#i was working on a little outfit lineup for her but i thought this one looked nice on its own :) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pangtasias-atelier · 7 months ago

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Fortuna's New Big Star

Kinda thought I already posted this oopsie, but enjoy this longer story commissioned by @maletfgrowthblog involving Ki-ria and male tf along with some macro and musclechub. Cause I definitely enjoyed practicing teehee. And messing with the male cast cause tms is a guilty pleasure of mine.

The crowded, busy streets of Shibuya a flurry of activity every waking hour of the day, and even well into the night, the closed off area is no shabby exception. A concert scheduled months in advance —the preannouncement done before summer had even begun— the immediately sold out concert had promptly become the summer event of the year in the entirety of Japan. And even beyond, already booked and busy hotels swamped with orders from foreigners lucky enough in scoring tickets to Fortuna Entertainment’s summer bash. Though the concert had been initially planned in drawing out the company’s enemies, remnants of mirages once again appearing despite Medeus’ defeat. So many people around, a concert consisting of their own in-house talent —each and every one of them more than capable enough mirage masters— had been the perfect excuse to have all hands on deck, the public all too happy to see Fortuna’s contracted performers all together for the first time with the company’s true reasons unknown to them.

The entire lineup drip fed to the adoring and crazed fandom over multiple weeks, the opening/intermissionary act of Itsuki had come as no surprise to anyone, the still blooming artist a perfect way to open the show and fill in between artists without supposedly wasting Fortuna Entertainment's heavy hitters in a lineup of heavy hitters.

Which had caused every single news outfit in Japan to cover the countrywide cheer and appraisal when Kiria had been announced as the very last artist to perform on the first day of summer.

But unlike everyone else —and unlike even her fellow performers— Kiria thinks nothing of the decision, Maiko never wrong in whatever she puts her mind to. The still bright afternoon of the day's clear, sunny sky makes for the perfect weather for the outside concert. The crowd booms as they scream and cheer for yet another of Itsuki’s intermissions. The walls to Uzume Lesson Studio shake and tremble with the crowd so threateningly close to it. And to the rest of the talent hosted inside.

“Hmmph, seems like he’s finally taking to his lessons,” Yashiro having a seat like the others, his elbow rests on the arm of the adequate enough chair. The long exhausting day of work clearly affects him, Yashiro slumped against the back of his chair with his legs spread forward, no persistent vultures for paparazzi hounding him.

Kiria waits with Yashiro. The others with them as well, Tsubasa, Touma, and Eleonora keep their focus on the large flatscreen TV that has the free live feed of the concert —courtesy of Maiko after fighting tooth and nail with the bottom feeders that are shareholders.

“I trained him well, didn’t I?” The rhetorical question hangs in the air as Kiria continues to fiddle with her makeup. As the last one —and only one to still not have gone up— she touches up the small streak of pink makeup right underneath her eye, wiping off the minimal bit of excess product. The color matches the pink collar of faux fur around her neck. In her Reincarnation outfit, the song chosen to be the first of her set by her fans in a voting poll, the outfit still looks as snug as ever on her thin, shapely body. Her corset gives her little wiggle room, the enhanced hourglass shape pushing up her barely covered up breasts. Itsuki’s song blares in the small waiting room of the studio as they talk.

I know it's tough but I'll hold on, until we meet again someday

And I promise you with all of my heart that my smile won't fade away

The water swishes in his hand as Yashiro takes a drink. He has a brow raised at Kiria.

“Is there something you have to say Yashiro? I thought you’d have turned a new leaf. Or is that princely persona you put on still nothing but that?” The edges of Kiria’s plump lips are upturned, her lips covered in a nude lip gloss to help them pop.

“I’m glad I’m not wearing that ridiculous outfit,” Yashiro fixes his tie. Wearing a plain purple suit, the outfit is what he changed into after his set, the gaudy princely attire immediately shrugged off the instant he walked back into the sanctity of the studio. “If anything, you’re the one not giving someone enough credit. Itsuki worked rather hard to get where he is,” Despite looking up at Kiria, he can’t help but glance at the screen every so often, Itsuki taking up most of the camera.

There was a new me waiting somewhere inside

Doesn't matter how much I searched, I'd never have found it looking on my own

“I’m glad we can agree on one thing then,” She gives her hair one final brush, the lengthy ponytail cascading down her back as she heads out, ready to start her part. Itsuki reaches the halfway point of his song, the end of the third verse being sung by the time she steps out.

But now, everything's clear-- we just accept each other, nothing held back

Now that we know who we are, we can all see how much we've grown

The rest of the studio is empty, besides a few security guards; she easily walks out onto the streets of Shibuya. A barricade is already formed. The crowd that spots her behind the wall of tall, brawny security scream their heads off, each and every one of them that see her calling for her as they take photos. But Kiria keeps on track. She takes her time walking to the stage, Itsuki still singing the last parts of his song.

And to Itsuki’s credit the crowd loves him, the momentary shock in seeing Kiria washed away as they resume their shouts and cheers as he wraps up his set. “Ladies and gentlemen, Kiria Kurono!” He yells into the mic with all the energy he can muster in his usual shy, average body. He gestures to his right, walking off to the opposite end of the stage.

And as soon as Kiria reaches the stage —Kiria herself dead silent amidst the thunderous crowd— she refuses to say a word; her head facing the ground, the thunderous screams only become more booming as they expectantly wait, the uproarious crowd soon chanting her name. And their chanting soon devolves into a cacophony of screams and applause upon hearing the very first note from the guitar, Kiria beginning to sing.

But good things are unable to last unfortunately, the entire area dimming and graying as if all color were slowly being drained from the world, the once bright, big blue sky turning a fowl shade of gray as purple specters materialize. They start at the very tail ends of the crowd, only a single one arriving before numerous more of its comrades begin to appear along with it; putrid chains coil down from them, the blotchy essence of the enemy mirages channeled along with the metal as they descend onto the crowd. Which begins to slowly die down, elated cheering soon turning into mild screams of panic before the only sound from the sea of a crowd is a chorus of tired groans.

“Those bastards!” Touma is the first to rise up from his seat, already shifted into his Carnage form with Cain as naturally as breathing comes to him. Yashiro and Eleonora follow right behind Touma, Navarre and Virion summoned as well from the sudden onset of an Idolasphere.

“Wait! We should think at least! Oh…” Tsubasa trailing behind them, she’s the only one to notice the enemies’ crimson red cloaks, the group’s enemies the rare savage mirages —as Maiko had dubbed them the first time they were forced to narrowly escape them. But she continues on after them, transforming into her Carnage form with Caeda and riding atop her pegasus. “It’s my job to make sure nobody gets hurt,”

“Kiria. You know the plan!” Itsuki still by her side, he slashes at the abundance of ironclad knights swarming the concert. Watching over her the best that he can, Itsuki charges at them all. He stands between the spacious back of the concert stage and Kiria’s back, sword drawn as he swings at everything trying to get to the two of them.

The concert part of a coverup to draw the mirages, the scattered remnants of Medeus’ army easily fall for the bait.

Unlike the others, all of them fighting the small army of mirages, Kiria remains on stage. Transformed as well, she still continues her performance, herself the one to draw the short stick by being the one performing during the attack. But Kiria pours all her magic into her words nonetheless. She uses the months of planning to her favor, enchanting the soothing melody to lull the nearly numb crowd and beyond them as well, the honeyed lyrics swirling through Shibuya as Kiria does her best from the group’s practice and research into techniques to aid those less gifted with Performa and thus more susceptible to mirages.

The sounds of combat swish and swirl around her. But Kiria thinks nothing of it as Tharja continues to hold a protective barrier over her. The shield fizzes against the few axes and swords that strike at it with all their might, but it never once wavers, the shield withstanding all attempts to break it as Kiria remains encased in it. But the mirages soon turn their attention back away from her, their next best interest lying in the more enticing, hittable target currently fighting their leader.

And winning at that, Falchion’s piercing blade already having torn through the flesh of the enemy commander. Though Itsuki’s fatigued state —and the way he clutches his sword arm— shows that the strike was far from a free hit, the stalwart scales a difficult thing to pierce even with the divine blade. And the savage mirages loom over him, blackscale riders screeching with delight as they swirl over his head. And the ironclad knight and red barbarians for once simply wait for Itsuki to make the first move, the numerous mirages ready to strike.

A dragon beside him, the being towers over Itsuki as it roars. “This world, and everything on it, is ours...The ones who intruded were you humans!” The dragon known as Xemcel shouts, a wound already leaking with purple mist where Itsuki punctured it with Falchion. The dragon roars once more, black mist expunged from its mouth as it attacks Kiria with ferocious anger, all of its attention diverted into breaking her shield with its minions keeping Itsuki busy. The shield slowly deteriorates against the barrage. The once clear tinted shield begins to crack under the deluge of power, a faint purple hue taking hold of the barrier.

“You two get out of the way!” Yashiro plunges his sword into a red barbarian, the axe wielding enemy charging at Touma and Tsubasa’s lance using selves. The group of four take on stragglers as they attempt to regroup with Itsuki and Kiria. But the myriad of axe wielding ironclad knights and red barbarians makes the task difficult. And the airborne blackscale riders make it impossible for Tsubasa to fly ahead all on her own.

“I guess you all will finally realize how wonderful I am,” Eleonora claps her hands, her mirage appearing right before her side. “Virion, make yourself useful,” Stepping to the forefront, the group’s lone archer stands in front of her useful melee party members. She hands her bow out, the curved wooden design light in her hands.

“Of course, my fair lady,” Virion accepts the bow and launches himself into the air, bow taut and drawn. And in an instant, the dozens of enemies swiftly become only a mere handful; spectral corpses fall to the ground, littered with a flurry of arrows before disintegrating into nothingness.

Eleonora marches on. She has the other three deal with her leftovers. “See how easy it is? Now, pick up the pace,”

Most of his mirages are now nothing more than a memory with Eleonora’s backup. So Itsuki turns his attention to the enemy commander, the dragon refusing to budge from its spot despite the pools of miasma spilling forth from its body. The only being different from the rest of the common mirages, the slightly serpentine mage dragon is barely holding on, dozens of arrow wounds piercing through the scales on its back. It roars, expunging one final breath as it stares down at the ever singing Kiria, the last bit of her song for her numbed audience coming to close.

Then at least help me destroy it all---

My solitude, and all my pain

Reincarnation, Realization

Reincarnation I want to be reborn

And the barrier breaks, one crack surfacing for an instant before it shatters into countless immaterial pieces; Xemcel and the scattered remains of his mirages soon disappear along with it.

“Kiria!” Itsuki rushes over to her, kneeling beside her limp form.

“I’m,” She coughs, hacking out saliva and spit as if she were choking. “I’m fine,” Already out of her Carnage form, Kiria’s form has none of the debilitating weakness or injuries any of them would expect. She slowly picks herself off the floor, on all shaky fours.

In fact, as Itsuki examines her, he finds her figure a bit more… filled out. Even her voice sounds odd, her usual mildly deeper pitch —compared to Tsubasa and Eleonora at least— now an octave lower.

“Kiria?” Itsuki asks this time, looking down at the back of her head.

“Yeah? I said I’m fine, Itsuki,” Kiria looks at him this time. And while her usual angular face glares at him, her chin seems larger, broader, like her shoulders and the rest of her. Well, most of the rest. Itsuki turns away after catching himself staring at her breasts, well chest, her modest bust size now flattening out as her clavicles gain a bit more definition to them.

Kiria slowly loses her mildly hourglass figure achieved with her light pink corset. Both from her broadening torso and her loosening corset. The bit of musculature she has on her abdomen from trekking through numerous Idolaspheres and battling more mirages than she can keep count on follows with her during her transformation. Kiria slowly pulls down the zipper of her corset, letting out a groan upon getting a bit of relief. Her smaller chest appreciates the relief, Kiria’s flatter chest still having some definition to them as they begin to morph into the very beginning onset of pecs. The straps over Kiria’s chest begin to mildly strain. So she loosens the harness, hands reaching behind her broader, more defined back. Her arms start to look more toned; Kiria has a mild hint of musculature on her thicker arms. She even loosens the most minor of belts on her body, the small straps attached to her elbow length gloves adjusted to the loosest hole. She even grows a few inches taller, her garter belts straining against the taut fabric of her black pants before she adjusts them like everything else. Her thighs slowly broaden out as they begin to lose their once shapely figure.

“What are you embarrassed about, Itsuki? Never expected your senpai to get hit?”

“N-no. It’s just that…how do I put it” Itsuki finds it hard to keep his eyes off of Kiria. Itsuki continues to stare at Kiria, trying his best to not stare but unable to avert his eyes. He only manages to find a captivating interest in the ground once a slight but noticeable bulge appears in Kiria’s pants, the cut of pants not meant for such an extra appendage. “Well, you’re a man,”

Kiria simply laughs at him. He slugs him in the arm, much more force behind them with the added bit of muscle to Kiria’s own defined arms. “Same as the last time I checked. And I’d say the same about you if you weren’t acting so childish all of a sudden. We beat those mirages and this is how you are?” Kiria slowly stands back up, a hand on Itsuki’s shoulder for support. “Stand up,”

Itsuki graciously accepts Kiria’s hand. Where once he stood a single inch taller than Kiria, Itsuki is now the shorter of the two, a couple of inches of height separating the two of them. “You’re… you’re right, Kiria,”

“See. You’re just imagining things,” Kiria pats Itsuki’s head, his blue hair ruffled under his ever so soft, slightly larger hands. “Though you might want to get out of your Carnage form, Itsuki. The crowd is still a bit drowsy but the Idolashpere should slowly start dematerializing soon,”

“Yes. Of course,” The clumped up Performa stored inside him slowly dissipates, the aura spreading back throughout his body as he transforms back, his usual attire back on him. Afterwards, he pulls out his phone. And typing from the expertise of dealing with everyone’s spam of texts and reaction images —and from sending his very own back at them— Itsuki hastily adds the rest of the group to a new chat. “MEET ME IN FRONT OF UZUME ASAP SOMETHING HAPPENED TO KIRIA HE’S PERFECTLY FINE BUT IT’S SERIOUS!” He texts without once looking away from Kiria. “*SHES” He texts immediately after.

“Wait, something feels wrong,” Kiria feels himself. His hands roam over his body, a minor frown formed as he tsks in irritation. Kiria looks down at himself. Inspecting every inch of himself, the fabric of his clothes shift and strain with them already being a bit tight at rest. He feels up his thicker arms, grabbing the newfound heft of them. He presses a hand on his chest, fingers squeezing his trim yet defined pecs that have a bit more definition to them than Itsuki and Yashiro’s but less than Touma’s own defined musculature that comes from a mildly dedicated training routine along with the natural strength that comes from lugging around stage props. Kiria even feels his ass, the less flabby part of himself the only thing to have lost a bit of size relative to the rest of himself as they don’t strain the rest of his outfit like every other inch of himself.

