walking in the direction of the room Carter pointed out for you a few minutes earlier. “Y/n! We’re talking!”

“I’m busy! We’ll talk later!”

It felt like you were running across the arena during the game, opting to tie your hair back halfway through the first period when you realized you wouldn’t have your own post like you normally would. You were doing your best to get the best shots you could possibly get, but that unfortunately had you breathing heavily and worn out by the time the second intermission rolled around.

Mat hadn’t scored once yet, and you could tell he was getting aggravated. He was playing rougher than he normally would, and you could see chirps being thrown around the ice, almost always directed towards your boyfriend. He took them in stride most times, only opting for a clenched jaw or maybe a hard hit against the boards.

When the second intermission began, you were given the okay to take a breather from your job while your boss flipped through the photos on your camera, laughing when you opted to lean back in one of the stadium seats with your limbs spread out around you haphazardly.

When you were switching sides for the nth time of the night, you ran into Carter again, decked out in his gear void of his helmet, the same charming smile shining in your direction once he saw you.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he joked, earning a few questioning glances from the few teammates gathered around him, all turning towards you with soft smirks and knowing eyes. They knew who you were, a lot of guys in the league knew who you were.

Everyone knew who Mathew Barzal was, and his need to show you off to the entire world once the two of you began dating was loud and in everyone’s face. Everyone who followed Mat on instagram or opened up a gossip article every now and again knew your face, knew how you looked tucked under Mat’s arm. It also didn’t help that the boys surrounding Carter had heard about his adventure with you around the rink earlier today.

“Well if it isn’t Mrs. Barzal.” You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the insult tickling the tip of your tongue and deciding to focus on Carter nudging him in the ribs.

“Ignore him, he’s not even sure what the word filter means.” One of the taller ones, hair down to his shoulders and bright blue eyes sending you a gentle look, tried to assure you that his friend was anything but thoughtful in moments like these.

“I guess that’s why they call him the team rat, huh?” Travis, who had no idea you even knew who he was, narrowed his eyes at you just before a small smile stretched across his lips.

“How’s the game?” Carter’s smile practically hung off of his lips, confidence bursting at the seams as he silently referred to the fact that Mat had threatened him with a hatty not too long ago, and the Islanders had only scored once all night long, and it wasn’t even Mat’s.

Going into the third period, the Flyers were up 4-1.

“I plead the fifth.” you said gently, hearing a few laughs erupt all around you.

“Looks like your hubby’s not getting his hatty tonight.” One of the boys who you didn’t know the name of sent you a gentle elbow into your arm, offering up a smile with his chirp.

“Looks like he’s not getting a lot of things tonight.” your eyes found Carter, who was already looking at you with a wide smile. You took a deep breath, prying your eyes away from the boy and looking around the small circle that formed in the hall. “Well, boys, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Y/n!” you sighed then, unable to suppress a physical reaction to having your name yelled across the hall for the second time today. You were annoyed, given that this was only the second time Mat was speaking to you today and it had all of the same intentions as his last attempt.

“Yes?” you turned over your shoulder to see not only Mat but Tito as well, both looking at you as if you’d grown two extra heads. Tito looked to Mat, expecting him to answer your questioning eyes, but he never did. He just stared at you, lips parted but never speaking.

Truth be told, you needed him to say something. You needed him to say something because he was the one that had left you in the dark this week. He was the one that was going through a time so tough he took it out on you. You did your part, but Mat had yet to do his part, and it was killing you on the inside.

“I have to go.” you took off in the direction you were originally walking, searching for your next post in the stands.

You tried to distract yourself, but it didn’t seem to be working. Your hands were shaky while you tried to snap shots as much as you could, and when Mat had a breakdown on the ice, it all went even further downhill.

Carter didn’t take the brute of it, which surprised you in all honesty, but you weren’t all that surprised when your number 13 was going hit for hit with their 11. Gloves were dropped in the last three minutes of the game, both of them walking away with sore knuckles and five minute majors.

You weren’t even sure what started it, seeing as you were trying to snap a picture of Tito taking a shot on goal, the other two dropping their gloves on a different part of the ice and out of your view. You couldn’t watch it, instead dug your chin into your chest and tugged on the roots of your hair in frustration. You knew that the Flyers were going to win, given their four goal lead and the Islanders’ inability to get their shit together it seemed. You knew Mat was going to hit a rough practice tomorrow, and it somehow made you more excited to have a hotel room to yourself and the morning off.

You didn’t see Mat until you got back to your room, shoulders slumped and exhaustion raking through your body. You pushed the door to your room open and jumped a foot in the air at the sight of your boyfriend sitting at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together in his lap and head hung low. He was anxious, you could tell by his posture and the fact that he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

A sick feeling resided in your stomach when a minute passed and neither of you spoke up, both waiting for the other to take the leap. Mat tried to collect his thoughts, despite having plenty of time to do so while he waited for you. He wasn’t even sure how he made it back before you, if he was honest.

“Where have you been?” it was a bad lead in retrospect, given that he showed no real care as to where you were at any other point in the week. That on top of the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place made for a bad start to a hard conversation.

“Working, Mat. I do more than snap pictures of the team at games and run back home.” he knew that. He knew because he’d been the one that woke up in the middle of the night to you relentlessly editing things and piecing things together for a deadline. He was the one that woke up to an empty bed, finding you posted up at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee beside you and your head burning from the strain on your eyes.

You didn’t, however, tell him exactly what you were doing. You were working, yes, but you kept specifics to yourself. He didn’t deserve specifics when he was acting like this. You deserved an apology, an explanation, quite literally anything more than you currently had before you had to give out your whereabouts.

“I’m sorry this week’s been the way it has. I just- there’s a lot going on right now and I can’t get it all under control.” you sighed, setting your camera bag down on the desk before standing in front of Mat

“It’s fine if you don’t have things under control all the time.” you set your hands on his shoulders and waited for him to look up at you, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite map out. “It’s not fine that you take things out on me when I didn’t cause you this distress.”

“I know.” he spoke softly, understanding that he was doing something wrong but not entirely providing a solution for it, nor figuring out a way to fix it. “I’m going to figure it out. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, accepting the soft kiss he silently asked for. You let him stay the night, though you couldn’t fall asleep. You leaned back into his chest, held his arm that was wrapped around you close to your chest, but you couldn’t sleep. You didn’t sleep for more than an hour or two before Mat’s alarm went off and he left for practice.

You were able to sleep after Mat left, only logging about three hours before your own alarm went off and you had to make it to the rink. The day seemed to be uneventful for a while, but when you finished all of the things you had to do for the day and found a seemingly decent restaurant to stop in on your way back to the hotel, you were met with four smiling faces that you recognized easily.

“Y/n!” Carter’s voice caught your ear easily, making you spin around in line, seeing the smiling boy give you a gentle wave from the table he was sitting at with the others, all who offered you a similar expression.

You held up one of your fingers, seeing four boys nod at you in response as they waited for you to order your food. By the time you ordered and paid, grabbing the number that the cashier slid across the counter to you and spinning around, there was a chair at the end of the table that Travis was sitting in, leaving the spot in the booth beside Carter vacant. All four of the boys were pointing at the seat, ushering you into it with wide smiles.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise.” you smiled warmly at the boys as you approached their table, sliding into the seat they vacated for you.

“You’re telling us.” Carter offered, his smile cutting through you just like it did every other time it was given to you.

Carter was cute, that much you could admit to. You hadn’t spent much time with him other than the other day when showed you around the rink, but you’d talked to him more than your own boyfriend in the past week so that was saying something. You were grateful for his hospitality, and even if you knew there was something else brewing beneath the surface, it wasn’t anything you were going to acknowledge and you certainly weren’t going to act on it.

The rest of the boys were nice. Travis was a bit of a pest, but Nolan was able to keep him under control most of the time. They balanced each other out and you were aware of that from the very beginning. Joel was a nice kid, not the loudest in the room but certainly not the quietest either. Overall you had a good time sitting with and talking to them, appreciating the good company in a time where you had felt pretty isolated.

They showed you a few places around Philly, sticking things within walking distance of the restaurant the five of you came from. It was fun, being able to forget about the chaos going on in your life for once. They even walked you back to your hotel, leaving you with each of their phone numbers to assist you in the rest of your time in Philly, and warm smiles.

Just as they were leaving, Carter hung back for a bit to offer you a softer smile than the one he was giving you throughout the day, his eyes telling you that there was something brewing in his mind, something he had been holding back about all day.

“I just wanted to say that you’re doing great. I don’t know what’s going on in your life, that much is obvious, but you deserve better.” he gave you one last smile and told you to call him if you needed anything at all before turning to catch up with his teammates.