“Yes! You finally realized Kiria, you-”

“Ahhhhh…” Locks of his cool dark green-blue hair sway in the freedom of the wind. Kiria runs his fingers through his extremely long, nearly knee length hair. His mess of hair looks more unkempt as before, bits and ends of hair splayed to the side in a slightly messy but still well manicured style. “I hate wearing my hair up. Don’t know how I managed to be convinced of that,”

“Ah. Well, I’ll be right back. Just stay here in case the crowd wakes up early. So just be ready to perform,” Itsuki holds his hands up at Kiria before rushing off and leaving him alone.

He finds Touma, Tsubasa, and Eleonora right where he asked them to be.

Touma is the first to speak. “You didn’t have to fix the typo, man. What happened to Kiria?” Eleonora and Tsubasa stay quiet, waiting for Itsuki to speak.

“It wasn’t a typo,” Itsuki explains the entire situation to the three of them, starting off by mentioning the strange mirage attack before divulging into Kiria’s transformation into a guy —leaving out the more saucy details left grabbed in his mind, Itsuki’s brain replaying the scene with a morbid curiosity he doesn’t quite wish to explore in such a crowded area— and finally ending the short retelling with Kiria’s obliviousness to his current state.

“Wait! So Kiria…” Tsubasa holds her hands to her chest. Tears well up in her eyes, the fat, salty drops threatening to spill at any second. “She’s a guy nowwwww,” She wails, her chance with her now feeling lost.

“Kiria may be fine. But now’s not the time, Tsubasa,” Eleonora chastises. Though she herself seems a bit downcast, the two women having their own crush on Kiria,

“Yes. She seems perfectly fine but while we still have the ability with the Idolashpere temporarily active, I know we can reverse this with your help,” Itsuki smiles ahead at the group.

Eleonora pushes back, jabbing Itsuki in the chest with her manicured finger, not a single scratch on it somehow. “Me? What, you think I know all these healing spells just because I’m a girl? How s-”

“E-Eleonora, Itsuki was looking at me…” Tsubasa meekly says, standing right beside where Eleonora once did.

“Oh…”

A hand on Tsubasa’s back, Touma stands right beside her. “C’mon Tsubasa. You got this! You always patch us back to full health. Just think of this as another little status for you to cure. No reason for you to worry!” He pushes her forward with a couple of hearty pats on her back.

“We believe in you Tsubasa. We know you can do it,” Itsuki similarly cheers her on.

“U-understood!” Tsubasa rushes over to the concert stage to reclaim her possible chance —no matter how slim and unlikely she is to act on her own feelings— with Kiria.

Kiria is still right where Itsuki left him after all this time.

And Yashiro is beside the man already. Yashiro glares at Kiria, still standing a couple of inches above him instead of the nearly half a foot difference from before the transformation of his newfound male senpai. “Hmmph. You’ve gotten taller, I see,” Yashiro plainly comments, as if commenting on the weather. The faint tinge of red on his exposed face betrays his glare. Yashiro is back to his normal appearance, Yashiro all too aware of the slowly fading essence of the Idolasphere.

“Forgive me, Kiria. But I need to cast some healing magic. Just to make sure everyone is okay,” Back in her Carnage form, Tsubasa stands almost an entire head shorter than Kiria now. She leans a bit down, hands over Kiria’s body. “Well, if she doesn’t remember anything and she’ll be back to normal, then maybe…” Tsubasa places her hands on Kiria’s chest, her fingernails giving the pecs a light squeeze. And Tsubasa feels nothing stir in her own heart. She puts all concentration into turning Kiria back into a woman.

Eleonora speaks up for Kiria, the entire groups’ senpai awkwardly chuckling. “You can’t just harass Kiria, Tsubasa! When we get back, I’m learning healing spells if you’re not going to honor our truce,” She threatens.

“Ladies, don’t fight over me,” Kiria laughs, smiling as Tsubasa and Eleonora fawn over him. “I thought I told you, I’m only into men,”

The two women go wide-eyed; both of their brains ding with enlightenment, Kiria never once showing an ounce of interest in men before his transformation.

“Tsubasa hurry up with those spells!”

“I’m trying!” Tsuabsa cries. “Nothing’s working, not even amrita,” And Tsubasa’s outfit slowly dissipates, her wedding dress for her performance appearing back on her.

Yashiro interrupts the two of them, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you two wait at Uzume while Kiria finishes the rest of his set. The crowd should be waking up soon,” Yashiro gestures with his hand, done with them and shooing them off like a pair of inconsolable children throwing a tantrum.

“Sorry,” Kiria nervously chuckles. He waves them off as Touma and Itsuki join the two men. “I’ll make sure to put on a good show at the very least,”

Touma and Itsuki say nothing at the failed fix. “Itsuki and I are going to keep watch just in case some more mirages attack,” Touma gives Kiria a cheeky grin as he takes Itsuki with him in a headlock.

“Y-yes. Good luck, Kiria,” Itsuki nervously waves. His face is red, his complexion a positively bright shade of pink as he goes to sit in the small but fenced seating area right next to the stage.

“Good luck. Not that you need it,” Yashiro shrugs as he joins the other men.

“Private viewers, huh? I guess I really do need to do my best then. But, alright,” Emboldened from his transformation, Kiria wastes no time in flirting, Kiria no longer the brightest rose in the garden, the prickly adornment too beautiful to be plucked like all the rest.

“Alright Shibuya! Let me hear you make some noise!” He wastes no time in getting the crowd ready, Kiria jumping on stage in beat to get the crowd pumping. To the magic’s credit, not a single soul in the crowd utters a word about Kiria’s new self. The adoring crowd shows their enthusiasm over Kiria with their posters and merch. Even those are modified by the magic, pictures and drawings of Kiria miraculously changed to reflect his current form. They all continue to adore him all the same as he starts singing, Kiria moving onto the next song in his set, The Labyrinth, as if the mirage attack never happened.

The instant Kiria begins to sing, his body fills with the usual infliction of magic, a bit of purple haze imperceptible to himself and to the entire crowd. Kiria sings as if nothing is happening; he continues to slowly walk across the stage, looking out to the uproarious crowd as the magic begins to swell within him anew.

The three men watching from the side keep their newfound shock between the three of them as the mirage’s spell continues to work its magic, Kiria still transforming once more. They all watch with bated breath as Kiria begins to expand, his new masculine figure beginning to look like a stick as he grows.

The growth is as slow as the beginning of Kiria’s transformation, but the extra bit of poundage he starts to gain becomes readily apparent on his lithe, mildly built frame. His corset is the first to struggle against the budding bit of fat on him, like bread rising in the oven. Kiria’s corset already having a difficult time adjusting to his slightly broader, more squarish figure as a man, the extra blubber from his swelling midsection does it no favors. The zipper slowly falls down bit by bit with every few pounds or so, his flat stomach turning into the very onset of a beginner's belly. Until the zipper gets caught from his tummy, the very little give of the corset visibly bulging from the visible swell of his stomach, the bottoms flabs of it forced at an awkward angle with his newfound love handles, the plump little rolls of fat more fitting on a perhaps a little too indulgent individual rather than Kiria’s once slim self. His budding breasts which he once lost begin to appear once more through the added helping of lard being slathered onto his figure. Kiria’s chest doesn’t hold their former voluptuousness. They instead have much more sag to them, the two puffy moobs much smaller than his waist. Kira’s ass and thighs swell up much the same, thighs becoming slowly engorged as they widen, his pants beginning to similarly strain like the rest of his clothes. His pants curve outward as his rear does, Kiria regaining his shapely ass with a bit of extra heft to it, his ass less defined with his extra pudge.

And yet no one says a single word as Kiria grows bigger, his clothes struggling to hold onto their dear life. Kiria even slowly begins to grow taller, a couple extra inches of height added to him as he surpasses six feet tall, Kiria now the tallest of the three as his pants begin to rise up his ankles.

It takes Itsuki clearing his throat to regain his own attention, Kiria’s corset busting clean off after a rather sudden burst of flab on his gut. “Shouldn’t we do something? I mean Kiria probably…” Itsuki purses his lips.

“Just look at the brute. Do you really think he’s not enjoying himself?” The flushed Yashiro has his legs crossed, one svelte thigh resting over his groin. His fingers are clenched around the silky fabric of his black trousers.

Kira flaunts his extra bit of bulk, one hand testing the heft of his belly as he lifts it and then gives it a bit of a taunting smack; he throws the crowd a cheeky smile all the while. The underbit of his gut is exposed. A tiny portion of the smooth, creamy, and flabby skin peeking out with the taut undergarment for the corset struggling to cater to Kiria’s larger, growing size. Though Kiria’s added girth doesn’t stay so soft as patches of fuzzy hair begin to appear on him. Especially underneath his navel, a small but decent patch of pitch black hair for a happy trail suddenly on him as well. His voice grows gruffer as he keeps on singing, the pitch going deeper and deeper.

“It’s just the spell!” Touma half-shouts half-whispers. He leans forward in his seat unlike the other two, but his face is just as red as the others, Touma covering most of his face with his hand. Besides his entranced eyes. “R-right? C’mon Itsuki. you were there when it happened, so tell us already!”

Kiria easily tears through his pants. They last very little longer against the surging tide of mass. Kiria’ thighs now easily surpass their former size, the two meaty legs looking more akin to those of a practicing sumo than a rising popstar. All Kiria has left to show for his pants are tatters of black fabric that litter the stage as well as his legs.

“I don’t know. I mean, we can’t be affected since we remember what happened before this, right? I’m sure at least someone in the crowd would have to have screamed by now if they knew this was happening now,” He turns his head back to the screaming, adoring crowd and sees the same exact merchandise as before, all of it the same besides the morphing depictions of Kiria.

Yashiro hums in agreement, sagely nodding his head as if he has anything to add to Itsuki’s statement. “Kitria’s gaining some muscle too,” No bit of Kiria’s body goes unexplored, no single portion unlovingly admired. Both from Yashiro and the ever-excited crowd.

Both Itsuki and Touma look to where Yashiro points, Kiria’s thighs.

His thighs already large, the two meaty limbs soon become absolutely positive in crushing another man in between. Both from the sheer heft of them but also from the bit of muscle that begins to appear and form on them, the loose, saggy fat slowly but surely firming up as well as they still keep on slowly growing. Not only that, but Kiria’s flabby, oh so smackable gut —which looks a bit too empty to all three party members— also gains some definition to it. Out with the old and in with the new, the fat accumulating on Kiria’s body soon becomes mingled with muscle. His gut continues to swell outward, his large belly bulging outward as if he drank nothing but beer.

“Whatever,” Touma’s ass never leaves his seat. He reclines back into the plush chair, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s better that he gain some muscle. That way, he’s not a useless blob,” He taps his foot to whatever beat that manages to irrelevantly stay in his brain with the growing man in front of him demanding all of his attention.

And Kiria’s figure demands all of Yashiro’s attention as well. Back as hunched as ever, he looks about ready to give himself a permanent hunch. “Tch. As if,” Though Touma’s words hang heavy in his fried mind.

“That wouldn’t have been too bad, would it?” The ringing laughter comes out like none before it. Itsuki painfully hot in the face, he tugs at his collar with a single finger.

Though the men have little reason to complain about Kiria’s unexpected turn of events. Not with his arms looking as capable as snapping them in half as they once did slinging spells at mirages, the former looking even more simple of a task. The heaping layer of fat on Kiria’s arms refuses to betray the unbridled strength beneath them. His arms soon surpass the largest biceps any of the three have seen, Kiria’s thick, virile arms wider than his former thighs; they easily surpass the waists of the three men watching. Or even the entire crowd as Kiria’s longtime fans begin to evolve with the times —and evolve with his girth— a choice few people in the crowd matching Kiria’s extra heft with a bit of flab and some muscle here and there. Though none of them even come close to Kiria’s large, beefy size. Much less his growing stature as Kiria soon surpasses being an incredulous seven feet tall as Kiria continues to grow like a beanstalk. The stage slowly begins to creak as Kiria takes ponderous steps on it, every part of the stage giving its own feedback on his size.

“Do you have any idea when it’s going to end at the very least?” Yashiro finally asks a relevant question, done simply gawking and admiring for a short while before turning his attention back to Kiria. He presses a hand to his lips. The others’ responses go in one ear and swiftly out the other, his attention firmly placed on Kiria’s growing firmness.

“Yeah, Itsuki. Though you clearly don’t seem to mind when it ends,” Touma bumps him in the arm, one arm slugged around his shoulders.

“BWOOORRRP,” Kiria belches directly into the mic, the ear shattering belch loud enough to rival the wyverns they’ve dealt with and loud enough to finally remove the attention off the increasingly creaking stage. Having paused the song with his belch, he catches the crowd’s attention, a booming and resounding applause followed, it definitely catches Itsuki and Touma’s attention, the entire crowd of Shibuya captivated by Kiria’s size like a blue ribbon winning prized hog. Staring at Kiria’s face, the massive wall of a man —that’s now a towering dangerously eight foot, nearly nine foot adonis— has some facial hair to show for it, a small bit of messy scruff for a beard as if he hadn’t shaved for a week or two. His hair looks more fitting on a rockstar than his old self, the loose, flowing locks an untamed mess of hair that manages to still cascade all the way down to his ass even as he grows taller, the concert stage looking more and more cramped as Kiria fills out the massive platform.And underneath his face are his pecs, the two massively sized brawny tits jutting forward and obstructing his vision. They also obstruct everyone else's vision as they command awe and attention. Kiria’s broad chest resembles more a bulging table than anything on a properly sized person; his squeezable, grabbable chest is slathered with a thick patch of hair centered in between the two fat tits unlike the bit of dusting on the rest of his immense figure. The large patch of black hair covers most of his large pecs, the outer tufts of hair coming close to his nipples. Kiria’s tits begin to press up against his tree trunk sized arms, both parts of his grandeur that look ready to break any piece of furniture starting to struggle with mobility with so much of himself to go around. So much of Kiria to get an eyeful of, Itsuki and Touma don’t even think to look down on Kiria’s body. Yashiro gets enough of a look of Kiria’s bulging manhood for all three of them. It takes Kiria finally breaking the twelve foot tall threshold, Kiria now twice as tall as them, for Touma and Itsuki to finally notice; the two of them immediately do their best to not gawk, nervous glances to the side and staring at the floor only working for so long before they can refuse no longer.

Touma loses his embarrassment first. His high pitched and long length whistle is lost amongst Kiria’s groan muddled singing. “Damn. I guess it was a good thing you didn’t stop the spell, huh Itsuki?”

“I…” Itsuki hurriedly covers his crotch with his jacket. “I mean… yeah but still…” Itsuki’s eyes refuse to leave Kiria’s growing dick.