Carter’s words hung in your mind longer than you would’ve expected. They made you rethink everything that had occurred in your life over the last few months, every up and down, every bridge you built both by yourself and with others. You wondered if you were where you were supposed to be, if this is where you were meant to be in life and how long you were meant to be there.

You loved Mat. You loved him completely, but there were things missing. You weren’t sure what it was, and part of you wanted to believe that you were just in the middle of a rough patch, but a greater part of you knew better. You knew that Mat was going through the thick of it, and your mind couldn’t help but wander over the chance that the time for you and Mat had run its course.

You went another night without sleep, the stress from overthinking yourself into oblivion making it impossible to get any consistent sleep throughout the night. It showed in the way that your bags were deeper, darker than normal and the way you yawned every few minutes. However, instead of dozing off in your seat or complaining about your lack of sleep, you grabbed a coffee with two extra shots of espresso on your way to the rink and threw yourself into your work.

You were neck deep in assignments, legs tucked under you and headphones stuck in your ears when a flash of blue entered your sight, prying your eyes away from your laptop and casting them up to the blue eyed boy from Quebec. He was looking at you like you’d done something wrong, like the world was on fire around you and you were holding a match.

You and Tito were good friends, especially after you started dating Mat. with the two of them being inseparable and Mat making a special place for you in his life, you and Tito naturally spent a lot of time together. You were good friends, honestly, but there was never a time when Tito took your side over Mat’s. Sometimes he passed judgment without hearing every side of every story, but you understood. You knew that Mat needed people to lean on when the two of you were in the thick of it, you just wished it didn’t morph Tito’s opinion on you.

“What can I do for you, Beau?” he hummed, a noise of disapproval that you had heard from him too many times to count. He sat beside you, not surprised to see you shut your laptop and turn your attention towards him.

“The two of you need to figure this out soon. You need to figure out what’s wrong and how to fix it, and by god you need to get him out of his head.” You could tell his intentions were genuine, that he just wanted his friends to be happy, but he wanted the two of you to be happy together, and you weren’t sure there was any more room for that.

“I’ve tried, Beau-”

“No, you haven’t. You haven’t tried, because when the two of you try, things get resolved.”

“You’re right. When the two of us try, we fix things. When the two of us work through things together, we come out of it alive. But you’re missing the big picture, Tito. the two of us aren’t trying. I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I try so hard, and he gives me absolutely nothing. He ignores me for days, only speaks to me when we fly out to a different city and he sees me interacting with somebody who isn’t him. It’s not my fault, Tito, and I know that’s hard for you to see because you’re so far up his ass that you can’t see the bigger picture but here I am. I’m here telling you how to see things for once and I’m begging you that you just hear me out.”

He was speechless, but nodded. He didn’t know what to say to you, but he wanted to hear you out because the crack in your voice and the exhaustion that was bringing tears to our eyes was breaking his heart right in front of you.

“I’m trying, whole heartedly. I ask what’s wrong and I offer solutions, and he takes none of it. He comes into my hotel room with a key, that I'm not even sure how he got, and he tells me he’s sorry but then nothing changes. He stopped coming over after practices, and gets annoyed when I have deadlines I can’t miss. I try and he doesn’t, and if that makes us fall apart then so be it, Tito, because I can’t fucking do it anymore.” your eyes burned, filled to the brim with tears you tried to suppress as Tito looked at you like you were fragile. He looked at you like you were the broken one, like if he even touched you on the shoulder you’d break into a million pieces.

“Y/n-”

“I have to go.” you stood up, grabbing your things that sat around your seat and took off in any direction that looked safe enough for you to escape the headspace you were slipping into.

You’d made it down one hall and around a few corners before you ran into somebody, the impact shaking you enough to have you distracted from the intrusive thoughts you were having. You looked up, met with soft eyes and a look of concern that had your heart sinking further into your stomach than it already had been. His hands reached out, brushing hair out of your face and holding your head back long enough for him to try to piece together what could be wrong.

“What happened?” your lip wobbled then, enough for your chin to twitch and have you bite down roughly on your bottom lip.

Carter grabbed your hand, the one that wasn’t gripping onto your laptop, and pulled you into a room not too far from your place in the hall. It was a small room, only met for equipment that had no other home, but it was enough to get you out of the wide open hallway where anyone would be able to see the breakdown you were about to endure.

He pried the items out of your arms, set them on the shelf beside you so your mind would be at ease with their safety, and wrapped his arms around you. He didn’t know you very well, but he saw the way you reacted to physical touch. He saw the way you leaned into hugs or shook people’s hands for a second longer than most. He made a judgment call within seconds, but he knew he did the right things when you pressed your face into his chest and let out sobs that you’d been holding back for weeks.

He didn’t pester you nor rush you, just held you in the room that could be classified as a closet and let you get everything out. You clung to him, and he held you softly, hands running up and down your back in a soothing manner while he waited for you to catch your breath.

When you did, he pulled back, soft smile still as heavy as it always had been. He waited for your cue, something to tell him it was okay to pry. He didn’t want to overstep your boundaries, and he had no idea where the lines were drawn so it was a dangerous game.

“It’s too much.” you whispered softly, closing your eyes gently while Carter hummed, not entirely understanding your words.

“What’s too much?”

“Everything. Everyone’s expectations, everyone’s thoughts and opinions. The fact that i’m trying to fix a relationship all on my own and still getting the heat for it not working out. Having a full time job where I can’t run away from problems in my personal life. I wish I was still in college, wish I wasn’t surrounded by these people who are staring at me like I’ve burned down the entire planet when I’m the only one that’s trying to save it.”

He listened the whole way through, not interrupting nor giving his unwarranted thoughts and while it was just a common courtesy, it was groundbreaking for you. To be able to pour out everything you’re feeling and thinking without someone trying to pick your brain on the subject was refreshing. You couldn’t remember the last time you put everything out on the table like that without seeing it knocked off right after.

“Hey” you looked up at him, sniffling softly and watching his lips turn up in a smile at the sound. “You’re okay. It’ll all be okay. If you feel invalidated or uncomfortable in the situation you’re in, there’s always an out. Even if it feels like there’s not, even if it feels impossible to claw your way to the exit, there’s always a way out. And if you need help getting there, I know a guy or two who’d be willing to help.”

Carter had a way of knocking you off of your feet with a simple sentence. His words cut through you like a song you’d never heard before, like lyrics that dig so deep you feel like it was written just for you. Carter was picking your brain in the gentlest way possible, and you were eating up every single second of it.

You thanked him for his comfort, for his ear and his wisdom. You were sure that there were things you would have to do in the coming days that would be harder than you could’ve ever imagined, but you were sure that they were necessary in order to better your life for yourself.

You were going to get through this.

All was said and one until the door swung open and you stepped out of the equipment room, locking eyes with the one person on the Flyers bench that didn’t know the meaning of the word silence. Travis meant well most of the time, truly, but that didn’t mean you’d spill all of your secrets to him.

But he smiled at you softly, noticing your red rimmed eyes and tear tracks on your cheek. He saw the look that Carter gave him from behind you and so he simply put his fingers up to his lips as if locking them shut and tossed the key over his shoulder. It was simple, but effective, and he truly had every intention of keeping the knowledge to himself, until he was standing on the ice face to face with the centerman that dropped his gloves opposite him the other night and well, Tk found an opening.

You weren’t sure what was said, nor who started it, but you were sure that in the middle of the second period with a tied game, tensions were not high enough for there to be multiple scrums on the ice.

No other fight mattered until your eyes locked in on Mat saying something, neck vein popping out and spit flying. Whatever he said must have struck a chord with Travis because in an instant, you saw Travis’s lips moving and Mat’s fist flying. It was his second fight in two games and it was highly unlike him to fight this often, but it seemed that he was on edge.

The tension didn’t boil down for the rest of the game, chirps only growing more intense and penalties being called more often than not. It was a head banger, a nail biter, and you were almost distracted from your work to watch it.

Mat was enraged by the time you got to him. His body picked up a couple more cuts and bruises, one that landed on his right cheek bone from a high stick in the beginning of the third. His knuckles were bruised from punching Tk and his eyes were darker than the bright blue color you adored.

You knew it had everything to do with you when the rest of the team sent you careful looks, both of disapproval and warning. You knew something was wrong, something had happened and you were unintentionally standing in the middle of it. When Tito passed you, a scoff dropping from his lips and his shoulder knocking yours gently, you knew it was bad.

“Beau?”

“Oh I'm not helping you out of this one.” he said softly, a careful look thrown over his shoulder at Mat who was glaring at you from his place against the wall. “You have to go fix that one by yourself.”

You wanted to shove him away from you, wanted to tell him that he was being ridiculous and unfair, but you didn’t. Instead, you let him grab his back and walk out towards the bus that would take you all to the airport.

“Mat-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” his voice was low and dark, an animosity dripping from his tongue that you’d never heard him use before. He walked past you, leaving the rest of the guys to let out low whistles and shoot you apologetic looks because in retrospect, they witnessed what happened on the ice. You still had no idea.

“It’s bad, y/n.” You looked over at Marty who stood a few feet away from you, throwing his bag over his shoulder and shooting you a careful look. “I’ve never seen him so mad.”

You sighed and thanked him, giving him one more thanks when he said he’d save you a seat on the plane and took off after Mat. he wasn’t too far ahead, but his angry strides took him far enough to send you into a jog through the facility.

“Mat, wait! Mat! Jesus, Mat just talk to me!” he paused in stride, turned on the balls of his feet and glared into you from his place across the hall.

“Frankly, I don’t want to hear it, y/n. I don’t want to talk to you, and I don’t want to be round you. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.” he went to turn again, hoping that that was good enough to get you off of his back for now.

“So we’re just going to ignore it until it blows over? That’s not going to fix anything Mathew!” he dropped his bag, loud and harsh against the tile beneath his feet. He spun around and strode up to, face to face with mere inches between you.

“There’s nothing to fix. You made your point, you chose your side, and you chose to throw me out to the wolves like I never meant anything to you. So yes, we’re going to ignore it for now but no, it won’t blow over. If you wanted to fix things you shouldn’t be shacking up with goalies in closets.”

“I wasn’t shacking up with anybody in a closet you douche. I was crying in that closet because you’re too stubborn to talk to me. I’m trying so hard, and you’re giving me absolutely nothing to work with. You send Beau to convince me to fix things but you’re not even trying, Mat! You’re the one ignoring me and I’m supposed to fix things?”

“You’re not supposed to cheat on me!” you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling over currently. You were trying to get through this conversation but it was defeating, and having him yell at you in front of his entire team was not helping.

“I didn’t ch-”

“That’s bullshit! You expect me to believe you were just hanging out in there for fun?”

“She was crying, dude.” Mat looked over your shoulder at the same time you let out a string of profanities under your breath. Why he was here right now, you had no idea, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to help any.

“You’ve got some nerve to be here right now.” Carter shrugged, showing no intimidation towards Mat at all. He wasn’t scared, wasn’t backing down, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand by and watch Mat scream at you for something you didn’t even do.

“You’ve got some nerve to scream at her like that.” When Mat moved you pressed both of your hands into his chest, steady and hard enough to keep him in his place, not even taking a step towards Carter.

A silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable like polluted air that clogged your lungs. Everyone could feel it but nobody made a move. Nobody stood up or down, not weighing in to the conversation with a viewpoint on either side. Everyone simply watched, waiting for you or Mat to say something to the other one, or maybe for you to say something to Carter.

Mat looked down at you, eyes still dark as they were earlier, jaw clenched and breathing fairly regular. He looked angry, angrier than he ever was off the ice. You wanted him to know you didn’t do anything with Carter, nothing more than crying into his chest about problems like the one you were currently stuck in. But then he spoke, he spoke and you felt everything around you wither away.

“Get on the bus right now, or we’re through.” he picked up his bag and gave both you and Carter one final glance before taking a few steps backwards. He was waiting for you to move, waiting for you to choose your side right here, right now.

“Y/n.” Carter’s voice was much more gentle than Mat’s, giving you a break from the screaming and crying. It broke his heart when you glanced over your shoulder and showcased red rimmed eyes and wet cheks just like you had earlier. He knew you were hurting, knew you were in a sticky situation that you couldn’t find your way out of, and all he wanted to do was help.

“Now, y/n.” you looked back at Mat, who had stopped walking by now and was raising his eyebrows in your direction.

It was harder than it should’ve been. You’d known Carter for just over 48 hours and while you appreciated everything he had done for you in the short amount of time, Mat was your boyfriend. Mat was there in times you thought you’d never make it out of. He knew you, knew how you operated. He knew things about you that you didn’t even know about yourself, and he held a piece of your heart in his hands, even if he didn’t protect it the way he used to.

You couldn’t walk away from Mat, but there was a hesitation in your movements. Your slow movements as you wiped your cheeks and walked towards him, head hung low and accepting the arm that was thrown around your shoulders.

You didn’t turn to see Carter’s face, didn’t even look up to see Mat’s. You didn’t want to see either of them, didn’t want to talk to them or hear what they had to say. All you wanted right now was to crawl into your bed at home and cast out the world around you.

“You made the right choice, baby.” The kiss that dug into the side of your head was anything but comforting, if anything it was degrading. It was his way of showing you that choosing him was the easier path, that he would’ve flipped the world completely upside down if you had turned on your heels moments ago.

You and Mat didn’t come to a conclusion that night. You didn’t resolve anything nor did you truly talk about anything. Instead, you let him into your bed and you let him drive away the pain that he caused over the course of the last few weeks. You let him convince you he’d be better, that he loved you and he’d do anything to be there for you. You let him convince you that he was the one for you, that nobody could make you feel the things that he did and while you believe all of this at one point, you weren’t sure you still did.

You added another night to the count of sleepless ones, basking in your thoughts and the ache in your chest after Mat dozed off. Having him just behind you was oddly comforting despite the fact that thoughts in your head were too loud for sleep.

Another week went by before anyone said anything, despite the few Flyers that were blowing your phone up with messages to check if you were okay and ask why you went with Mat when he clearly didn’t deserve an ounce of your attention. You explained that you loved him, that he was your boyfriend and you owed him a clean break if that’s what ended up happening. You also worked with the Islanders, and you couldn’t just stay in Philly with no way to get back home and hours away from work.

Carter had been receptive and understanding, though you weren’t sure you expected much else from him. He didn’t expect you to stay, didn’t even expect you to choose him over Mat, but he expected you to do better for yourself. He expected you to be strong for yourself, to offer yourself a better future than the one you were seemingly drawing up for yourself.

It wasn’t until you got a peculiar phone call that you were even thrown out of the routine of clawing your way through the night and chasing it down with a large coffee and one too many espresso shots.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Ms. Y/l/n?”

“This is she.”

“Hi Ms. Y/l/n, this is Chuck Fletcher with the Philadelphia Flyers. I was wondering if you had a minute to talk.”

You did a 180 after that phone call, pressed with another decision to make and seemingly no time to make it. You didn’t have many people to turn to about the decision, seeing as most all of your friends were biased in their decision making. Your friends loved Mat. They loved Mat and they loved going to Islanders games.

You called Carter after you hung up the phone, anger bubbling over to the point of tears by the time he answered the phone just to let you rip into him. You accused him of getting you the job as the Flyers’ photographer just to have you closer to him, just to pry you away from Mat and New York as a whole. You accused him of not even knowing your skill level, just using this as a ploy to ask you on a date if you showed up.

He listened the whole time, waited for a break in your words to ask if you were serious, to tell you that he’d seen your portfolio because his GM brought it over when he noticed Carter had spoken to you. He told you that he had no say in you getting this job offer other than him telling his GM about the sincere interactions he’d had with you. He put in a good word for your personality, but he never made a comment about your skill level.

Now, you had a decision to make. A decision that would lead to many other decisions, so you thought. You thought you’d have to make a yes or no decision that would snowball into so many decisions you’d be left to suffocate in unanswered questions. Little did you know that by making one decision, the rest were made for you.

“You’re doing what?” you sighed, trying to find the point in this conversation where you’d be left with a new job and a happy relationship, but it seemed as though that wasn’t in the cards for you.

“I’m moving to Philly-”

“It’s because of him isn’t it?” you shook your head gently, feeling the weight of the world trying to shove you beneath the surface. It was weighing you down, pushing you further and further until you reached the core of it all.

“It’s because it’s a better job for me, Mat.”

“How in the hell is a better job for you?” he didn’t believe you. Not after everything that happened. He didn’t think there were possibly any other explanations for your move.

“It pays more, the cost of living is cheaper in Philadelphia, I get more benefits with the Flyers and I get-”

“A new boyfriend.” you paused, took a deep breath. You tried to breathe through the panic coursing through your body, tried to assure yourself that you must have heard him wrong.

“A what?”

“If you move to Philly, you get a new boyfriend. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You don’t want me anymore, you want him. So he gets you a big new fancy job and you get to leave New York, right? Because you didn’t want to live in New York your whole life so this is the time to get out. This is the time for you to leave your life behind, to start fresh and meet new people. It’s time for you to start looking for studios, right? For you to start booking freelance shit.”