For all the magic’s little worth in keeping Kiria’s clothes adequately equipped for such a massive brick wall of a man, it does manage to keep the small strip of fabric as something akin to clothing, his underwear the sole surviving piece on him. He keeps up with performance even as he reaches the tailend of his set and by extension the concert. Through the effects of the spell, Kiria now wears a dark black jockstrap as deemed adequate with so much fabric needed to create that and that alone for Kiria. The strips of fabric deserve a promotion from the bulk they hold back, Kiria’s swelling manhood pushed forward by the taut, ever so revealing fabric. Kiria’s growing gut begins to press into his dick, the carpet for a happy trail resting and blending into the jockstrap. His thighs similarly struggle against his large dick, the size of it when coupled with Kiria’s still growing stature easily beginning to surpass every single crowd member’s entire body. Though that doesn’t stop Kiria from singing. He grabs and adjusts his junk, Kiria needing to pull up the dangerously low jockstrap that struggles to withstand the weight of his package.

Easily pushing four times as tall as the next tallest person in Shibuya, the stage finally gives away underneath the massive mountain of a man. Kiria neither screams nor panics. He only rests a hand on his massive car crushing musclegut as he lets out a pleased huff. “Thanks for coming -buuhhoourrp- to Shhibuya everyone!”

“Encore! Encore! Encore!” The entire crowd screams, everyone jumping as they demand more. Those in front try their best to reach and pick up as many scattered pieces of the stage as they can.

Kiria rubs the back of his head —albeit struggling to reach back there with his biceps squishing against his face as well as the lack of flexibility he has all around. His hairy armpit is visible to the entire crowd, a mess of camera flashes taken from every angle for everyone to post online and gawk over like they do with every concert. “Sorry everyone but our staff really needs time to clean up this mess,” He pats his belly, letting out another resounding belch. “And I really gotta fill up this tank,”

And eventually, the crowd slowly begins to dissipate, the countless staff members they have for such an event safely getting everyone out in an orderly line.

Kiria’s three watching party members go back on the ruined stage, rubble kicked around as they approach him.

Having now stopped growing, Kiria crouches down to face the three men standing in the tatters of his destruction. His outfit is completely gone with all of it in tatters. All that remains of it is a skimpy jockstrap that only pushes his enormous third leg forward. “What’s the matter, Yashiro? You’ve always been jealous of my size, but I mean, so is everyone else,” Kiria comments as Yashiro glares at him. The glare is no less softened as Kiria practically shoves his dick right in front of his face, Yashiro craning his neck the best he can to look up at Kiriia’s face and not the hill for a dick or the overhanging cliff for tits.

“Nothing,” He continues to glare up at Kiria despite his crimson red face.

“You said you were hungry, right? So c’mon already. I thought you wanted to fill up that tank of yours,” Touma wastes no time with pleasantries. Standing right next to Kiria, Touma is nothing more than a molehill to a mountain. He doesn’t even come up to the lowest bits of Kiria’s gut—even with Kiria crouching down the best that can— and with Kiria’s dick right in front of him, the massive manhood is longer than Touma is tall. And more than three times as wide as Touma rests a hand on it.

“Damn right I am. Come on, Itsuki. There should be some food waiting for me at Uzume,” Kiria stands at his full height. If not aware of Kiria’s predicament, the three would believe the world to be ending, all three men eclipsed in his enormous shadow as Kiria blots out the sun from where he stands, and the buildup of tremors as Kiria moves around very nearly knock them flat on their asses. His face is obscured from the three of them, his height making it a difficult task to bask in all of his glory; his jutting chest makes it flat out impossible, Kiria also unable to look down at them with his pecs in the way. Though his wobbling musclegut would do the same. He takes slow lumbering steps through the designated walkway just for him.

“Wait! You can’t possibly…” Rushing back around, Itsuki’s words are already useless with Kiria unable to hear such a tiny man. And his protests die down once he sees Uzume’s transformed state, the skyscraper-like building taking up the entire block now. All for Kiria most likely, the enormous man requiring the space.

Touma already follows behind Kiria. He has to run just to somewhat keep up with him, still lagging behind as he struggles to keep his balance from the tremors of Kiria’s labored walking.

“Just hurry it up, Itsuki. Clearly everything Kiria needs to be refit for his new identity will mold to it. So we might as well get used to it,” Yashiro beckons him forward, following behind the two men. He barely hides his near speed walk pace while he attempts to hastily catch up to them.

The two of them enter the much, much, much smaller entrance of the two, the regular door akin to a mousehole next to the broad, expansive entrance built just for Kiria. Which he even struggles to fit into, all three getting a view of his exposed ass wedged against the edges of the doorway as he tries to fit himself past the door despite the attempts from his gut and dick pressed up against the other end of the doorway try to stop him before he goes in at an angle. Which is difficult for him with his limited flexibility. But he lets out a contented groan once he’s inside. Kiria is at least cognizant of his size. He puts little pressure on the wall, a swarm of memories swirling in his brain of him breaking enough things. But Itsuki and Yashiro find themselves back inside Uzume just fine; only Touma and Kiria are waiting for them along with enough food to seemingly feed an entire army. Or enough just for one greedy, massive Kiria.

Only one room in the newly sized Uzume is able to withstand Kiria’s new bigger body. All the other rooms are far too small for him to even squeeze a fist inside. He waits inside the former waiting room now turned into a dual feature vocal training room and waiting room. The room is blisteringly cold as well. Kiria’s body heat radiates all around him, the confined area a sweltering sauna if not for the frigid temperature the air conditioning system set in place just for Kiria. And to Kiria, the room feels perfectly fine to him despite the cramped conditions. Kiria barely manages to squeeze inside the snug building despite being made with his own enormity in mind. The upper wisps of his hair brush against the ceiling, even with Kiria slightly bent over to make some extra room. He has more than plenty of room in the other dimensions until he sits down, the walls shaking and trembling regardless of how gentle he tries to be with his movement. He uses one end of the wall as his personal backrest. His broad, powerful back takes up most of the width of it. Kiria’s jutting shoulder blades make the most contact with it, his slightly doughy yet broad shoulders also pressed up against it. The outermost curves of his biceps —the widest circumference of them akin to an entire car— chafe against the walls of the room. They also press up against his bulging pecs, the two oversized tits plumped up with copious amounts of lard and muscle just like the rest of his body. The two jutting breasts obscure most of Kiria’s face with him leaning back. And his traps make it difficult for him to shift his head to look around him. Kiria also takes up most of the entire length of the room despite not even fully laying down, his feet pressing up against the other end of the room; the robust, sturdy walls already have a few cracks in them from other days. His bulging thighs rest comfortably against the floor. At least his right thigh which Kiria has almost fully extended, the straightened out leg pressed up against his crotch. He has his left knee bent up to help him a bit with his balance; his knee comes far above the three smaller men’s heads. His left thigh presses up against his gut, the large ball of fat pushed a bit back against the thigh big enough to seat all three men on it. His gut also looks more than capable of seating all three of them and many more, the jutting curve of it deep enough from the sheer size and heft of it despite how his powerful chest rests and presses atop it. Kiria’s gut still has some sag to it despite his gained musculature; it rests on his bulging dick still struggling to stay inside his jockstrap, the hill of his dick taking most of the weight of his gut. Kiria’s bulge rests on the ground, the jockstrap finally having some relief, the fabric visibly worn out from how stretched the tent-like clothing is.

“Time for the best part, fan food always tastes great,” Kiria makes no motion to move himself, rather comfortable in his spot. And neither do the three men, all suddenly embarrassed as they remain glued to their spots. “Well? What are you all waiting for? You guys always love feeding me,” Kiria burps. He rests a hand on his firm gut, rubbing the grumbling gut that’s shattered a few windows in his brand new memories before Fortuna Entertainment became properly equipped with handling his immense size.

“Hmmph. If you insist on being a glutton then,” Yashiro moves first. Very little room for him to freely stand in, he shuffles around the bulky, sinewy thighs to reach the overburdened table filled with food. Yashiro is practically stuck between Kiria’s thighs and the wall, the cramped fit especially warm with him practically pushed up against Kiria. But he finds himself reaching for as much as he can possibly hold with just two hands.

He also finds Touma right behind him, over eager in loading the provided serving trays with as much meat he can grab. Almost all of the food he grabs is some meat dish or another. “Hurry it up. I thought you were eager to feed him,” Touma hands Yashiro another serving tray, laughing as the older man seems ready to swat him with it.

“I’ll-” The ground trembles underneath them, another earthquake suddenly striking as Kiria’s gut grumbles. Yashiro comes crashing onto Kiria’s immense thigh, his head not even surpassing the upper crest of the meaty, powerful limb. Not a single piece of food ends up wasted on the ground thankfully.

The two men have their trays ready. The four trays alone would be an overwhelming amount of food for the two of them and Itsuki, but for Kiria alone, the food looks underwhelmingly insufficient.

The ground shakes once more with a small but deep gurgle. “That should be enough for an appetizer for now,” Kiria holds out his hand for the two men, the back of his hand resting on the floor with his palm open. “It’s more fun feeling you all crawl on me, but I need food. Now,” Kiria belches, the walls themselves shaking now as he rests his other hand on his gut. He also gives it a couple squeezes. That and his tits, his biceps struggling much more with the latter.

And Yashiro and Touma accept Kiria’s hand. Touma stands straight up, smirking up at Kiria the best he can with so much bulk in the way. Yashiro sits down, his legs dangling off the edge of Kiria’s palm.

“Hurry it up, Itsuki! I’m starving over here,” The walls themselves shake and tremble this time from his mere voice alone, his voice slightly raised. His rumbling gut quaking the floor doesn’t help matters, his gut almost resting on the floor if not for his massive endowment in the way.

Itsuki rests a hand on the wall, everything moving around him. Looking up at Kiria with his face just as flushed as the very first few moments of seeing him grow, he only sighs. But he obediently goes over to the table filled with a buffet of food —after adjusting his tight pants and a couple of deep, flustered breaths. And he joins the other two men on Kiria’s hands, Itsuki kneeling down on it in hopes of not falling over and spilling everything.

Three pairs of eager feet step down on Kiria’s body, Touma and Itsuki resting on his broad, massive traps that resemble a sidewalk to the two of them while Yashiro makes himself comfortable sitting atop the massive overhang of Kiria’s bulging chest. “See how easy that was. Feels good to have such handy little helpers,” Kiria expectantly opens his mouth. And he accepts every bit of food that they toss into his eager maw.

Yashiro treats him like a garbage disposal, chucking entire meals into his mouth without thinking an ounce over it. “You better hurry it up, there’s still way too much food,” He even throws a bit of food once Kiria closes his mouth, Kiria ending up with a bit of a mess smattered over his lips. And he ends up quickly reprimanded each time he does it, Kiria using a single finger to press into him, holding him squarely in place despite his flustered protests.

“Yeah, man! If you eat it fast enough, then it’ll still be early enough for us to get you some more. You’re gonna need it, right?” Touma standing much closer to Kiria’s face, he still has to toss the equivalent of buckets of food to his gaping mouth, his experience in throwing spears and javelins leaving him well equipped for the job. Kiria only hums in agreement, urging Touma to hurry it up as Touma greedily lists all of Kiria’s favorites, the same as before.

Itsuki is far more reserved than the other two. Though still being willingly complicit in the situation has him looking rather strange to begin with. “Just make sure you take your time, Kiria. You might get a stomach ache,” He coos and worries over, slowly feeding Kiria his favorite foods, his assumption of his personal favorites not having changed a bit a correct one. Kiria only plucks him up and places him closer, clear in his hunger despite how he carefully pets Itsuki for his fretting.

Kiria simply keeps on accepting the food, none of them finding the situation of feeding a twenty plus foot tall behemoth of a man strange at all. “I can’t wait for the next concert,”

#my writing #fat emblem #male weight gain #ssbhm #feeder emblem #fat fiction #maleweightgain #male tf #male giant #male muscle #buff emblem #muscle kink

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thegeminisage · 6 months ago

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STAR TREK UPDATE TIME I'M SO FUCKING BEHINDDD ok ok monday we did ds9's "trials and tribble-ations" and "let he who is without sin..." then tuesday we did voy's "future's end parts i & ii," and finally wednesday we did voy's "warlord" and ds9's "things past."

trials and tribble-ations (ds9):

ohhh i wish i'd had time to write about this when it was fresher on my mind. what a wonderful experience and episode. i feel like i got spoiled for the concept of it but it was still so amazing because i just genuinely COULD NOT BELIEVE they could do that. like, the entire thing felt like magic to me. it's not as if they could ask william shatner to reshoot - they could only used what they had from back then. and they made it work and they made it look SO GOD, like, not just for the 90s, but for today. the lighting, the resolution, the colors...everything was flawless. o'brien and bashir in that lineup??? like i wouldn't have known if i didn't know. jesus christ

did i spend a lot of time crying because i was so overwhelmed with my deep adoration for spock? yes. maybe i screamed aloud when he came on my screen. who can say. dax being a spock girlie is so fucking correct by the way i bet william shatner wanted to kermit when that aired. also good on her for bagging mccoy although i think it would have been funnier if she hadn't said which body she was in so we could have fun speculating about bones having sex with men <3

THEM THROWING THE TRIBBLES THAT WOUND UP IN KIRK'S CLEAVAGE...............iconique

odo baby talking the tribbles. incredible. also, worf and the klingon head ridge lore which shall never be explained

and of course let's NOT forget kirk making the sex eyes at sisko. they took that footage from the mirrorverse ep when he was ogling our universe's version of marlena. KIRK CANONICALLY DTF SISKO. CANONICALLY INTO MEN. DIE MAD ABOUT IT. it was so cool and heartwarming but also INCREDIBLY fucking funny

also. ABSOLUTELY gratified they brought some back to ds9 and got away with it. sisko is so fucking cool i love when he rule breaks

just an absolutely magical experience. like, it really blew my mind because i didn't think it was something that could be done. one of the greatest examples of trek pushing the limits of possibility

let he who is without sin... (ds9):

man i wanna like worf in ds9 so bad but like...does he feel off to anyone else? from how he was in tng? don't get me wrong i love ds9 and hated tng and worf in ds9 is Fine the way he was also Fine in tng but i just cant see tng worf cooperating with extremists who are also doing a bit of light terrorism. he'd call them dishonorable and send them packing even if he did agree

also, like, he killed a kid in soccer? by headbutting him? that's tragic backstory but like also kind of ridiculous and funny? i can't believe they played that totally straight. he soccered a kid to death.

anyway, everybody's outfits were very good. i loved dax's mermaid look

also SOOO glad leeta and julian are breaking up so she can get with ROM!!!!!!!! my best friend rom...he deserves so much happiness and i hope they stay together forever and ever amen

anyway like it was Fine im glad dax and worf are back on track but also what the hell...it was very baffling to me as well

future's end parts i & ii (voy):

this one was also Fine. like, the plot didn't make a bit of sense - i thought the 90s in trek were supposed to be some kind of hell hole but after watching space seed they may have just barely gotten by - the eugenics wars ended in 96. still, LA did not look like an area recently decimated by eugenics wars. i'm really interested in that era of trek history, where it veers off from our own history, but so much of it seems muddy and in conflict with itself, which is a bummer

that said, i did have fun watching janeway and chakotay have like a little earth date together. also good for the doc for getting to run around freely now, and sarah silverman was v fun even if she could totally do better than tom paris. everybody's outfits were extremely fun even though tuvok's was uh. well.

HOWEVER. the limited amount of fun i was having was kind of uhhh canceled out by the. random white supremacists??? especially wild choice considering the eugenics wars didn't involve white supremacy because their number one guy was KHAN like what the hell???

i wish i had more to say about it but it was just a genuinely baffling experience. mostly fun, but baffling. the plot was like swiss cheese

warlord (voy):

OKAY THIS ONE WAS FUN. we got off to an extremely rough start (neelix foot massage complete with sex noises) and there was that neelix and kes fight post possession that i hated because it sort of shouted out to my least favorite arc in all of voyager, but AFTER we got into man

man are you ever so tiny and helpless and nice and then you get to go ape shit. good for HER

like yeah fine she was possessed but she got to menace him herself in the end too

her body language was so incredible. she's like so tiny and yet she owned the entire room when she was strutting around like that. i loved her guy voice. i loved watching her murder people in cold blood. i loved whatever lgbt thing they almost did and then pussied out of doing

AND I LOVED. THE SCENE WITH TUVOK. man that dude can ACT. it was so tense and so good and technically he's kissed a man on screen now. i did go back and rewatch that several times because tuvok is my best friend and it was so evil and horrid >:)

anyway absolutely banger of an ep. could ahve stood less neelix but this is true of most voyager episodes

things past (ds9):

OOOOOOH MY BEST FRIEND ODO HAS DONE SOME CRIMES

i really went into this thinking garak was gonna like Learn A Lesson about the occupation because he was gonna be in it without his status as a cardassian to protect him but instead we outed odo as a fuck-up. and you know? good for him

like i felt a little defensive about it at first because it almost seemed like we were just trying to knock odo down a peg when he's already Suffering but the more i think about it the more sense it makes. like, his desire for order is intrinsic to his species, but that desire for order led to something terrible happening, and then by the time he's met kira he has enough self doubt and worry about the consequences of false accusations that he LETS HER GO despite having actually found the correct murderer. it's so delicious

and then the scene at the end where she's like horrified. the way he was horrified when he found out she lied. AUGHGHGHG parallels i can't wait until 1000 years from now when they get together

also, hi, dukat??? like i knew he was a bad person but i thought he was a bad person in like a fun way. sisko's gay little friend who sent him fireworks for his road trip and sat on one of those little spines for kira. but he's like a bAD bad person. was that leeta dax was supposed to have been, in his office? leeta deserves to kill him actually. and like, WHTY is he so into bajoran women. i think we know. like sure siyal's mom was "in love with him" like ok dude. of course he tried to kill ziyal. of COURSE kira was like no she can stay on the station far away from you :)

idk it's like a great reminder that even people who are funny and seem nice and harmless are capable of absolutely unforgiveable acts and all people are layered. everyone is human and everyone has the capacity for being inhumane. etcetc. very good. every time dukat is on screen he gets more interesting

i do kind of wish we had gotten more from garak though...? it feels like he's just There some episodes. i miss when he had more content with bashir go back to queerbaiting us!!!

TONIGHT: voy's "q and the grey" (GROSS) and ds9's "the ascent," or possibly "first contact," or possibly star wars, who knows

#personal #star trek blogging #ds9 lb #voy lb

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squipedmew · 1 year ago

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Behold, the updated team OMEN lineup! (click for better quality)

I ended up revamping the designs pretty much completely because, if I'm being honest, I feel like the originals were too boring, especially for the world of RWBY, not to mention my character design skills have improved a lot since I first designed them.

I'm super happy with how all of these have turned out, and I think they're finally starting to look like a semi-cohesive unit (as much as these dysfunctional dorks can anyways)

individual designs/design notes under the cut!

Oscar's obviously undergone the most change in this AU, so it makes sense for his outfit to be the most radically different. However, I still wanted you to be able to tell this was still Oscar, if that makes any sense. As such, I wanted to incorporate some elements of his other outfits into this one.

I leaned WAY more into the steampunky vibes with this design, and I ended up using the shade of red that's on his Atlas jacket.

Since he tends to associate green with Ozpin (he barely had any green on his v4 design, and only started wearing it after he started coming to terms with the merge) I wanted to incorporate the autumn colors of his v4 design in. Lots of dark reds and browns, though with a much more muted color palate than before.

He's still got that pop of green w/ the patch on his leg tho

The goggles are to hide when the grimm starts to show in his eyes.

The gear pin is actually a gear he took from Long Memory as a memento!

The bag on the back of his belt is for carrying Dust rounds.

He tends to have most of his body covered, as to hide the scars he got from the grimm and his time with Salem

The whole team have their emblems slashed for symbolic reasons (and also b/c merc thought it looked cool.) his is on the back of his jacket!

Mercury is arguably the character who's design went through the biggest changes over the years. Truth be told, I had a lot of trouble designing him when I first started, considering his Vale outfit was so bland and didn't give me much to work off of. Thankfully, V8 picked up the slack and gave me a better idea of what to go for.

I designed him to invoke a sort of beat up vigilante kind of feel - someone who's roughing it most of the time, and doesn't really have the time to care about appearances.

His coat is SUPER torn up due to his fighting style, being incredibly close quarters. The rips on the bottom are unintentional, but I imagine that when they got to Vacuo, he just cut the sleeves off it himself.

I wanted to turn the saturation of his colors WAY UP, not only because it looks more interesting this way, but because it's also indicative of the headspace he's in by the time he gets this outfit, which is to say, a lot brighter.

I also wanted to make his face a LITTLE bit more distinct, so I gave him an eyebrow slit and a mole on his cheek, along with a lot of scars from all the fighting he’s done over the years. I imagine Neo helped him with the eyebrow.

The jacket actually has ice Dust woven on the inside, to keep him cool. Nevertheless, he loves to fling it off dramatically during battle, Edward Elric style.

Emerald gifted him the dog tag - it was one of the first pieces of jewelry she ever made.

His emblem is on the back of his coat - he wanted it to stand out from everyone else's, so he slashed it twice.

And on the other hand, Emerald's design is probably the one that's changed the least. I kinda struck gold with the mark 2 outfit, so I didn’t really feel the need to deviate all that much.

I wanted her design to be one that gives the impression of mobility - light, simple enough, with lots of arm and leg room to maneuver around (and yes I know the heels aren't practical for that, let me have this)

I changed the black color to have a hood on her top instead because I thought it fit the character better. Em is a thief after all - hoods are good for stealth.

The biggest change is, of course, the undercut. Out of everyone in the group, Emerald's the most accustomed to the heat, so she'd probably cut it a bit to keep her head a bit cooler.

All the bracelets and earings she's wearing are handmade, probably out of scrap metal she’s found while on the streets. I imagine that Emerald is pretty crafty, and likes making stuff like this in her spare time.

The red accents in her previous outfits were there to match with Cinder (who, noticeably never had any green accents in return) As such, this design lacks any red accents, as she's trying to move on from that toxic relationship.

Her pockets are actually pretty deep, and hold things like bandages and emergency mini smoke grenades.

Her emblem is also on the back of her jacket, matching Oscar's.

And finally, best girl Neo. TBH, I VASTLY prefer her Vale design to her Atlas ones (it's my fave in the whole show) so I drew more from that than the other one.

I was kinda trying to go for a magician's assistant vibe with this outfit, with the bowtie and gloves and all that.

Neo's not very experienced with the heat, being Atlesian, so she didn't really dress properly. As such, she ended up putting her hair in a ponytail.

A fun idea I got right away were slits in her sleeves and pants, but then I one-upped myself, and thought; what if they were lace?

The original design had way too much black and not enough brown, so I tried to incorporate more of that into this design, since, y'know - Neapolitan ice cream and all that.

She's changed the band of her hat to be a more reddish shade, in remembrance of Torchwick, and she's also swapped out the feather to match the rest of her outfit.

And yes, she swapped the sides of her hair each color was on to see if anyone would notice. (No one has said anything yet.)

Her emblem is a pin on the side of her hat. Neo didn't strike me as the type of character to wear an emblem, but I still wanted to incorporate it, so I figured something subtle like a pin would work.

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lumilasi · 1 year ago

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UPDATE: Fixed Reuben's pants as they looked like tubes filled with air rather than fabric. Also while I did this I realized I fucked up, and never actually saved Lionel's coat look somehow? So I had to just take it from the OG family lineup and post it as a separate piece, and his hair now looks brighter in color in it as a result.....

How the fucknuggets did I not save when I adjusted his outfit to create the coat????????

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I initially meant to make alternate outfits/outfit additions for Reuben and Annabelle as well, but this has taken me 3 days already, and I'm kinda done with it lmao, I can add those later. Azul's family. (Annabelle belongs to @mad-hatter-rici)

(This is Azul btw, he's kind of the "main" character for this family group specifically, even if he's not the protagonist of the overall story)

Also, fun facts about the family below:

Lionel's style is often goth-adjacent, even if he rarely wears pure black. He also typically carries a journal with him, where he tends to write down his thoughts, usually not related to his job of course, given patient confidentiality.

Lionel tends to hide away his tail and ears when at work, as they can be distracting to some patients and the tail can get in the way

Lionel is the family doctor for one of the story protagonists, Avane Faydream and her family.

Reuben wears a lot of colorful patterned clothing, his style is generally very colorful, boho-inspired vibe.

Reuben's mage form looks similar to Azul's purple undercoat in his mage outfit, only Reuben's is red since he's a fire elemental mage.

Reuben was always closer with Adam, namely because Azul kinda suck at handling kids. (He still loves his baby brother, even if he was/is awkward around him)

Adam often jokes that he was born from an egg, since his mama is a songbird. Had he been born as one, he indeed would've been born from an egg, rather than the mammal birth from a womb.

Adam loves wearing colorful outfits, typically brighter pastels.

Adam can in fact sign as beautifully as his mother, even if he can't do the more destructive side of her voice. They sometimes burst into a duet randomly, much to Lionel's amusement, Reuben's delight, and Azul's fond annoyance.

Annabelle is friends with the grandmother of the protagonist family of this story, Yui Araknos. Yui calls her "funny birdlady" sometimes, jokingly.

Annabelle gave birth to Adam much later from his adoptive brother's arrival, because as much as she loved kids and wanted to have them, she was apprehensive about all the possible birth complications and a little afraid of pregnancy at the time. It was only after her adoptive boys were starting to leave the nest so to speak, that she started to warm up to the idea. (Lionel was always supportive of her, whatever she wished to do)

Annabelle calls her husband "Aster," Adam her "kitten", Reuben is "Robin", and Azul is "Bluebird."

#artists on tumblr #oc illustration #oc reference #chesire cat #songbird #digital art #lumi's art scribbles #lumi's chaotic creations #Night city parlor #Knight family #Reuben Samaros #Reuben Knight #Lionel Knight #Adam Knight #Annabelle Knight #my oc #friend's oc #The mage and the mobster #Starknight

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mydollsaregay · 2 years ago

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my overall thoughts on this release!

to start with - I hate that they reused names. Most kids who are currently into ag probably know nothing about isabelle and nicki of the past, but it still comes off as lazy, honestly. yes, those are popular names for Jewish girls, but there are SO MANY OTHER popular names for Jewish girls. it’s just silly. nicki 1.0 was also a part of my childhood collection, and is very dear to me, so it also makes me personally annoyed that the twin I like the best would have the same name, if I were ever to decide I wanted her in my collection lmao

second, the timing. there was simply no good reason to release these girls SO soon after claudie and kavi. i understand that ag wanted to hop on the 90s nostalgia train, but waiting even two or three more months would have felt much less like they were stealing the spotlight from the dolls of color they recently released.

on that note, I’m of two minds about the route ag is currently traveling in regards to representation. looking at just the last few character releases (Corrine, claudie, kavi, now the twins), it makes sense for the company to choose to produce some white characters, as their main demographic is still white kids and their parents, no matter our opinion as adult collectors. On top of that, I personally really love adding more Jewish representation to the historical lineup, and I’m looking forward to seeing how that part of their lives is shown in their stories.

However (and it’s a big however), if we focus in on the historical lineup alone, it feels really bad to add more white characters. Many people have expressed the criticisms of this choice more eloquently than I, but despite the inclusion of more Jewish characters being unambiguously a good thing, there are other extremely glaring gaps that need to be filled as well. however, this is a bed that AG has built for themselves over many, MANY years, and I don’t personally think it’s fair to pin all the disappointment for that on the twins, especially when they add more Jewish rep to the line. You’re right to be disappointed in ag; I am too. But I find that I’m personally more disappointed with ags choices around other recent white historical dolls than these ones, if that makes sense. but this is a tricky subject with a lot of complicated emotions involved, and there’s not one simple correct way to feel about it!

I do find the twin thing a bit silly however; “oh you didn’t want us to add a white doll to the historical line right now? That’s fine, we’re adding two!”. it’s cute that they’re twins, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t feel that they’re different enough to justify two dolls? Idk, my thoughts on it are complicated and not fully formed but like. It feels silly, when choosing between two different historical dolls, to be basically picking whether you like sporty or preppy fashion more lol.

Also, ag tried the two dolls for one time period thing with Marie-grace and Cécile, girls who actually had some really interesting contrasts in their lives worth bringing up, and that didn’t even work out for ag, profits-wise. So idk how “we wear different clothing styles and sleep on opposite sides of the same bedroom” will be different/interesting enough to give ag the profits they want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Speaking of clothes, let’s get into the actual dolls, starting with the meet outfits/accessories. overall: I think they’re cute!

my only real nitpick with the outfits is that I’m not a fan of Isabel’s shoes. I actually think they’re really cute, but with the heels/platforms, they don’t seem right with this outfit. They make the whole outfit seem way more grown-up, which looks off to me. I think lower platforms would have kept the cute vibe but given her a less adult look, which would be a nice visual cue, as she seems to be taking a lot of her fashion cues from more adult/older teen fashion of the time, from what I can tell. As a result, she looks a little older than her age to me at first glance (more 15/16 than tween). idk if a kid in ‘99 would have worn shoes like that, as I was a toddler at the time, but I doubt it. In the early 2000s, where a lot of fashion trends still lingered, I don’t remember ever seeing another kid wear heels or platforms outside of dress-up. I could be wrong about the accuracy, but I still don’t personally like them in this context. however, that’s really just a personal taste thing. Isabel’s style isn’t to my taste in general, so it’s fine haha

I REALLY like nickis outfit, and I think the accessories add a LOT there. I love the layering - I did that a lot as a kid in the 2000s (that was certainly one of the trends that stuck around), and I love the necklaces. she also looks much cuter with the hat on in this pic than in the initial pics that released, and I think a ton of that has to do with how her hair is styled.