He comes to the realization too late, when he’s already said enough things to hurt you for a lifetime. He realizes that you moving makes more sense than he wants it to. You never wanted to stay in New York for your whole life. Sure, if things with Mat ended up better than they did, you would’ve stayed for him in a heartbeat. You would’ve gone wherever his career took him because yours can truly be done anywhere, but he knew New York wasn’t your preferred state to live in.

The Mat you fell in love with, the one that took you on dates to your favorite restaurants and brought you home flowers just because, was finally coming back to the surface. The one that offered you his heart on a platter without asking for it, and treated yours with the gentlest touch. You were seeing him again, for the first time in a long time. You wanted to hold onto him, to open up your heart and make room for him again but the truth was there was no more room. You’d vacated a space for him a long time ago and he threw it away. It was too late for that Mat to come back.

“It’s giving you room to grow right? But the growth is different this time. The growth is away from me, apart from me. The growth is individual now, all on your own, but that’s good. That’s good because you need to grow and I- I’m not right for you anymore.” he started shaking his head, letting the dam of tears that he had kept in for so long finally burst.

You were there to catch him, to hold him tightly and kiss his damp cheeks. You were there to assure him that he deserves the world, that you tried to give that to him but truthfully, maybe you just weren’t trying the right things. You assured him that he wasn’t a bad person, that he wasn’t good for you but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be good for somebody else.

You were there to catch Mat when he fell, and you helped him stand back up again.

Now you were walking away, your head held high and a smile finally living on your lips as you assured him that this was good for both of you in more ways than one. You were going to be okay, and you were sure that Mat was going to be okay too.

So you moved to Philly. You moved into an apartment not too far from the rink, one with a cheese steak place right around the corner. You started working with the Flyers and seemingly fell right into place with them. You made friends and found your footing, feeling like everything leading up to now was exactly for this. All of the pain and hardships you endured was for this, for you to feel like you had finally done the right thing for yourself rather than for everyone else.

You made the right decision.

italics mean it wouldn’t let me tag you!

barzy taglist; @extratragic @babytkachuks @heybarzy @teenagekook @stfukie @smit41 @kiedhara @sidscrosbyy @golfergirl810 @baby-cat-nol-pat @c-hartsy @storiesbymads @aasimarr @bucky-ish

and the himbos, as always; @barzysthighs @damndunner @anxietyandtacos @dmonchld @sortagaysortahigh @bricksatlandyswindow

#mathew barzal #mat barzal #mathew x reader #mathew barzal imagine #barzy #new york islanders #islanders #isles #carter hart #carter hart x reader #mathew barzal x reader #carter x reader #philadelphia flyers #flyers #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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un-beel-ievable · 4 years ago

Text

Obey Me! Headcanons - The Demon Brothers react to a MC who owns a golden retriever 🐕

Author’s note: I'm home :3 Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost!! If you enjoy my writing, do leave me a like and/or a comment (and follow me to see similar content in the future :D)!

_____

Lucifer ☕

• When your dog first bounds over to greet Lucifer, it’s difficult to tell if the eldest born is a fan of your four-legged pal or not. The Avatar of Pride scrutinizes the ball of fluff as if he were a judge on a dog show —all the while as your dog vibrates impatiently by the front door with a tennis ball in its mouth. Perhaps it senses the need to be on its best behaviour if it’s to impress Lucifer.

• “A pet is a responsibility, not a novelty. I sincerely hope that you thought long and hard about the obligations of a pet owner before you went ahead with your decision to adopt. That being said, you appear to be doing quite well with your four-legged companion —they’re very well behaved. I have absolutely no qualms with you taking over Cerberus’s care when you return to the House of Lamentation; clearly you’d manage much more elegantly than my brothers. Perhaps Cerberus would enjoy the company of your charming pooch as well…”

• So Lucifer does like your dog. Not an entirely surprising revelation, if you’ve seen how he behaves around Cerberus in private. The strict no-nonsense archdemon turns into the softest dog owner that you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting; he’s all ear scritches and belly rubs. By the end of his visit, your dog is blissfully rolling on the carpet by Lucifer’s feet as the Avatar of Pride informs it over and over again that it is indeed “a good dog”.

• Perhaps you’ll even catch the small —but genuine— smile twitching at the corners of Lucifer’s lips as he does so.

Mammon 💳:

• In hindsight, perhaps giving Mammon a heads up about the presence of your pooch would have been a good idea.

• Despite your numerous attempts to reassure Mammon that the furry ball of enthusiasm barreling towards him is a Good Dog™, the terrified shriek that escapes the Avatar of Greed is shrill and ear-splitting enough to shatter your windows (Metaphorically speaking, of course. Rest assured, no windows were harmed in the writing of this headcanon.). When your dog leaps at him to nudge its head into his hand for scritches™ and headpats™, Mammon’s life flashes before his eyes. The only image that he can bring to mind before he passes out cold on your carpet is Cerberus’s terrifying snarl.

• When Mammon comes to, your dog is sitting on his chest —looking concerned and suitably chastised for accidentally scaring the living daylights out of the demon. (Even though Mammon refuses to come clean about how terrified he was. “The great Mammon? Afraid of a lil’ dog? W-What...What are ya talkin’ about? I wasn’t scared!”) The events that occurred over the last couple of minutes play on a loop in Mammon's mind. It finally dawns on him that your dog isn’t the ferocious beast that his imagination had conjured up, and his cheeks flush scarlet.

• Please give your demon a hug. I think he needs one. Or several.

Leviathan 🎮:

• If Leviathan had a pet ranking system, Henry 1.0 and Henry 2.0 would always claim the highest spots possible —the S-tiered, 5-star gods of the pet world. No golden retriever could ever worm its way to the top and snatch his love for them from under his feet. Sorry. But your dog is pretty cute, he’ll give you that.

• Too cute, maybe. Hey...um...you don’t love your dog more than you love him, right? What? Him, the Avatar of Envy, jealous? No! Of course not! Why would you make such an outrageous assumption? He’s not jealous —an adorable fluff ball of enthusiasm for the outdoors and joy is a way better than an icky otaku, after all. Leviathan doesn’t blame you for choosing your dog over him. Any sane individual would do the same...

• When you finally manage to reassure your demon that your dog is in no way competition for the affection that you hold for him, —he’ll always be your favourite demon, even if you have a dog. Even if you have a hundred dogs. Nothing is going to change that— he begins looking at your pooch in a different light. That’s right —as a potential cosplay partner. There’s this new anime that’s been released recently...Levi was wondering if you had heard of it? It’s titled: My Partner Is The Proud Owner Of A Golden Retriever And I’m An Otaku Who Enjoys The Simple Pleasure Of Collecting Merchandise and Cosplaying. One of the main characters happens to own a golden retriever as well, and if you’re willing to give him your blessing (the irony, I know), perhaps you’d lend him your pooch for an afternoon of cosplay and photography?

Satan 📚:

• Satan is a cultured demon who enjoys the company of four-legged companions, but he’s admittedly a fan of felines...not canines. Still, he prides himself on keeping an open mind towards new experiences, so he agrees to spend an afternoon with you and your dog (Even though he’d much rather be attending the opening day ceremony of the Devildom’s newest cat cafe. The things he does for love.).

• He performs some through research before meeting your dog for the first time; spending afternoon after afternoon in the sanctuary of his room reading about dogs and how to care for them. No number of books could prepare him for the real thing, however. When Satan first comes over to spend the afternoon in your home, he’s stiff and awkward —unsure of what to do with a dog. He ends up spending the first hour on your couch, sipping tea and spouting facts about golden retrievers.

• Show him the rope that your dog enjoys playing tug-of-war with, or the tennis ball that it insists on carrying in its jaws everywhere it goes. It takes a while for Satan to warm up to your pooch, but he’ll gradually learn to love —or at the very least, tolerate— your canine companion, even though he still firmly believes in the superiority of cats. Speaking of which, you’d accompany him on a date to that new cat cafe, right?

Asmodeus 💋:

• Oh! Your golden retriever is absolutely adorable! And gorgeous too —albeit not as beautiful as him, but that’s to be expected. There’s not a single individual in all of the three realms that could match up to his beauty. And your dog has such luscious fur too...dear Diavolo, he’d kill to have a haircare routine that’s as effective on his locks.

• Would you be willing to take a photo of him posing with your pooch? It’s for his Devilgram followers, of course —such beauty must be shared with the world, no? You’re not entirely sure if Asmo’s referring to his beauty, your dog’s beauty, or the shared, collective beauty of him and your dog. It doesn’t particularly matter. The two (three?) of you end up spending the entire afternoon orchestrating an impromptu photoshoot, and then spending the evening editing the photographs from said shoot for Devilgram.