I think Nicki would have looked really wonderful with a meet hairstyle of braids. it would have gone with her active lifestyle and would have looked really cute with the blonde pieces free. she’s in braids on her book cover, and it’s adorable. She also has her hair braided in the product pics for her skateboarding outfit. With her hair styled instead of down she also looks way less like a full grown adult woman, which is a weird vibe she gives off to me in those initial pics.

like, those braids are so cute! I think braids were probably at one point a possibility for her meet style, but they were probably nixed due to the added cost of labor to do a hairstyle and the small pieces on the back of the wig for the part(though that is entirely speculation).

I don’t have nearly as many thoughts on Isabel’s hair. it’s cute, if basic. it makes sense for her character (from what we know so far), and it makes sense for the time (though if it was real hair, it would probably have a lot more layers, but that’s hard to make look right at doll scale).

overall, I think they’re nice dolls, with unfortunate timing. they both have some details that aren’t my favorite, but overall they’re cute. however, the promo pics that got leaked (and are currently the product photos for the dolls without accessories), are honestly terrible and manage to make both twins look their worst. unfortunately, i think AG is really struggling to make promo photos of dolls with the new eyelashes look right, even when the dolls look fine in person. I’ll make a separate post for the collection, since this is already so long!

#american girl #american girl dolls #agblr #isabel hoffman #nicki hoffman #my posts #my opinions

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hoardlikegoldenirises · 1 year ago

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Geckonyx aka Naomi Ishii, herpetologist and licker of rocks. Oh, and she can stick to things.

I have no self control so I designed several alternate costumes for Naomi, because I wanted to play with different color schemes and patterns inspired by different kinds of gecko (...and one frog)

And... a couple different variations for her head for each of them, because of my inability to choose between helmet and mask. I like both, I just don't want her to look too much like Spider-Woman. But I think, thanks to Blue Beetle and my emphasizing the round shape, that her masks look pretty distinct from any of the Spider-Women. It's still extremely blatantly Spidery to give a female wallcrawler this kind of mask, even if she doesn't shoot webs, but I think the bulbousness of the lenses and the cutout around her nose really helps shift the vibe.

EDIT: changed her gloves to all be fingerless so she can use her venom.

Closeups and some (a lot of) notes under the cut:

Western Banded Gecko (aka Naomi's first costume):

okay this is the oldest both literally and metatextually lol, I drew this in 2022 when I was first designing everyone, though it's had a minor color modification since then (more rose gold, less pink, but looks basically exactly the same) This one is rougher because I didn't bother redrawing the body for it. I'm only making the neat pics for the designs I haven't made refs for (and Seth's upgraded suit for completion's sake)

(Naomi is 30 by the way. she gets carded a lot.)

So, the western banded gecko. they don't have that much green irl, mostly like cream and pink and maroon, but there are hints of green so I included that because I liked the contrast. also. something i did not realize at the time is that, uh, i don't think... western banded geckos... stick. my excuse is that i am not a herpetologist and I just thought they looked cute and had nice colors. my retroactive excuse for Naomi is that she thought it was funny.

Anyway. This is Naomi's first costume, which she handmade. In-universe, while she is, yes, a herpetologist, she is also... a nerd. wait. she's already a nerd—I mean she likes comic books, cosplaying, lucha and pro-wrestling, not just lizards and rocks. So yes maybe I did purposefully give her a lucha mask to evoke Spider-Man, since she's a wallcrawler, and maybe I did purposefully make her literally a Spider-Man Fan because I thought it was funny, but also in my defense as far as mask design, I have... way too many goggles in my lineup... 😂 I had to have some variety in there. also it seemed like a good workaround for long hair.

The G on her chest is also meant to be a lizard/tail btw. And she made the whole costume herself out of fabric she got from the craft store and like, tights and stuff, so... iridescent mermaid scale spandex, etc. You can see her cosplay skills at play here compared to, for example, Seth's homemade Scratch costume, which, while sleek in its own right, is literally just black sportswear and a motorcycle helmet LOL

the little yellow strap-on shoes. The tights are stirrup tights, that way Naomi has the most important parts of her feet exposed but the tights will still stay put etc etc etc. They're probably a really high denier lol

Why does she really need the stirrup cut to expose the soles of her feet though? Well, since I have her using setae/van der waals forces to cling (vs. my version of peter parker, who has a fullbody electrostatic aura that works by charging his entire body including his clothes), this means... Naomi can't wear shoes or gloves while she sticks... at least, not without special materials. So her outfit is designed with that in mind; fingerless gloves so her fingertips are exposed and easily removable shoes she puts on a carabiner on the back of her waistband:

So practical! It's probably got a snap crotch leotard for the white part too but I didn't bother figuring that out here.

Anywho—upgraded suits.

Blue Tailed Day Gecko (female coloration):

This is the main intended step up I was thinking for her, despite the multiple other suits in this post. Consider this one "canonical" lmao idk what the rest are for i'm just like this.

The G logo on this one is a little smoother in its curves which I could say was on purpose but was kind of just me not really looking at the original when I drew it LOL though it IS supposed to look more like a tail, so that works fine for my purposes. I was originally considering giving her an actual lizard symbol (like the kind that show up if you google "lizard logo" I guess...) but I didn't like the way it looked in my sketches and trying to add little legs just felt too cluttered so I kept it simple. Unfortunately it does look kind of like a maggot or something when it's white like this, but I don't think Naomi would consider that a bad thing 😂

For most of my refs I didn't bother with the sexual dimorphism and stuff while looking for inspiration, but blue-tailed day lizards have like, really strong color dimorphism and I liked both a lot so I wanted to do one for each. So this one is inspired by the female coloration.

I didn't bother trying to recreate the lizard's pattern particularly, mostly focused on colors and vibes and good silhouettes that still evoked the shapes in her handmade costume. The copper spots on her back are based on that lizard's patterning though. But the female blue-tails tend to be pretty green, with a hint of blue, so I went with the blue-green gradient, and then since they have a lot of browns and earth tones I went with the sparkly bronze and the copper colors, and a fun coppery-bronze visor.

Anyway she will probably be a little more muscular by the time she gets a nice suit like this, just from supporting her own body weight (though she doesn't exactly weigh a whole lot and her strength is completely un-augmented so like... can't compare to Seth, whose job it is to leap five feet into the air and lift 5'10" athletes above their head lol) but she's still not exactly a bruiser.

(*edited 11/1 to add texture to green material, since, you know, lizards... scales... etc.)

And something you may be wondering is:

Why a helmet?

Well.

That's why.

Me, sowing by purposefully referencing Spider-Man in my wallcrawler's costume: teehee~

Me, reaping when I realize I can't put lenses on her mask without making her Literally Just Spider-Woman: fuck

I've got my ways though. Obviously. I wanted to keep the almond shape of the lucha silhouette even for the helmets though so I looked at some sentai helmets as reference and I just kinda winged it.

also I like that the visor on this helmet is kind of shaped like a heart 🧡 and also kind of like a butterfly 🦋 it's a good fit for Naomi, who is supposed to be cheerful and cute on top of liking, you know, lizards and bugs and shit.

At the same time I decided to play with variations on the lucha style mask and round bug-eyed lenses that aren't framed, and I do like how those look... I just can't tell if it's too Spider-Man or not. But I like the look so much I think I might use it... maybe she swaps between helmet and mask depending on context and weather.

Very cute... extra shimmery...

Anyway like my scribbly handwriting says, the helmet also serves, well, helmet purposes, to protect Naomi's head if she falls. Which is like, "well why would that even be a problem?" and the answer is simple: Naomi doesn't have super strength and her healing power is technically only "enhanced," generally speaking. Not to burden the Spider-Man comparisons but if you think about silver age and some early bronze age Peter Parker, it's kinda like that. She's tougher than she was before, and heals a little faster, but she can still break her arm if she falls wrong, or get laid up with the flu (though she's probably not quite as flu-prone as Peter, the guy who appears to have caught every flu strain known to man.)

In my head (...badum tss) she uses the helmet outside/high up/if it's cold or in other situations she might need more protection, and the mask is for like, indoors, more cramped spaces, or casual situations that still require her to keep her face hidden but maybe not quite as anonymous. also like, probably talking to people would be easier in the mask since her mouth is free and I didn't exactly put vents or filters on these helmets. (that's how you know they aren't regular materials)

Naomi does have some latent regenerative healing abilities (tied to the gecko theme) but—and I mean this in the most literal way possible: it doesn't work if she loses her head, so a helmet is probably still a good idea. also she won't know about this ability until something needs to grow back so her subconscious suit design would probably not take regeneration into account anyway?

idk i haven't quite worked out how these suits work yet. I know they're programmable matter and some kind of exotic or metamaterial, and in my head I've been thinking about them as similar-ish to the Fantastic Four's unstable molecules, but as far as specifics go, I dunno.

Wait I know one specific.

The white parts on her palms and soles are (some kind of silicon substrate probably?) made with CARBON NANOTUBES in them. This was in my plans already in a vague sense, in that I knew her fancy upgraded suit was going to get rid of the barefoot requirement and specifically allow her to use shoes, but it wasn't until a few days ago in a wiki hole that I realized I could use carbon nanotubes for that. I was just gonna handwave it lol

But basically my thought process for carbon nanotubes was like, gecko/nano tape but... more. I don't think irl gecko tape can support the weight of a grown adult woman, even a small one... (though there is some invention out there that figured out you can actually use van der waals forces to support a human being but they're real bulky)—but it's a neat idea and really what is more superheroic than partial science? and now she can still use her sticking powers without having to take her shoes off.

take that foot fetishists.

Anyway, her shoes aren't strictly climbing shoes (I don't think they're that curved) but I was looking at pics of climbing shoes for inspiration, so that's where the overall shapes and the super smooth soles are from.

(oh also it's cut off there but as I note in the drawing: Naomi's skills are mostly reconnaissance and stealth (despite her extremely vibrant colors), and anything focused on maneuverability, because while she has peak human reflexes, her strength is unimpressive and her healing ability is only mildly enhanced, like I said earlier, so she is not a very good offensive fighter.)

okay next!

Blue Tailed Day Gecko (male coloration):

I Swear To God I didn't do the red and blue on purpose, it literally didn't occur to me until after I had colored it. I just thought the male blue-tails looked cool lmao. But I think it's got enough green tones and so little red that it doesn't really evoke Spidey's red and blue anyway, especially since her visor is blue-black instead of white. So I'm not sweatin' it.

I actually really like how this one came out too. I was having some trouble with incorporating the green but I think this very soft glaucous green works really well. I could almost see this one being a like... slightly more stealth-focused suit... obviously it's still brightly colored and the arms are still pretty light, but the deep colors overall evoke a slightly more nighttime oriented feel for me.

...a blue-tailed night gecko, if you will.

Made this one a little metallic-sparkly but not as glittery as the one with the female coloration. This one has a tiny bit more inspiration from the lizard's actual markings (mostly on the helmet) but is still of course all about clean lines and good silhouettes.

The logo also ended up smaller and slightly different which, IDK why I didn't just copy-paste, but I like how it looks this way anyway so eh. They don't HAVE to be identical.

I don't really know what texture the green should be though. More glitter seems like a bit too much. In my head I'm thinking it might just be a very, very matte, soft texture but surprisingly durable. It's not like it's made of spandex so it can really be pretty much any texture. That's also why it's possible for the helmet to match the fabric color and glitter perfectly 😂 I'd feel bad for any real life costume designer who had to deal with this... lmao

mask version...

I had a terrible realization with this one because I didn't look up pictures of Spider-Woman until afterward and it turns out she has a triangle on her forehead which I had forgotten about LOL but I think it's still different enough. There's some Blue Beetle influence in there that I think helps differentiate it pretty well. Like, okay, if she was a Marvel character I would assume she was a spider-person or some weird cross between Koi Boi and Spider-Woman, but outside of Marvel... I think it's got a good vibe.

pop of contrast with the red knees again. I just think it looks nice and the kneepads let me evoke the bike short-style cut on her homemade costume without actually putting her in shorts.

Pretty similar here for soles, slightly different silhouette but that's about it. palms are the same, white and rubbery but flexible. I imagine her gloves move kind of like a second skin despite being all one piece without any seams. fuck helmet matching, i would REALLY feel bad for an irl costume designer having to make that work in live action.

Here's a better look at the actual palm btw.

and also. her fingertips. ridges from setae already weird enough but not noticeable unless someone looks close or can feel her fingers, and then... the new ability... to shoot modified hairs in the form of hollow needles with which to inject venom.

it's an awful mental image, tbh. lmao. the venom she uses is similar to that of gila monsters or beaded lizards. (not bearded)

Part 2!!!

Northern Spiny Tailed Gecko:

Okay! I'm mixed on this one tbh. lol.

I did this one kind of on a whim cause I saw a pic of one of these lizards and I thought they looked cool, though not really Naomi's like... aesthetic. So I guess this is kind of like... what if Naomi got serious... but still was Naomi LMAO she can't resist the hint of shimmer... (wait that's me.)

I like the way the mask turned out significantly more than the helmet for this one, though I like the spikes on the helmet. But the lenses specifically turned out a lot better imo. I was looking at the actual lizard's weird fucking eyes and was like, how the hell do I evoke that. And then I remembered that, even if this WASN'T made of some kind of unknown unstable molecule or nanomachines or whatever the fuck, you can put patches of different colored foil films on real life motorcycle visors and sunglasses and stuff, so that's basically what I was thinking about there. She still sees out it the same, though with I guess random dots of full spectrum color vs... orange-tinted... LOL

This suit was actually surprisingly hard to do. Turns out doing a completely monochromatic fullbody suit in any color other than black is... difficult, if you want it to actually look good. I did know I wanted it textured at least... but the rest, hard. That's why the white lines are there tbh. It just needed something for visual interest.

The G on this one is segmented/broken up instead of soft curves to fit the slightly edgier look, and also as a reference to geckos' famed ability to detach and grow back their tails. (Naomi doesn't have a tail and she can't detach her limbs but she can do the other part...!)

I gave it spikes to match the spiny appearance of the lizard... wow... so edgy... 😂 Actually it was super odd to do a costume like this in such a pale color, because normally when I do more grim costumes, they feature a lot of black and very vibrant accents like purple or red. (Though I guess the orange color of the lenses here is a bright color...)