• Generally gets along with your four-legged companion like a house on fire. There’s just one, itsy-bitsy issue.

• Your dog sheds. A ton. No matter how often you brush its fur, or how many boundaries you set about it not being allowed on the furniture, it seems determined to shed every carpet, sofa and bed that you own. Asmo never stops whining about the copious amounts of fur that now decorate every article of clothing he owns, but at least your dog seems happy to be able to leave its mark —on Asmo’s ensembles, of course, but also his heart.

Beelzebub 🍔:

• Corporate has asked you to find the difference between this picture and this picture—

• Asmo gets along well with your dog. Beel gets along with your dog even better. As one of the few only brothers who’s willing to spend any amount of time with Cerberus (granted, most of the time he’s only doing so because he’s been promised free food), Beel has grown into quite the dog lover. Your dog seems thrilled to be in the company of someone who appears to wholeheartedly enjoy its company —your dog is thrilled by the company of anyone who’s willing to give it their time of day, but still— and Beelzebub is thrilled to be in the company of a four-legged companion who appears to wholeheartedly enjoy his company. Beel is happy to spend whole afternoons playing with your dog...interspaced with the occasional snack break, of course.

• Speaking of which, Beel very much struggles with not giving into your golden retriever’s extremely convincing puppy dog eyes. Objectively, he knows that giving your dog human (or demon) food is a terrible idea —the last thing he wants is to be the reason that your dog has to take a trip to the vet. But your dog is so cute! And it’s looking at his food with such an intense longing in its eyes...Beel can relate to that. Surely a little nibble wouldn’t hurt…

• When you find yourself having to tell Beel off, suddenly you find yourself at the receiving end of 2 sets of puppy dog eyes; both Beel and your pupper are very sorry. They swear it’ll never happen again! Please don’t be upset…

• How are you supposed to stay mad at them?

Belphegor 🛏:

• ...listen.

• It’s not that he hates dogs. Honestly! He likes dogs as much as the next demon! But they can be loud and yappy and so incredibly energetic, and your golden retriever is more hyper than most. It always wants to go on walks, or play fetch, or make him throw its favourite tennis ball over and over again but refuse to hand it over so he has to engage in a slobbery game of tug-of-war to steal the ball from it —it’s just too much for the Avatar of Sloth. Just watching your dog zip across the room in a display of its endless amounts of energy is enough to tire Belphie out...is playtime over yet? He just wants to take a nap.

• Makes multiple attempts to talk you into allowing Beel to look after your dog. Just for an afternoon! His twin certainly has the energy to keep your hyperactive pup entertained for the whole day, and since you can be assured that your dog is well taken care of, perhaps the two of you could finally stay inside for once and take a nice, long nap. It’s been too long since he’s gotten to hold you in his arms…

• By the time Beel returns your dog to you, it’s all tuckered out from its day of adventures. As you’re thanking Beel for looking after your dog for the day, you catch him chuckling softly at something over your shoulder —Belphie and your furry friend, dozing off together on the couch. They appear to finally be getting along.

BONUS: I'm still not terribly comfortable with adding the (former) undatables to my writing repertoire, but my partner happens to be very fond of the demon butler...and I happen to be very fond of them. So just this once, just to see how it goes...

Barbatos 🍵:

• Oh? So this is the sweet bundle of fur that he’s heard so much about. It’s a pleasure to meet them at long last. Barbatos has always been fond of dogs, and your dog is quite an endearing creature to say the least...it actually reminds Barbatos of Cerberus when he was a puppy. How time flies.

• Treats your dog as if it were an esteemed guest of the castle. As long as Barbatos is around, you needn’t lift a finger when it comes to the care of your beloved pet. Keeping your dog fed and watered? Barbatos has it covered; the butler seems to have an in built in timer when it comes to feeding your dog —Barbatos serves its meals at exactly 6 in the morning and 6 in the evening. Not a minute early, not a minute late. When taking your dog out on walks, he carries a spare bottle of water for the sole purpose of offering it to your dog if it gets thirsty. Speaking of walks...Barbatos is more than happy to escort your pooch on walks in the event that you’re unavailable to do so yourself. Barbatos generally allows your golden to lead the way on their excursions, and is content with following along behind it to keep it out of trouble for however long it wishes to remain outdoors. If it were to tire itself out, Barbatos takes your dog into his arms and carries it the rest of the way home.

• Your pooch becomes very spoiled very quickly. It’s unclear if you’ve gained a butler...or if your dog has.

#obey me shall we date #obey me game #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date headcanons #headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos

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starlightsearches · 3 years ago

Note

Can we get 3 with hux from the flower AU prompts?

Hello friend! Thanks for the prompt, I hope you like it!! 🌹🌸💐🌼🌺🌷🌻

Requests are open ✨

Florist! Armitage Hux x Model! Reader (f)

Warnings: Not really, a little yearning, some slutty narration, it's kind of silly and maybe ooc, but I think that's it.

I've been feeling pretty shitty about myself and my writing over the past few days, and I figured the best way to break myself out of that funk was to write something, even if it was stupid. Sometimes when your brain is telling you that you can't do something, you gotta do it anyway. Let me know what you think, besties!

3. Flowers are often used for photo shoots and Person A gets hired to arrange the flowers for one, but they can’t help getting nervous around the model, Person B from the Flower Shop AU Prompts

Armitage is out of his element.

He's plenty comfortable working with his assistant in the back of the shop, or helping customers as they dither over the size of the arrangements and the available flowers at the counter. But this is madness.

The backstage of the set is absolutely teeming with people, and every single one of them runs past without a glance in his direction, shouting into headsets or flipping through stacks of pages attached to clipboards.

He ventures further, past a few darkened hallways until he finds an occupied room. There's a vanity mirror against the far wall, and a woman sitting in front of it, resting her head on one hand, the other holding a book.

"Excuse me," Armitage knocks gently against the door frame before stepping inside.

You set the book down, greeting him with a smile.

"Hello, are you here for makeup?"

For a moment, Armitage is speechless.

He hadn't noticed your strange apparel when he first caught sight of you, but now he can't seem to look away from the dress you're wearing, a less-than-faithful recreation recreation of a Victorian gown that hangs low on your shoulders and tight around breasts, leaving very little to the imagination.

Is he hallucinating? He's never believed in ghosts before but you do seem like a rather lovely, and strangely familiar, apparition.

Your brows furrow in confusion before you glance down at yourself, eyes going wide like you've forgotten what you were wearing.

"Oh," you exclaim, throwing your head back with a laugh, "it's a period piece were doing today."

"I'm sorry?"

"You laugh again, finding his idiocy endearing instead of annoying, "you're not the makeup artist, are you?"

"The florist."

"I see. We're doing a shoot today, a romance novel cover. Do you read romance novels?"

So that's where he recognized you from. He's seen your face before, many times over. How to Wed a Rascal, Devil's Daughter, Three's a Crowd, and his favorite: Kingdom of Thirst.

He's spent too much of his time—bleary eyed, reading into the late hours of the night—imagining your face, your eyes, the sound of your moans as he devoured book after book, story after story.

But he's not about to tell you that.

"Uh, no, not really," he lies, and you shrug off the answer, turning the seat so that you can face him.

"I've only read a few, and they're alright. The jobs pay well, at least, and they're more fun than most shoots."

He nods, leaning against the door frame in an attempt to appear casual, hoping you'll say more. He likes hearing you talk.

You don't look like yourself in pictures. It's not just the makeup and the editing, although he's sure that has something to do with it. You're much more earnest in person, and surprisingly easy to be around. It's magnetic, your personality, to the point he can’t take his eyes off you. It must be what makes you so great at your job.

"You were looking for a place to put your flowers, right? I can help with that," you say, standing from the chair and moving into the hallway, calling into the empty space, "Hey Stacy!"

The sound of harried footsteps echoes down the corridor, and soon you're greeted by a serious looking woman, dressed in all black with her hair swept up into a ponytail.

"What do you need, babes?" she asks without looking up from her cell phone, "Jack said he'd be here half an hour ago but traffic's got him running late, of course. Shouldn't matter since we're ahead of schedule so far and going for a pretty minimal look this time but I told him to haul ass anyways, traffic laws be damned. Who is this?"

Every word pours out of her mouth without a breath in between, and it's not until she looks up, meeting his eyes that he realizes she's talking about him.

"This is . . ." you turn to look at him expectantly, raising your brows.

"Armitage," he provides, and you nod.

"Right, Armitage," you smile, turning back to Stacy, "and he's got the flower delivery for the shoot today waiting in his car."

Stacy nods, mumbling into her headset. "That's great. I'll have Phil unload them."

Armitage nods, wondering if he should offer to stay and arrange them. It's not something he'd typically do . . . but he's not exactly in a hurry to leave.

Another set of footsteps meets the three of you from the end of the hallway, this time provided by another harried-looking woman, almost in a sprint.

"Bad news, Stacy," she pants when she arrives, out of breath, "Ronan's called in sick. He's got food poisoning."

Stacy groans, and you roll your eyes. "Typical. Did you call somebody else?"

"They're all busy: Theo and Jacob are out of town shooting swim, and Will's best man at a wedding."

"We'll have to call off the shoot, then, won't we?"

You shake your head, defeated. Armitage can't help but feel for you; it's obvious how much work goes into these productions, so much time wasted. Not to mention the six dozen flowers currently dying in the back of his van.

"Not so fast," Stacy holds her hand up, silencing the group. Her eyes land on him, and she chews on the inside of her cheek, thinking.

"It's Armitage, right?" she asks, tapping her finger against her lips, "have you ever . . . modeled before?"

He feels his face grow hot, heart racing, "What? No. Absolutely not."

The other woman catches on, sizing him up herself. "Wait a second, you're right Stacy. He's totally got the look. Those god damn cheekbones could slice through steel. He’s about the same size as Will, too, so costuming wouldn't be a problem. How tall are you? Six foot? Six foot two?"

"No," he steps back, "I won't do it."

You put your hand on his shoulder, begging him with your eyes.

"Please, Armitage. It would really help."

He twists his face into a frown, already feeling his resolve crumbling under your eager gaze.

"Well . . . alright."

The three of you erupt in to cheers. He's absolutely going to regret this.

An hour later—hair done, costumed, and feeling ridiculous—Armitage walks out onto the set.

God, no.

It's a surprisingly faithful recreation—he assumes—sumptuously decorated and absolutely bursting with flowers. That's not the problem.

It's a bedroom, most of the space taken up by a large, dark four-poster, rose petals strewn across its surface. He knows what that means.

Bile rises in his throat, a wave of nausea rolling his stomach. He couldn't do this. There was a reason he read so many romance novels: he liked to imagine he could be someone different, someone charming, passionate, wicked.

Being that person is not in his nature.

Vivian, the costumer, approaches him from behind, startling him.

"You ready?" she asks, gesturing him towards the stage, but he hesitates.

"There's no need to be nervous, hon. Your partner for today? She's a god damn angel, the best of the best. You'll be in good hands . . . or I guess she'll be in your hands."

She laughs at her own joke and pats him gently, wandering away.

He's going to throw up. Or pass out. Or drop dead. He can't handle this.

Then he sees you, gliding in through the doorway. You're sparkling with your makeup and hair done to perfection, your eyes warm and bright, and you're smiling at him. Just for him.

Somebody ushers him towards the set, and you join him, arranging yourself on the bed.

"Nervous?" you ask him, laying down on your elbows, a little too at ease. He doesn't have to answer, he knows you can see it on his face.

You hold out your hand to him, and he takes it, adjusting to the feel of your skin against his. "You don't need to be, it's easy."

You pull without warning, and he falls forward, knees hitting the mattress. His other hand land besides your head, close enough to your face that he could reach out and stroke it, if he wanted to.

"Ready up there?" the photographer yells from across the room, and you give him the thumbs up before slipping in to your proper pose. You place his hand at your waist, tilting up his chin.

"Now furrow your brow a little," you whisper, "and part your lips."

He does as he's told, and soon enough the camera flash sparks in his periphery.

It's not as horrible as he thought it would be, although you are doing most of the work. You shift periodically, sometimes staring deep into his eyes, or looking down demurely with your hand just barely grazing your forehead.

"Alright, that's great, that's perfect," the photographer monologues, never taking his eye from the viewfinder, "why don't we get a couple with your lips at her neck?'

He trembles, his breathing shallow, but you look up at him with the slightest nod, arching your back just a little farther, leaving your skin exposed and inviting.

He bends closer, examining the graceful lines of your body. If this were real, where would he kiss you? If he had you to himself—without all these people watching—in his own bed, no pretense, no costumes . . .

He brushes his lips tenderly against the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and he swears that he can hear you sigh in response, your spine curving against his fingers, your chest pressed tighter against his own.

"That's perfect," the photographer shouts, but Armitage isn't listening, entirely preoccupied with the feeling of your pulse against his mouth, his lips traveling up over your jaw, stopping just below your ear.

You turn to face him, slowly, until nose brushes his, staring into his eyes. If he tilted his chin just half an inch, he'd be kissing you.

"That's great, everybody! I think we're done for today."

The set erupts with applause at the photographer's words, but you still don't pull away from him, smiling gently, whispering against his lips.

"Like I said, you're a natural."

His face grows flush, and he shifts back onto his feet, clearing his throat with a cough.

You stand beside him, brushing your hands nervously over the bodice of your gown.

"Thanks again for doing this, we all really appreciate it."

"Of course, it was . . . fun."

"No really, it was a huge favor. I'd like to do something for you, in return—we could get dinner, maybe? My treat."

You place your hand on his arm again, stroking your thumb down over his elbow. Despite how much he's touched you over the last hour, this contact feels different. Because you're not playing a part this time. Because it's him you're reaching for.

"We can change first, of course," you say, the words rushed as you read his dewy-eyed imaginings for hesitation.

He smiles, placing his hand over yours in reassurance, "I'd like that."

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duskholland · 4 years ago

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One Million | Tom Holland Smut

summary ↠ you’re not one to shy away from competition, so when your co-star Tom approaches you with an opportunity to secure the ultimate bragging rights, you aren’t afraid to play a little dirty... ↠ famous!y/n x tom.

word count ↠ 4.3k

warnings ↠ mxf protected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, swearing, fluffy feels.

a/n ↠ this took a very soft turn, but I’m not mad about it tbh. it’s definitely inspired by that thirst trap photo that Tom posted the other day. does that man ever chill??? for frame of reference, Tom currently has 35.4 million followers on Instagram, which is...insane lmao. I guess this is kind of similar to my last Tom fic, but I’m really digging famous!y/n, so I wrote it anyway and I’m really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoyyyy :)

18+ !!!! this contains NSFW material, so do not read if you are a minor.

“Y’know, Y/N, I think my fans love me more than yours love you.”

Your eyes widen as you take in the bold statement. With a grin rising on your face, you glance up and across the sofa, your gaze drawn immediately to Tom. Your co-star has a cocky smirk fixed to his lips, and he raises an eyebrow defiantly as he meets your eyes.

“As if,” you scoff. You sit up straighter and stretch out your back, glaring slightly at him. “My fans love me. That’s why I’ve got more followers than you on Instagram.”

“Low blow.” Tom isn’t looking so cocky now, as he draws his arms across his chest and pouts at you. You try not to stare at the way his tight black t-shirt clings to the bulge of his arms, but it’s quite difficult: Tom is incredibly attractive. “Plus, that’s barely even true. What are you at? Like, 37 million?”

You delight as you tilt your phone screen towards him, his brown eyes widening in shock as you exclaim, triumphantly, “40!”

Never one to accept defeat so easily, Tom reaches up and wraps his hand around your wrist, his touch keeping your phone in place as he brings his index finger up and begins to scroll through your feed, greedy eyes skimming over the numbers. You stay still, trying not to think about how nice it feels to have him gripping at your skin so tightly.

“Well, I get more likes than you,” he finally resolves, his words significantly weaker than they’d been previously. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he shrugs. “I do!”

“No, you don’t.” Disliking the way he seems cocky now, you shuffle up the sofa. The cushions are firm and slightly uncomfortable, but that’s what you get when you’re crammed inside a trailer on a film set. You’re just glad Tom had suggested you spend your lunch break together in his trailer rather than yours -- his, at least, has a working lock on the door and a functioning mini-fridge. “Give me that.”

He passes you his phone, and you fall to a stop when you’re sitting right beside him, your thighs now pressing together. Your teeth catch at your lower lip as you begin to scroll through Tom’s profile, your irritation slowly rising as you realise that he’s right: he does tend to gather more likes on his posts than you do.

“Shit,” you mutter defeatedly. You pass him back his phone and lean back, stretching your arms above your head as you groan softly. You can feel him, looking at you with those warm, brown eyes, his stare taking in the curves of your chest and the way you know your nipples strain against the fabric of your white t-shirt, so you make a poised effort to jut your front out just a little further than is truly necessary. When you bring your arms back down to your sides, his eyes find yours, and the way his pupils are blown a little wider brings a smirk to your face. You’d be lying if you said you viewed Tom only as a co-star, or even as just a friend: really, there’s been this palpable, will-they-won’t-they air surrounding the two of you ever since that first day on set. The timing’s never quite been right, but as your gaze shifts between his handsome, seductive grin and his phone, you have a feeling that things may change sooner than you’d imagined.