Since I've been heavily referencing climbing shoes so much, it made sense to me to put crampons on her shoes. More spikes! I doubt they're super useful but, maybe... I mean. I'm sure they'd make a kick in the balls real killer. oh... hm. I mean obviously this is a weaponized costume, but... is this her weaponized costume? her only chance at offense as a 100 lb wallcrawler... metal spikes.

Assume they are reinforced and framed inside where it's not visible, in this magic superhero costume that doesn't need to follow the laws of tailoring. The angled knee pads are my way of doing knee spikes cause unless you got a full suit of armor that never looks good lmao. They are def hard on the outside though.

Also this whole color scheme and the white on the palms just makes me think of like... sharks... which I guess its fitting.

Anyway this costume was... interesting to work on. It was mostly an experiment, and IDK if she'll ever use it (I say this like I have a story about anyone other than Seth lmfao) because I already have several characters with white, red and black color schemes (though Tama's includes gold) so I didn't want to add yet another, but it was just such a neat looking lizard I couldn't resist.

next!

Lygodactylus williamsi aka the Electric Blue Day Gecko:

I like the color of this one... could not resist adding yet MORE glitter, though I figured the body could be one of those very, very slightly shimmery matte looking deals in contrast to the super heavy flake glitter in the helmet and mask. would film terribly. lmao.

I was briefly judging myself for giving every helmet a different visor for some reason instead of using the same one to save my hand (meanwhile i copy pasted the mask XD) especially since... Naomi is NOT the only one with a helmet (if I keep her helmets at all) but what I realized is that most of her helmets in this lineup still have similar enough visor shapes that it's pretty thematically consistent even though they're all different. I think the tree frog and the spiny gecko helmets, aka the two most experimental costumes here, are the most divergent, but they still have like... the rough overall vibe of curves and heart shapes. but this electric blue helmet fits very neatly in with the blue-tailed helmets, so I like that. I could see this one slotting very neatly in with the blue-tailed day gecko suits as a set.

Which, importantly, means I probably don't have to worry about TJ's helmet when I get to him, especially since his is going to be significantly more influenced by Power Rangers and super sentai stuff... I'll probably give him a way weirder visor shape.

Anyway, this suit was another case of monochrome making my life difficult but you know what makes everything look better? Gradients. Lmao. and more shimmers. I just like sparkles, and I liked the idea of leaning into Naomi having a consistent aesthetic as far as being colorful and sparkly, even when it's toned down. (right, "toned down," as if the helmet accompanying it isn't extremely over the top lmao)

In my head the material on her gloves and shoe soles is like... a really sticky-looking (but not—well. it is sticky but it's not wet) kind of gummy, rubbery, or like... jelly almost? but like. on an opaque base cause her hands and feet are in there. like... one of those translucent rubber ducks...

(*edit 11/1 added texture to this one as well)

Attempts Were Made...

I considered making a version based on the female coloration of this lizard, as a counterpart, but my hand hurts after spending three days on drawing superhero costumes...lol. if I do draw a counterpart like that, I think it would be a mix of rose gold/copper and a shimmery iridescent gold-green, I think... either a front-to-back gradient or with side panels. or even like... almost like those tinted holographic fabrics...

anyway

Red Eyed Tree Frog:

Okay this isn't a gecko but it occurred to me while I was taking a break yesterday and it sounded fun... It's not technically on theme since her vigilante/hero/whatever name is literally Geckonyx lmao but it is on theme in that she probably likes frogs, aside from obviously being a wallcrawler.

Also when I realized I could make her helmet for this one look like an alien... bro. how could i RESIST?! I think this is by far the cutest helmet I have drawn, ever.

Unlike the other costumes, but similarly to the electric blue costume, this one has the back and front of the hand all the same material (does that mean she can stick with the backs of her knuckles in this suit???)

As far as styling goes, this one was very straightforward since it's pretty obviously literally just the exact pattern on a red eyed tree frog (well, plus the rubber G) lol — this is also the One where I started to figure out her mask, and that's because frogs have big round eyes. I copy pasted the mask from this one to all the others lol.

also came very close to looking like Seahawks colors (lol) but thankfully the cool base I used for the metallic blue drew it away from that a little, on top of being a little lighter than the navy they use. (plus the blood orange/scarlet accents)

rubbery texture on the shoes again for sure... not so sure about the green though... like is it also rubbery... like un-laminated neoprene?? pleathery/leather-like texture? idk. not shiny spandex, i know that much.

texture: skin?

ANYWAY

That's it!! IDK why I felt the need to design four extra suits for Naomi on top of her upgrade, but it's fun to think about all the gecko colors... who knows, maybe she needs a variety... every wallcrawler needs a stealth suit. and. a bunch of other ones. duh.

UPDATE: realized I still need the full gloves for certain situations—luckily, when I did the fingerless gloves, I just drew fingers on top of the full gloves in a separate folder, so i still have all of them lol.

Considering the lizard theming there is something strangely fitting about Naomi being able to switch between helmet and mask, full glove and fingerless glove, all as needed. Something chameleonic, if you will.

#scratchverse #nadiart #not fanart #arghdesign #shiny art #superhero oc #my hand hurts 😅#geckonyx #naomi ishii

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whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

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( this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky x you #BOY OH BOY THE FORMATTING I WANNA SCREAM

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 3 years ago

Text

Stalker (Ending A) (L.MH)

Warnings : swearing, mentions of one night stands, partying, alcohol

Word Count : 6210

Synopsis : he saw her everywhere he was, so the only logical conclusion is that she’s stalking him. he finally had enough and confronted her, but she had no idea who hyunjin was. he refused to listen to her until lee minho came to her rescue, effectively shutting hyunjin up. it was a small lie that made him face feelings he didn’t expect, and began a love triangle no one thought possible. but little did they know, she only had eyes for her best friend.

Author’s Note : i’m back! and while i was gone, i wrote a lot of new imagines. figured i’d start posting again, starting with this hyunjin/minho imagine. hyunjin’s ending will be up tomorrow!

He had never seen her before, but suddenly she was everywhere. Every party, every café, absolutely everywhere, and Hyunjin couldn’t help but think she was stalking him. What other explanation could there be to her being at every place she was at?

At first, he thought it was adorable. He saw her as an adoring fan just working up the courage to talk to him. But when he spotted her across the room with her phone up, seemingly taking pictures of her, he had enough. He stormed over to her, slamming his half full cup on a nearby table before grabbing her phone from her hands, causing her to look up at him with a look of annoyance. “Give it back.”

“Stop taking pictures of me! Stop stalking me! I’m tired of seeing your face everywhere.” He yelled, holding her phone up in the air so she couldn’t reach it. She crossed her arms across her chest as her brows furrowed together, confused as to why this stranger would think she was following him.

“There’s got to be a misunderstanding.” She tried to explain, but he interrupted her, telling her not to make excuses, saying he had caught her red-handed taking pictures of him. “Look at my phone, dude.” He brought it closer to her face, seeing that the camera was not open, but a text conversation was, the last text sent asking where this person was.

Before either one of them could say anything else, someone draped their arm across her shoulders, causing both of them to meet the eyes of Lee Minho, leader of the dance team. “Is there an issue?” Minho asked, pulling the girl closer to his body. She was too much in shock at the situation to push herself away from him.

“Yes. This girl is stalking me!” Hyunjin exclaimed, earning an eye roll from the girl tucked into Minho’s side.

“You mean my girlfriend?” The crowd that was beginning to gather gasped at the new information, whispers quickly erupting from the crowd. “I can assure you she isn’t stalking you, Hyunjin. Babe, are you stalking Hyunjin?” His attention moved from Hyunjin to the girl he claimed was his girlfriend.

“I don’t even know who he is if I’m honest.” She shrugged, looking from Minho to Hyunjin, who now seemed embarrassed by the amount of people surrounding them. “Can I have my phone back now?” Hyunjin slowly slid the phone into her open hand, quietly apologizing to the mystery girl, the girl apparently dating Minho, a man he looks up to. “You didn’t have to do that.” She told Minho after Hyunjin walked away and the crowd dispersed, enjoying the party.

“Hyunjin’s a dick, he deserved to be put in his place. He thinks he’s all that and that girls fall at his feet; this was a well-deserved reality check.” Minho smiled. “I’m guessing you were looking for a friend?” She nodded, looking to see if Jisung had responded to her text to no avail.

“Looks like he’s probably wrapped up with something else.” She mumbled hoping Minho wouldn’t hear, but he did.

“Looks like I’m your company for the night.” He smiled as he pulled her towards the kitchen where the drinks were laid out on the counter. “Pick your poison.” He joked. His smile was intoxicating to her, almost addictive and she didn’t want to look away. She had heard of the infamous dance team leader, Lee Minho, but their paths never crossed before tonight. And she could see why he was so popular.

He was handsome in a way she’d never seen before. He looked like the kind of guy that was cold and aloof, but when he smiled at her, her heart felt safe. Like she could share her deepest secrets with him, and he would take them to the grave, not uttering a word of them to anyone.

She was addicted to the scent wafting off of him into her nose, a very natural and clean scent, different than other guys with their overwhelming cologne. As the two talked the whole night, she found herself not wanting to leave, now understanding how all the girls easily fall for his charms.

He was notorious around the university for being charming without even trying; girls flocking towards him, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. But he was standing in front of her, all of his attention on her, his eyes not leaving her, not even when people around them were calling his name. He was intrigued by this girl he had never seen before and wanted to learn more.

Minho wanted to learn everything about this mystery girl, but he didn’t know why. He wanted to learn her likes and dislikes. Her pet peeves and things she does when she feels stressed. Does she have any pets? What are her parents like? What’s her major? There were so many things to learn, but a party didn’t seem like the right place to ask hard hitting questions. He wanted to spend as long as he could in her presence, learning about her, but even eternity didn’t seem like long enough.

He wasn’t sure what came over him; no other girl ever made him feel like this. None of his ex-girlfriends made him this curious. Was it the way she didn’t fall at Hyunjin’s feet like every other girl at this school? Maybe it was the way she laughed at all his jokes, even the bad ones. The way her lips upturned as her smiled widened before her mouth opened, letting out a laugh that Minho could listen to for years and not get tired of.

She was confident in the way she carried herself, but not in a cocky way. She held eye contact as they spoke, not shying away when he complimented her. It was like she knew she was beautiful and didn’t need anyone to tell her. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he pretended it wasn’t and tried to hold conversation as normal. Is this what the people call love at first sight?

Before either of them knew it, the music was turned off. The house that was once filled with people, was near empty as a few drunk stragglers stayed behind, waiting for someone to help them home. “Oh wow, is it 4 in the morning already?” Minho asked, looking down at his phone that was apparently blowing up the entire time he was with Y/N, and he had no idea. He was so entranced by her beauty he didn’t feel the vibrations coming from his pocket. “Let me take you home.” She quickly agreed, loving the idea of spending more time with him. He placed his hand on her lower back as he led her out of the house and to his car parked down the street.

The two made conversation the entire drive, they didn’t even realize there was no music playing. Not even a second of silence was shared between them as their connection seemed to grow stronger. “Thank you.” She told him as they pulled up to her apartment building.

“Can I get your number? I’d really like to see you again.” She smiled, holding out her hand for his phone that he happily handed over.

“I suppose it’s the least I could do seeing as we’re apparently dating.” For what seemed like the millionth time that night, a blush crept up onto his cheeks as he took his phone back. “I hope to see you soon, Minho.” With that, she left his car and headed up to her apartment.

Had her heart not already belonged to her best friend, Han Jisung, she would have kissed him. She was hardly ever one to sit idly by and allow her feelings to go unsaid, except when it came to Han Jisung, school playboy.

Just as Minho was notorious, Jisung was as well. Jisung was a womanizer, and he loved it. Y/N was there whenever he needed help getting away from a one-night stand who wanted more. In fact, that’s why she was everywhere Hyunjin seemed to be. Jisung would invite her to parties he was invited to so she was close in case he needed her. He would call her to cafes he invited the women to if they weren’t gone when he woke up, seemingly as a nice gesture. But Y/N would be there to act like the jealous, angry girlfriend, either scaring off the girl or dragging Jisung out and effectively getting him away.

If Hyunjin paid more attention, he would see that she never noticed him. Her eyes were trained on the door, looking for the one man that gave her butterflies. He would notice the tears in her eyes as she once again acted like a girlfriend catching her boyfriend cheating. He would see how her face lit up when Jisung’s attention was trained on her instead of someone else. How her cheeks would turn a pretty pink colour when he would wrap his arms around her. If Hyunjin just paid a little more attention, he would see that she only ever had eyes for Han Jisung.

She woke up the next morning when her phone rang with Jisung’s familiar ringtone. “Regular café.” Was all he said before he hung up. She begrudgingly got herself out of bed, throwing on a simple outfit and making herself look presentable. If only her heart didn’t belong to Han Jisung, maybe she could tell him no.

She sat at her regular table, looking at her phone and glancing at the door every time the bell above it chimed. Tears pricked her eyes when Jisung walked in, his arm draped across the beautiful girls shoulders, his famous smile dancing across his lips. She watched from her spot as they got into the growing lineup, talking about something. She was so focused on the two of them, she didn’t notice her phone going off in her hands until it was too late and the call went to voicemail.

She waited until Jisung and the girl sat at a table before making her move. She stormed over to their table, her iced coffee in hand. Jisung’s eyes widened when he saw her, playing the part of a boyfriend just caught cheating. “Who are you?” She asked, allowing her voice to crack just enough to make her seem heartbroken. The girl looked between her and Jisung, confused as to what was going on. “I’m asking who you are! What are you doing with my boyfriend?” She tried to keep her voice low and even, not wanting to disturb other peoples day with her fake drama.

“Oh my god, I had no idea!” The girls eyes widened as she stood from the table, her hands up in surrender. “I swear I thought he was single. Jisung, you need to treat your girlfriend better!” She turned her attention to the man at the table. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better.” With that, the girl took her leave, allowing Y/N to sit at the table and Jisung to relax.

“You’re seriously the best friend ever.” She was silent as she nodded, staring at the text on her phone from Minho. “So I heard you’re dating Minho? Think he’d be okay that you act like my girlfriend sometimes?” Jisung chuckled, trying to lighten the sour mood.

“I’m not a huge fan.” Jisung spun around in his chair, his eyes meeting Minho’s. She smiled when she saw him, ushering him to join them.

“It’s nothing major, dude. She just says she’s my girlfriend to shake off one-night stands that want more. You know how it is.” Jisung shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee.

“No, I don’t know how it is.” Minho’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Jisung, not liking this guy one bit. He hated this guy more than he disliked Hyunjin. Minho had never met a more appalling human being. He could see the heartbreak written all over her face, knowing her feelings for Jisung were more than platonic. Jisung had this beautiful, kind-hearted girl right in front of him, ready to give him the world, and he treated her like trash. Yet she stayed by his side, bending to his every whim. “Hope you don’t mind if I steal her for the rest of the day though. We have plans.” She happily stood from the table and followed Minho outside, not even waiting for Jisung’s answer.