“How about we settle this, once and for all,” Tom suggests, his words slow as he thinks. His eyebrows pull together as he picks his phone up and presses the small plus button at the bottom of the app, creating a new post. “We have a little competition, right here, right now. Whoever wins gets supreme bragging rights.”

“And what exactly do you have in mind?”

Tom’s tongue slips across his lower lip, wettening it torturously slowly and his firm gaze settles on your mouth for a quick moment, his lips pulling into a slow smirk as he takes in the way you fluster beneath his gaze. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“We both post something, together, at the same time. Whoever gets to a million likes first, wins,” he explains.

“And I can post anything?”

“Anything you’d like, love.”

Your eyes narrow as the cogs begin the twirl in your mind. “And when I win..?”

“If you win, darling, I’ll let you rub it in my face as much as you’d like.”

You hum slowly, letting one of your hands fall to Tom’s covered thigh. You feel his muscles flex beneath your touch, and it makes your thoughts darken. “Let’s raise the stakes,” you suggest, “If you really believe in your popularity, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

A semblance of hesitation twitches out across his face, but Tom nods nonetheless. “What do you want?”

You let your hand go for a little wander, the tips of your fingers circling up to his knee. You tap a small rhythm over his jeans as you string your words together, doing your best to sound as innocent as possible as you say, “Winner takes all.”

“Winner...takes all?”

“If you win, I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”

Tom’s quiet for a moment, and the silence that envelopes you is charged with the past few weeks of lingering touches, suggestive stares, and building sexual tension. When you drag your eyes from Tom’s knee to his face, you find his cheeks tinted a light rosy red and his forehead pulled tight. His eyes narrow as he looks at you, but then one of his arms moves and wraps around your back, and he’s bringing you in closer. You lean into the touch and find yourself swinging a leg over his thighs, your body shifting in closer as you straddle him. He’s hot and firm beneath you, and you find yourself sinking into his thighs easily.

“And if you win?” Tom continues, both of his hands now resting on the curve of your waist. His fingers are light, teasing, and you try not to think about them as he drags his touch down to toy with the hem of your shirt.

You let your lips brush up against the shell of his ear as you move closer, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. His cologne is strong and distracting and a sense of lust pushes aside all other logical emotions. “If I win,” you say, whispering into his ear, “I get to do whatever I want to you.” You brush your mouth, feather-light, across the column of his neck, barely leaving a kiss to his skin.

When you move back, Tom’s face is flushed significantly darker. He tilts his head to the side, his loose curls flopping over his forehead, and he looks so fucking attractive that it’s hard to keep your mind focused when all you can think about is how lovely his head would look, buried between your thighs, or how nice it would sound to hear his deep grunts as he fucks you.

“You’re on.”

You sit back in his lap as you force your attention back to your phone, ignoring the way your body is slowly rising in temperature. You know exactly what you need to post in order to win, and luckily, you already have the shots edited and saved as a draft; you’d been prepared to post them last night but something had told you to hold back, and now that’s going to play to your advantage.

“I’m gonna win,” you tell him confidently. “There’s no way you’ll be able to beat me. May as well just throw in the towel now, Holland.”

Tom just hums in response, his eyes fixed firmly to his screen. “We’ll see about that,” he counters. “Are you ready?”

“Not gonna let me see?” You ask, taking stock of the way he’s purposefully angling his phone so you can’t get a sneaky peek.

“Nope.” His tone is infuriating and the way his eyes twinkle mischievously makes you doubt, for the first time, your ability to win this bet. “Don’t want you getting any big ideas and beating me.”

“Fine,” you grumble. You move your thumb to hover over the post button, eyeing him sceptically. “3.”

“2.”

“1.”

In sync, you press post, watching as Tom does the same. You watch as it takes a moment to load, and then it pops up into the top of your feed. You grin as you refresh, and you see Tom’s post slip up. You can’t help but sigh wistfully as your eyes take in his photo.

It’s so obviously a thirst trap, but fucking hell, you don’t care. He looks glorious. You forget for a moment that you’re straddling the man as you pinch your fingers together and zoom in on the photo, your eager eyes taking in the lines of Tom's sweaty, post-workout body. He’s posing in a mirror, the lighting all dark and mysterious, but the lines of his hard, exercised abs are clear, and his face looks so goddamn sexy pulled into an intense smirk that it makes your panties wet.

“Holy shit,” Tom says. You shake yourself out of your blissed-out thoughts and look up to him, finding him staring at his phone, looking at your post. Your lips quirk into a small smirk as you watch him swallow deeply, his lower lip pulling into his mouth as his eyes examine your photo unabashedly. “When did you become a Calvin Klein model?”

You shrug lightly. “Had a shoot a few weeks back,” you say. “I think the photos turned out quite well, don’t you?”

You know the photos are bomb. The air on set had been electric, the photographer had been a creative visionary, and you’d felt unbelievably alive the entire time you’d been posing. The branded underwear and bralette clung to your body in just the right way, and for the first time in a long time, you'd felt radiant. The photos capture that completely, and you know that you've probably played dirty - because who can resist a thirst trap? - but you can't bring yourself to feel guilty because Tom's done the same thing.

He doesn’t give you an answer verbally. Rather, Tom takes one final look at the screen, curses beneath his breath, then tosses his phone aside and pulls you closer. Your centre settles over his crotch and you find yourself raising an eyebrow as you feel his hard cock straining up against his jeans. His hand finds your face, fingers grasping at your chin, and you let him tilt your head towards him, eyes dark and heady. His mouth is close now, his breath warm and smelling of peppermint and lavender, and the temptation to dive right into kissing him is almost overwhelming, but instead, you decide to tease him a little bit.

With a slight smirk on your face, you move in, allowing yourself to grind against his covered crotch as you let your lips kiss at the corner of his mouth. Tom groans softly, the noise rattling straight through your chest and sending excitement rushing between your legs, but you reach up and curl your fingers through his hair, and delight as you continue to kiss around his face, your pecks light, always avoiding where you know he aches to feel you. He lasts a few minutes, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows you to tease him, but as you drop your mouth to his jaw and start to nibble at the sensitive skin there, Tom pushes you away.

“Such a fucking tease, love,” he murmurs, voice dark. One of his hands slips up beneath your t-shirt, skating over the curve of your back. “No bra?”

You give him a slight shrug. “No need,” you say. “You know, you’ve probably just made a million people horny, just from that one picture.” You pause as Tom’s hand skims around to the front of your body, gently, delicately shifting up to cup one of your boobs. A soft hiss passes through your lips as he drags his thumb across your nipple, his touch firm. “You’re quite the specimen, Holland.”

“Could say the same about you, love,” he returns, bringing his second hand beneath your top. He explores your front, and your body responds naturally as you push nearer to him, craving more of his touch. “Better check the likes.”

“Don’t move,” you ask him, ignoring the way his smirk drips with confidence at the words as he continues to play with your breasts. You reach down and pluck up your phone, opening up Instagram and moving to your profile. A loose chuckle falls past your lips. “I’m at 1.2 million,” you brag.

Tom growls. “What about mine?”

Your smirk is quickly wiped from your face as you find your way to Tom’s profile. “It also has 1.2 million.” You keep refreshing each post, but the numbers are moving too quickly for an outright winner to emerge. “I think we’ve tied,” you’re forced to admit.

Tom’s mouth finds your neck, and he delights in dragging his lips up and over your sensitive skin, kissing softly, deeply, tenderly, letting his teeth occasionally drag over you as you whimper. He makes his way up to your ear, his tongue swirling around your ear lobe, and you have to stifle a moan as he whispers, “guess that means we’re both winners,” in that delicious, husky voice. “C’mere.”

He finally catches your lips in his, his mouth moving fiercely against yours as you return your fingers to his hair. He groans as you pull on his strands, bringing him nearer, kissing him back just as hungrily. Your mind lingers on that image he’d posted, of himself all hot and defined and sweaty, and it brings the heat between your legs to the forefront of your mind as you start to imagine what it’ll be like to see the thing in real life.

His kisses are needy and messy - a collision of teeth and tongue, but you part your lips and you let him push his tongue into your mouth, his hands clinging to your front. As his thumbs skim around your nipples, you grind down against him, every part of you on fire as you let Tom consume you.

“Is the door locked?” You ask between hot kisses.

“Fuck,” he says as he breaks away, angling his head back to look at the rickety trailer door. “No.”