He wanted to get her out of there, away from the man who seemed to break her heart more and more everyday. “Looks like you’re my knight in shining armour once again.” She smiled as the two fell into a similar rhythm as they walked beside each other. He didn’t want to be her knight in shining armour, he wanted to be her prince. He wanted to be the one that made her excited for the day ahead. “How can I repay you?” Silence fell over them when she asked that question. Minho stopped dead in his tracks and grabbed her hand, pulling her close to him.

“Date me.” He said. “Pretend to be my girlfriend for three months to make it believable. I’ll help you get over Han Jisung.” She didn’t even question how he knew, knowing they had a connection that was undeniable ever since they met last night.

“What would you get out of it?” She giggled, wondering why a man who was still practically a stranger would want to help her with a task that seemed impossible.

“I’d get to bring you to the dance studio to annoy Hyunjin.” He made up a lie on the spot, knowing that just getting to call her his girlfriend would be enough for him. The satisfaction of helping her heal her heart would absolutely be enough for him.

She didn’t even have to think about it and agreed almost immediately. Maybe Minho is exactly what she needs to move passed these unrequited feelings she’s had since high school.

They just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, absolutely entranced by the other’s beauty, and without realizing it, they both were leaning in. Their lips met in the middle in a feverish kiss filled with passion and lust. He put everything he could in the kiss, hoping to silently show her his true feelings. She melted into the kiss, knowing now for certain that Lee Minho is exactly what she needed.

As promised, Minho invited her to the dance studio a few days later. She decided to pick up food on the way, knowing everyone would be hungry after practice. She made her way through the maze of dance studios in the performing arts building, bags of food in her hands and an excited smile on her face. Quietly, she opened the door, Minho immediately noticing her and stopping whatever he was doing. The other dancers turned to see what caught their leaders attention. Hyunjin rolled his eyes when he saw her, annoyed that she was officially showing up absolutely everywhere he went, the dance studio no longer an escape.

Minho walked towards her, taking the bags from her hands, and pressing a quick kiss to her lips and ushering her to the front of the room where he was standing previously. “Let’s take a quick break to eat the food my girlfriend brought for us.”

They all sat in a circle, joking, and eating. Minho could barely keep his eyes off of her. She would meet his eyes every so often, only looking away to give attention to whoever was talking.

But if they paid closer attention, they would notice another set of eyes that couldn’t seem to look away from her. Hyunjin wondered what seemed different about her today that seemed to draw him in so much. Maybe it was the obvious kindness she possessed, buying the entire team food without ever meeting them before. Maybe it was the way she seemed to glow unlike the dull lifelessness she showed the other times he noticed her. Her smile was wide and her eyes seemed to sparkle, as if someone put stars in her eyes. She possessed a beauty he hadn’t noticed before, and he could feel the jealousy build in his chest every time she looked at Minho the way he wanted her to look at him.

Hyunjin found himself wanting to get closer to her, but he did his best to hide it. He laughed at the stories she told them, their eyes meeting for a brief second each time. And when the food was eaten and it was time to go over the routine one more time, he found himself putting his all into impressing her. Minho was the leader, but Hyunjin wanted to be the center of attention, the center of her attention.

She was amazed at the beautiful choreography that Minho put together, but her eyes seemed to drift towards Hyunjin. He seemed completely entranced in the music and his body moved as if it was a liquid. It was impossible to look away from Hyunjin when he danced; he looked so ethereal and she could finally see why so many girls begged for his attention. She would too had her heart not belonged to Jisung.

“Amazing.” She exclaimed with a wide smile, and Minho wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Hyunjin wished that was him. He watched from afar as she went on and on about the choreography, saying that Minho did such a great job. “Everyone did incredible!” She clapped her hands together, everyone’s attention now on her as they thanked her for not only her kind words, but the food she brought earlier.

“I hope she comes around more! I like her company, hyung.” Another one of the members, Felix, exclaimed with a smile that seemed to mirror hers.

“If no one minds, I’m sure she’ll come to more practices.” Minho beamed; his arm now draped across her shoulders. Flashbacks of the party came to Hyunjin’s mind, and he felt embarrassed all over again.

She snuck away from Minho while he was caught up in a conversation with a couple of the guys from the team. “You were really amazing, Hyunjin.” He was slightly startled when he heard her voice. “You looked absolutely ethereal and so in your element, it was hard to look away.” She admitted, her eyes not leaving his. He saw the confidence she carried herself with that made Minho fall for her so easily.

“Thank you.” His gratitude was sincere, and she could tell by the way his cheeks burned red. “I’m really sorry about what I said at the party.” She shook her head.

“The past is the past, don’t worry about it.” He could see why she was the girl Minho let his guard down too. She was the kind of girl you don’t encounter twice in a lifetime. She was the kind of girl you hold on to and hope she doesn’t let go. Hyunjin could tell families must adore her and wish for her as a daughter-in-law. And he wondered once again how he had never seen her before. She was the kind of girl that stood out in a crowd, not because she was the most beautiful, but because she had a glow to her that seemed to have a magnetic pull.

“I’ll see you around.” He didn’t want to walk away, but he would do something he would regret if he didn’t. Hyunjin wasn’t a homewrecker, even if it meant losing the perfect girl.

“Ready to go?” Minho asked as Hyunjin walked away. She smiled up at him, nodding. If he could, Minho would buy the world and gift it to her, that’s how much he had fallen for her in such a short amount of time.

Once again she found herself sitting at her regular table at the regular café, her eyes trained on the door, waiting for Jisung to walk through with whatever girl he was with this time. She didn’t feel as heartbroken as she did before, this last month with Minho helping more than she thought possible. Honestly, she felt more annoyed than anything. It was like Jisung didn’t call to hang out anymore, only to request her assistance. She wondered where the sweet and loveable Jisung from high school disappeared to, and who this fuckboy was that replaced him.

As she waited, she didn’t notice Hyunjin watching her from afar, wondering who she was waiting for with such an angry look on her face. He could see her biting her lip as her leg bounced, and he knew it wasn’t Minho. She was never anxious like this around Minho. He seemed to bring out the best in her. He noticed her glow was once again dull, and his curiosity was growing as each second passed.

When the bell chimed and her leg stopped bouncing, he looked towards the door to see the infamous Han Jisung. Was she waiting for him? What was her business with the fuckboy of campus? He watched as she watched Jisung sit down across from another girl, and she stood to make her way to him. Hyunjin stood as well, grabbing her by the wrist before she could approach the table Jisung sat at. “What are you doing?” He asked, concern in his eyes.

“Something I always do.” She replied, snatching her wrist back and approaching Jisung. Hyunjin watched from afar, ready to jump in if anything were to go wrong.

Since the campus knew of her and Minho’s relationship, she had to take a new approach: the annoying best friend. “Who’s this?” The girl asked as Y/N took a seat beside Jisung, Jisung immediately wrapping his arms around her.

“My best friend. You don’t mind if she joins us, right?” Of course the girl agreed, not wanting Jisung to have a bad impression of her, in hopes she could be the girl that changes him.

It only took 10 minutes of the two of them completely ignoring her, talking, and laughing with each other as if she wasn’t even there, for her to leave. “You’re the best.” Jisung said as he usually did. “I’ve missed you.” Her heart no longer fluttered at his words.

“I tried calling, you never picked up.” Jisung’s heart broke at the obvious distance she was putting between them. He knew it was his fault. He was pushing her away, hoping his growing feelings would disappear, but they only seemed to grow stronger. None of these girls seemed to compare to the girl he had right in front of him all this time, and he hates that it took him so long to realize that. He hates that another man noticed it before he did and she slipped through his fingers before he even realized she was leaving.

“I’ll be better, I promise. You’re my best friend, I can’t lose you.” She nodded. From his spot, Hyunjin could tell she wanted to disappear and he decided to give her an out.

“Hey Y/N, you coming to practice today?” She met Hyunjin’s eyes, and the sparkle he was used to seeing seemed to reappear in an instant, causing butterflies to erupt in his stomach.

“Of course!” She exclaimed with her heart-stopping smile, and Hyunjin could see the anger and jealousy bubbling up in Jisung.

“Want to grab something to eat from the diner from last time before practice?” She slung her purse over her shoulder and stood from the table, agreeing with the notion of food.

“You don’t need anything else from me, right Sungie?” The nickname she gave to him in high school rolled off her tongue before she could stop it. Little did she know the effect that simple name had on Jisung.

“Nope, go have fun. I’ll call you later.” Jealously bubbled inside Jisung as he watched her walk away with Hyunjin, his arm draped across her shoulders. He put distance between the two of them, and she seemed to replace him. They used to spend all day together and never get bored; their stomachs aching from all the laughter. Everything seemed to change overnight, and she was really slipping through his fingers.

“Usually Minho is the one to save me.” She joked as her and Hyunjin walked towards the diner the two of them went to the previous week. Ever since that first practice she attended, the two of them grew closer and she seemed to spend more time with him than Minho.

“How do you even know Han Jisung?” Hyunjin asked, the curiosity eating at him. She smiled at the memories of her and Jisung in high school. Back when she thought there was a possibility of her feelings being reciprocated, but when they got to university, Jisung seemed to do a compete 180 and became a different person.

“We met in high school and immediately became best friends. He wasn’t always like this.” Without prompting, she delved into the memories with Jisung. How he used to be really introverted and nervous around girls. How he was the kind of guy to show up at her house in the middle of night because she was sad. How he was the kind of guy to remember all the small details and surprise her with gifts that were absolutely perfect. He knew her better than she knew herself, and that’s why she fell for him. That’s why she bent over backwards for him.

Until Minho came along and showed her she deserved more. She deserved the kind of guy Jisung used to be, the kind of guy Minho is. She deserved someone who looks at her like she put the stars in the sky and was the reason the sun rose in the morning. She deserved someone who could see her radiance, someone who saw passed her outward beauty and saw the beauty she held within. Someone like Minho. Someone like Hyunjin.

Without realizing it, both Minho and Hyunjin fell for her. Without realizing it, she got over her feelings for Jisung, and began to fall for the two handsome men by her side. A love triangle no one expected.

As the 3-month mark inched closer, Minho felt nervous. He fell harder for her than he originally thought possible and didn’t want to let her go. He could already feel her slipping through his fingers as she spent nearly everyday with Hyunjin. The two of them got close seemingly overnight, and Minho could feel himself on the verge of exploding in anger and jealousy every time he saw them together.

She seemed to smile more and laugh louder with Hyunjin than she ever did with him. The man who claimed he didn’t like skin ship, the man who barely hugged his friends, was the same man who seemed to always be touching her in some way. His arm draped across her shoulders, his arms wrapped around her waist, his arm resting on her leg when they sat beside each other. And she didn’t seem to mind. She seemed to revel in the fact that Hyunjin’s attention was solely on her, barely noticing that she’s the only girl Minho has looked at since the party.

The 3-month mark inched closer with each passing second, and she found herself hoping it would never end. Where would her and Minho stand after this? Would he stay by her side or abandon her saying he did what he told her he would?

A part of her wanted to tell Minho she wanted to continue being with him, that she didn’t want to lose everything they built over these last couple months. But another part of her was also falling for Hyunjin. He was nothing like the man that confronted her at the party. He wasn’t the man in the rumours she was always hearing. Hwang Hyunjin was so much more.

She thought getting over Jisung would make her life easier. She could stick by his side and pretend like she never wished for anything more than friendship. She could watch him be a fuckboy and maybe one day fall in love without feeling the hurt in her chest. Little did she know the price of moving on was the confusion of falling for 2 men at the exact same time. But she fell for them for different reasons.

Lee Minho was very driven; completely focused on accomplishing his dreams. She thought he was the most handsome as he came up with new choreography. He was so focused on making it flow together and easy for the other follow along that he would barely notice her make her way into the studio, watching from afar as he moved to the music, completely immersed.

But when he would finally notice her, he would smile at her, his cold exterior completely shattering as he pulls her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head. He would ask for her opinion on his new dance, truly interested in what she thought despite her not being a dancer. Her opinion meant more to him than any others.

She loved watching him lead the dance team, helping them when he noticed them struggling, and beaming when they would nail the new choreography as if he was a proud father. She loved that he wasn’t afraid to show them how much he loved her, regardless of their relationship being fake. He would hold her and kiss her in front of the members and it gave her butterflies every single time.

But when it’s just the two of them and he’s open and vulnerable, that’s what she loves the most. His head in her lap as she plays with his hair while he talks about his dreams and his fears. She listens carefully, hanging onto his every word and reassuring him best she can. Little does she know; her words help him more than he would ever admit.

She fell for him with every kiss, every touch, every late night spent talking. He was only meant to help her get over her feelings for Jisung, and he did more than that without even realizing it.

And then there was Hwang Hyunjin; a man she never thought she would fall for. She didn’t want to be just another girl falling at his feet. She didn’t want to be just another fan standing in the crowd hoping he would look her way even once. But along the way, she couldn’t help but fall for him.

Just like Minho, Hyunjin was quite driven and focused on accomplishing his dreams. Dance was his passion and she could tell he was completely in his element while on the dance floor. He could take any choreography that Minho gave him and nail it almost immediately, looking absolutely ethereal while doing it.

But he was the most handsome behind the camera. Photography was a hobby she found out he had when she brought him along for a photography walk. He was beaming when she met up with him, his own camera around his neck, ready to snap pictures. The way his face would change from smiley to completely focused made her heart flutter in ways Minho couldn’t.

She felt comfortable with Hyunjin, able to open up to him about things she couldn’t even tell Jisung. Hyunjin was at her door anytime if she called. He was there to take her for late night drives when she just needed to think with no distractions. He would play her favourite songs and only speak when she pulled herself out of her thoughts.

Hyunjin was her personal hype man, getting excited even over little victories. When she aced her photography exam, he took her out to celebrate. When her assignment was chosen to compete for the school in the photography competition, his cheers were the loudest. When that same assignment won first place, shocking her into silence, he was the one pushing her towards the stage to accept her award, cheering and clapping even though everyone else was silent.

She fell for him during the silent drives when her head felt like it was about to explode, during the photography walks where she would catch him taking pictures of her instead of the scenery.

Minho gave her butterflies and made her realize she deserved so much more than Jisung was giving her. And Hyunjin made her feel calm and was by her side hyping her up for absolutely everything. They made her feel different things, and that’s why it felt near impossible to choose, but she knew she had to. But there was one thing she didn’t think of; did they even return her feelings?

“What do you do when you fall for 2 people at the same time?” She wondered out loud, Jisung sprawled out on her couch. He stared at her, studying the exhaustion on her face, this question obviously keeping her from sleeping properly.