With a reluctant sigh, you catch his lips in a long, hard kiss, and then break away. You’re a little unsteady on your feet as you stagger up, your chest feeling a chill as Tom’s large hands fall away from your skin. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you quickly go to the door and turn the lock, breathing out a sigh of relief as you realise that’s it: no more distractions, only Tom, and you, and hopefully, a fuck so good it rocks your world.

When you turn around, you see that Tom’s moved. He’s ditched the squeaky old sofa in exchange for the small double bed that’s hidden in the corner of the trailer, and he’s laying across it, waggling his eyebrows seductively. You giggle as you approach him, your eyes skating over his bare chest, and you appreciate that he’s taken the time to pull off his top and jeans, and you scramble to do the same.

“If it’s a tie,” Tom mumbles, as he wraps you in his arms and presses you down into the mattress. His arms go either side of your head, his eyes skating across your naked chest. “I think it’s only fair we each get something that we want.”

You let your hand wander down his body, your fingers curving over his abs before grasping at his length over his boxers. The groan that rumbles up his throat makes you catch your lower lip between your teeth. “Seems fair,” you concede, a smirk lilting at your lips as he grinds down against your hand, pushing his aching member further into your touch.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks you.

You kiss him a few times as you ponder his question. There are about a thousand things you’d like Tom to do to you.

“Might be nice if you ate me out,” you say finally. The man raises a ruffled eyebrow as he slides down your body, grinning. His fingers push into the soft flesh of your inner thighs as he spreads them apart, face level with your hot core. A shy smile on his face, he maintains eye contact with you as he presses a gentle, dry kiss to your covered clit. “Fuck, Tom.”

He’s a tease. For a while, he seems to enjoy kissing everywhere but your centre, always lingering just over or beside your silk panties. By the time he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband and tugs them down your legs, you’re throbbing and wet, and you’re so sensitive that you’re thrusting down to meet him the second you feel his tongue dragging through your slit.

“Taste so good,” he coos, voice muffled by your heat. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you in place as the wide, flat expanse of his tongue leaves bold stripes up your centre, exploring and poking at your slick folds. He’s attentive — keeps an eye on you and notes the way you respond as he does certain things, and within no time at all, he’s got you moaning and squirming. The sensation of his tongue as it firms and slips into your aching hole, or as it sucks and flicks around your clit is sensational, and the fact that it’s Tom makes it a thousand times better.

“Shit, Tom, you- fuck, you feel so good.” Your hands twist around his curls, finding relief as you tug at his strands whenever his tongue caresses you particularly strongly. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

Your words seem to spur him on, and as you make brief eye contact with him and see your juices soaking his chin, you realise that’s exactly what he wants. Tom slips two fingers into your flushed entrance and coaxes up against your back wall, fucking you roughly as his tongue continues to twist around your clit.

“Cum for me, love,” he urges, speaking against your slit. “Want to watch you fall apart for me, gorgeous girl.”

You’re seeing stars before you know it, your legs tensing and your mouth falling open as you cry out, Tom’s fingers and tongue working you through it. He makes out with your heat like there’s no tomorrow, the obscene sounds mixing with the way his fingers twist and thrust, and it’s got to be one of the best orgasms of your life because you’re still shaking from the aftershocks even as he’s pulled his fingers from your cunt and pushed them into his mouth. His eye contact is unwavering as he licks his fingers clean, a dirty twinkle dancing in his eye.

“Fuck,” is all you can muster, your chest still heaving. Tom falls to rest beside you, and you’re quick to turn and move up to straddle him, enjoying the view of his flushed body as you grind your soaked centre over his boxers. “I guess it’s time that I return the favour, Tom. What would you like me to do?”

You run your fingers over the grooves of Tom’s muscular abdomen, admiring the lines of his abs as his hands wander your sides, drawing up to find your boobs again. You raise an eyebrow and draw a lovely, rattling chuckle from his mouth.

“Sorry, love, can't help myself.” He rolls your nipples between his fingers teasingly, smirking as you whimper. “There are so many things I’d like you to do…” One hand moves and he cups the back of your head to pull you in. Your lips connect in a deep kiss and you shift against him, his muffled moan sinking into your mouth as he bucks up against you. “I think I’d like you to ride me.”

“You think?”

Tom moves his hands to the curve of your bare ass and he squeezes softly over your skin, nudging the line of his strong cock further into your slit. “Y/N,” he says, eyes flooding with heat as you teasingly rock down against him, “I need to feel you. Been waiting- fuck, been thinking about you on top of me for months.”

You reach down and pull his boxers down his legs, returning to settle in his lap with a smirk on your face. “Who am I to deny that?” You ask, voice sultry. “Condom?”

Tom reaches out and rummages through a nearby drawer, procuring a silver packet with a grin.

“You fuck a lot of people in this bed, Tom?”

He splutters, and you feel bad for a moment, until he says boldly, “Not been with anyone since I met you.”

You raise an eyebrow, ignoring the way it makes your heart beat a little faster in your chest to hear those words. “Me neither,” you admit. Then you take the condom wrapper from his hand and rip it open, and the mood shifts as you wrap your hand around his length and give him a few pumps, Tom groaning deliciously in response. Once he’s full and hard, you pinch the tip of the condom and roll it down his length, settling yourself over him a moment later. You grind down for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of his rock hard tip rubbing over your clit.

“Please, love.”

You see the desperation on Tom’s face and quell it with a long kiss. Your hand guides his length between your legs and you sit back on him slowly, moaning into his mouth as he fills you up completely. Your lips separate, and for an aching moment, your foreheads are pressed together, and there’s an air of unspoken silence hanging between you as you get a little lost in his deep brown eyes. You swallow deeply, the emotions stirring in your heart making you nervous, so you quickly kiss him again, and then his hands are on your waist and he’s guiding you along.

It’s electric. As your bodies connect and you gradually begin to move faster together, you find yourself getting lost in it. You drag your lips over Tom’s necks and collarbones, kissing him and sucking lightly, and enjoying the quiet whimpers that fall from his pink lips. His hands explore you, grabbing at your ass, or your boobs, before one of them settles permanently between your legs and toys with your clit. His fingers work magic as his hips jut up to meet yours, the combination of your movements allowing his cock to hit nice and deep inside you.

You wonder why it’s taken you so long to do this with him. Tom’s eyes watch you intently, notes of adoration mixing with his obvious arousal. At some point, his free hand stretches out and tangles with yours, and then your intertwined fingers fall to the mattress and you find his lips with yours as you begin to build towards your high. His grip on your hand keeps you anchored, even as you begin to get lost in the hazy pleasure of it all, his body twitching slightly as your walls start to squeeze him.

“G’nna cum,” you manage, voice thick. Your clit pulses beneath his fingers. “Fuck, Tom, you feel so good in me. Love your cock.”

He kisses you harshly, but it fades to a softer kiss as you hold your mouth against him. “Let go, baby,” he urges, “‘m close too. Want to feel you, darling.”

It’s the way he grinds down to meet your bounce as his fingers rub your slick clit that has your breath hitching and your orgasm rippling across you. You don’t even try to stay quiet as you rock against him, his length brushing over your walls perfectly, and his face screws into a picture of orgasmic bliss as he cums with a splutter, his grip on your hand tightening as a string of curses fall past his lips.

A deep breath escapes you when you collapse beside Tom, your body blissed out and tingling warmly. A smile springs across your face as he brings your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles softly. It’s so gentle and loving that you find yourself looking at Tom a little differently, his lips now appearing alluring and inviting, and the shaggy curls resting across his forehead endearing. You inch closer to him subconsciously, and one of his arms wraps around your shoulders to keep you against him.

“So,” he says, voice a little uncertain, lacking that normal charismatic charm. “That was…”

“Life-changing,” you suggest, punctuating it with a light laugh.

Tom nods, large hand shifting over your bare back. “You could say that.” His eyes focus on your lips for a moment, before he moves in and lets his mouth press across your forehead. “Would you want to… go on a date with me, sometime?”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you nod bashfully, finally allowing yourself to feel the butterflies that twinkle in your heart every time you see him.

“I’d really like that,” you admit. You press a kiss to the top of his shoulder before snuggling down, wrapping your arms around his warm chest as he holds you near. “I’d say this was a pretty good outcome to our bet, wouldn’t you?”

Tom chuckles. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d say we’re both winners.”

He kisses your temple, lips soft, and you know that he’s right: you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, to be held in his arms like this, to have felt him so intimately, to have his heart held in your hands, even if you don’t quite know it yet.

“Definitely,” you agree. “I couldn’t think of a better prize.”

And he kisses you then, mouth meeting yours in a slow burn of new love, and you know that he agrees with you wholeheartedly.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland oneshot #i...would like to be tom’s co star thanks #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #famous!reader #costar!reader #smut

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corpsentry · 4 years ago

Text

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

#my stuff

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