He kept his promise of doing better, of being a better friend to her. He was tired of the distance between them, and even if she would never return his growing feelings, he wanted his best friend back. “You choose the one that makes you the happiest.” He answered simply before tossing another piece of popcorn in his mouth. “Choose the one you want to call when you get good news, and when you get bad news.” He continued, and the gears in her head were working double time. “Choose the one you feel most comfortable with, the one who makes you excited for the days ahead. Choose the one that all the love songs in the world seem to be about. The one you can see yourself dancing in the rain with. The one you can scream at during a petty argument, but in the same breath say you love them.” Jisung continued to name things and he did he realized he had always been in love with her.

She was the one he wanted to wake up to in the morning, kissing her before getting ready for the day. She was the one he always called when something happened, good or bad, and she was always there. The meaningless, cheesy love songs seemed to all be about her. He was immediately drawn to her in high school because she was his soulmate. But as he watched her ponder his words, he realized that he wasn’t hers. There was another man out there better than he ever could be. Another man that would make her happier than he ever could. And though he could feel his heart break, he would support her love if it brought back her earth-shatteringly beautiful smile.

One name came to mind for her when she thought over all of Jisung’s words. The man that came to mind when a love song played. The man that she wanted to share everything with; all the good news and the bad news. There was only one man she didn’t want to watch fall in love with someone else. And before she could chicken out, she ran out of her apartment, leaving Jisung on her couch, watching her run towards the love of her life.

She knew exactly where to find him even at this late hour. She ran through the confusing maze of dance studios, determined to hold onto Lee Minho for as long as he will let her. She barged into the familiar dance studio; the same one she’s been going to almost every day to watch her fake boyfriend lead the dance team to success. But was the relationship ever fake?

Minho stopped mid routine when he heard the door slam open, confused as to who would bother him at such a late hour, especially with finals just around the corner. But when he saw her face, he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he couldn’t nail this one move that would complete his routine.

“I don’t want to break up.” She spat out from the other side of the room, her voice echoing around them. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and not be able to kiss you. I don’t want to watch you fall in love with someone who isn’t me.” She kept rambling, wanting all of her thoughts out in the open. She didn’t even notice him walking towards her with the same amount of determination on his face.

He didn’t let her finish her ramblings before pressing his lips to hers like had done many times before, but this time neither one of them held back. This kiss was filled with so much more passion and love than all the others in the past. This was the kind of kiss that took your breath away and had you begging for more. “Silly girl.” He smiled as he pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers. “There is no other girl for me. It was always going to be you.” She pressed her lips to his once more, the words I love you on the tip of her tongue, but they didn’t need to be said out loud for him to hear them. He heard them loud and clear.

#stray kids imagine #skz imagine #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee minho #lee minho imagine #lee minho x reader #lee minho au #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin imagine #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #bang chan #seo changbin

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

That’s what Derek would like to say.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski and his stupid face, his stupid smile, and the stupid way that Derek would always see him in the hallways and that bright look in his eyes always made him stumble. Fucking Stiles Stilinski and the way that Derek couldn’t get him out of his head for some reason.

For some stupid, unbelievable reason.

Cora thought it was hilarious. Derek thought it was the most annoying thing ever.

Stiles was the most annoying thing ever.

“Hale!”

Derek nearly stumbled over his own feet at Coach’s shout, turning around to see a basketball sailing right toward his face. Eyes rounding, he barely had the chance to duck as laughter filled the air and he glared across the gym— where all the cheerleaders stood in their little group, Stiles right splat in the middle.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

“I said, Hale!”

Growling, Derek turned back around as Coach stalked toward him. Derek’s older sister used to tell him that Coach’s bite was worse than his bark, but Derek had come to realize that was utter bull. If there was one thing BHHS’s basketball coach was good at, it was yelling.

“Where the hell is your head, Hale?” Coach shouted, jabbing him on the forehead. Derek swallowed another growl and let the man poke away, knowing better than to ever avidly seek out Coach’s wrath. “You’re living in a daydream today!”

“Sorry, Coach,” Derek mumbled, dropping his gaze. The sound of laughter was still in the air, though, and his eyes snapped back up unconsciously, over Coach’s shoulder as he took in Stiles’s bright and grinning face.

He was always grinning and that bothered Derek like nothing else. The way his eyes would dance, his laughter would make Derek’s heart skip a beat, and— and—

“Hale!”

Derek blinked at the shout right in his ear, feeling like he’d just been dunked into cold water. Coach was scowling now and Derek felt his face turn redder, wishing he could be anywhere else but practice at the moment. “Uh, right. Sorry, Coach.”

“Yeah, kid, you’ve said that already. Are you feeling alright today?”

“I’m fine,” Derek said, forcing himself not to look back over at where Stiles was. “Really.”

“Good,” Coach said. “Because if you miss the game this week, I’m taking you off the starting lineup for the rest of the season.”

Derek looked back at the man in alarm, but Coach just raised his hands, turning away.

“Don’t force my hand, Hale.”

Derek watched him walk away and then despite himself, despite everything, glanced over his shoulder. Most of the cheerleaders had lost interest at this point— except for Stiles. Stiles, who was still staring at him, that crooked smile still hanging on his lips. And the moment his eyes met Derek’s, something in his expression changed. He grinned wider, raised a hand, and Derek quickly turned back around.

He wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t… ugh.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

“I don’t know why, man,” Stiles said, slamming his locker shut. “But the guy hates me. You should’ve seen him at practice yesterday.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Scott said, shrugging on his backpack. Stiles shot him a disbelieving look and the boy shrugged, starting down the hall with Stiles at his side. “I just don’t think he knows you. I mean, you guys never even talk, right?”

Stiles glowered. “I was his chemistry partner last semester and I’ve been on the cheerleading team since I was a freshman. He should know me well enough to at least smile back when I wave hi.”

“He just ignored you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I dunno, dude. He gets all weird, clams up, and then pretends like I don’t exist.”

Scott gave him a curious look, but Stiles wasn’t paying his friend any attention anymore. Speaking of the devil, he eyed Derek as they passed him and a few of his buddies gathered around their lockers. And for a moment— one brief, making Stiles’s stomach clench moment— grey-green eyes met his own.

But then Hale’s face tightened, his eyes snapped away, and he slammed his locker so hard, all of his buddies jumped.

Stiles rolled his eyes, walking faster past. “See what I mean?”

Scott was still giving him a strange look. But Stiles only half-noticed it, forcing himself not to glance over his shoulder as the sounds of the jocks' voices faded. Glaring down at the floor, he wondered what the hell was so wrong with him. Or maybe what the hell was so wrong with Derek Hale.

So Stiles might have been crushing on him for three years now. So what? It wasn’t like it actually mattered judging by the fact that Hale had never even really acknowledged his existence anyway.

“Whatever,” Stiles said. “Screw Derek Hale.”

“Sure, man,” Scott said, shaking his head. And honestly, Stiles thought he was holding something back. But did he care? Absolutely not. Stiles had no cares in the world.

Especially not about Derek Hale.

“I’m just saying,” Erica said, readjusting her uniform and dabbing at her glossed lips. “If you like him so much, you should consider talking to him once in a while.”

Derek pulled a face, making Boyd snort at the girl’s side, one arm wrapped around her waist. The rest of the cafeteria was far too loud around them and he was trying to concentrate on the chemistry homework that he had definitely not done. Back when Stiles had been his partner, Derek had actually been driven to get it done, if only to impress the boy. Not like it’d ever worked, he didn’t think.

He didn’t really know how the hell to impress Stiles Stilinski.

“I don’t like him,” Derek growled, ignoring Isaac’s disbelieving scoff. “I just think he has no right being so loud and what the hell is up with the outfit?”

Erica shot him an obvious look, gesturing down at her own, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Isaac asked mildly, attention fixed on the orange he was trying and failing to peel. “Or is it because whenever you catch the sight of Stilinski in a crop top on the court, you trip over your own feet and lose the ball?”

Derek shot him an annoyed look. Isaac wasn’t even paying attention.

“He’s right,” Erica said, smirking wickedly. “But if you’d like, Der, I can put in a good word. Stiles is my Batman and he sure could use his own Clark Kent.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, whatever,” the girl shrugged. “Just tell me if you change your mind.”

Derek glowered even more, gaze still drifting across the cafeteria. Totally not toward the table where Stiles sat surrounded by his friends, Scott’s arm slung over his shoulders in a way that definitely didn’t make Derek frown.

“Whipped,” Erica snorted across from him. Derek turned the weight of his glare toward her, trying to wipe at least some of that knowing smirk from her lips.

It didn’t work.

If Stiles was sure of one thing, it was that Mr. Harris hated him.

It wasn’t like chemistry was his least favorite class or anything— or at least, it didn’t use to be. But he was pretty sure Mr. Harris hated him with all his heart and soul, and that had kind of soured the class for Stiles as the year went on.

Which was why when the man stuck them with some lame-ass book assignment and proceeded to get on his phone, acting like none of his students existed, Stiles shot Scott a grin and held out his hand, making a grabby gesture.

“How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

Scott gave him a wide-eyed look, which only made Stiles grin wider.

“Cause I swear, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t,” Scott said, eyes darting nervously to where Harris sat. “He’ll have you in detention for the rest of the year.”

“It’s almost over anyway,” Stiles said, still grinning. “And he can’t give me detention if I accidentally ‘fall’ now can he? Twenty bucks and I’ll make him forget all about this stupid time filler assignment, easy peasy.”

“Stiles—”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

Stiles turned around, blinking in surprise at Erica Reyes. She smirked, nodding toward Harris.

“But you have to do it so hard, he falls out of his chair.”

Stiles looked at her for a long moment, debating. At the desk beside her, Boyd shifted a little nervously, but didn’t say anything to talk his girlfriend down. Chewing on his lower lip, Stiles thought for one more moment, then grinned brightly, holding out his hand.

“Deal.”

“Money after,” Erica said, eyes glinting. “But he has to be out of his chair, Stilinski.”

Scott was still giving him a pleading look, but Stiles pretended like he didn’t see it as he turned back around. Harris was still fixated on his phone, feet propped up on his desk. Stiles studied the man, tilted his head, and then shoved himself up so fast, his chair went tipping and he caught the underside of the table, taking it with him as everything went spilling to the floor.

There was a shout, a yelp. Stiles watched in absolute glee as Harris jerked so hard, he kicked his coffee cup off his desk and his chair tumbled backward, taking the man and the cord of his laptop, wrapped around his foot, with him.

For a moment, the classroom was silent. Stiles glanced back at Erica, who looked like she was just barely containing a fit of laughter.

Then, “Stilinski!”

Stiles winced, shooting Erica one last look. Her face was bright red now. “Twenty bucks, Reyes.”

“Derek will cover me,” Erica said, jerking her head to the table across the room. Stiles looked over, startled, to see Hale looking at him with wide green eyes, face a little pale.

Stiles offered a weak smile, raising a hand in a small wave. And then the boy was looking sharply away.

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to feel insulted before Harris had grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him from the room.

Stiles did, after all, get Friday afternoon detention for the next month, despite his protests that the whole ‘table flipping accident’ was really an accident. He supposed it was worth it though; twenty bucks was a two or three milkshakes at his favorite diner if he didn’t get fries.

“I can’t believe you, dude,” Scott said, elbowing him in the side. “That was so stupid.”

“That was so genius,” Stiles said, elbowing him back. “Harris completely forgot about the assignment and I’m up twenty bucks.”

The boy just grilled his eyes. “From Derek?”

The grin slipped off of Stiles’s lips. In all of the excitement, he'd completely forgotten about Erica absolutely screwing him over. Catching his expression, Scott barked a laugh, patting him on the back and starting away.

“Best of luck with that, man.”

“Hey, wait! Scotty? Scott!”

The thing about Derek Hale is that Stiles wasn’t really intimidated by him, per-say. Sure, the guy was a year older, constantly gave him the cold shoulder, and was always surrounded by his ‘too cool for school’ jock buddies. But Stiles was also pretty sure Derek was a bit of a nerd. Even if it was just secretly so.

He’d probably been the best chemistry partner Stiles had ever had. Even if he’d pretended like Stiles didn’t exist the entire time.

He sought him out before the game, heart thudding against his chest in a way that Stiles didn’t really understand. It was hard enough separating Derek Hale from his buddies, but his sister also stuck to his side— and she was intimidating.

Cora was Stiles’s grade and, like him, a few classes ahead. She also scared the crap out of Stiles whenever those eyes lit up with anything close to mischief.

“Good afternoon, Stilinski,” she said as Stiles approached, arms folded across her chest. “Nice top.”

Stiles glanced down at himself and then rolled his eyes, glancing at Derek. For some reason, the boy looked a little constipated and his face was bright red. “Erica owes me twenty bucks.”

Cora raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her brother. Derek just stared.

Stiles sighed. “She said you’d cover her.”

“She— what?”

“Twenty bucks, dude,” Stiles said, sticking out his hand. “Pay up.”

Cora made a scoffing noise and clapped Derek on the shoulder before giving Stiles an amused look. “And that’s my cue to leave. Go easy on him, Stiles. Derek gets a little tongue-tied when he can see skin.”

Stiles blinked, unsure what to do with any part of that sentence. But Derek’s face was red all the way to his ears now and before Stiles could say a word, he was turning away too, starting toward the locker room.

Stiles blinked again, rooted to the spot for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he started after the boy.

“Hey, dude, wait!”

Derek did not, in fact, wait.

Stiles followed him into the locker room, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to catch up. Derek went straight for his locker and started to tug off his shirt, making Stiles yelp and avert his eyes.

Which was stupid, right? Yeah, that was stupid. It’s not like he’d never seen another dude change in the literal locker room before.

“I don’t have your money,” Derek said, sounding like he was grinding his teeth together. Stiles licked his lips nervously, turning to face the boy again.

He was still shirtless.

“Uh, right,” Stiles said, shaking his head. Silently, he willed Derek to pull on his jersey or maybe just stop stripping altogether. His mind was blank for the entire time that Derek finally pulled his basketball jersey over his head, raising an eyebrow afterward as if he didn’t know why Stiles was still within spitting distance of him.

“Well?”

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, and then frowned. “Okay, dude, what the hell is your problem?”

Derek paused with the jersey half pulled down his torso. Stiles tried not to blush.

“You’ve literally only spoken to me like twice,” Stiles said. “And still hate me for some reason. Have I ever done something to offend you? Are you offended by all that is—” he gestured to himself up and down— “This?”

Hale looked taken aback. Stiles’s throat tightened.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t…” Derek shook his head and pulled his jersey all the way down. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Stiles stared at him. He couldn’t see much of the boy’s face in the darkness, but he was pretty sure he was still lying about something. Derek grabbed his bag, starting to brush past, but Stiles caught his arm before he could go anywhere.

Derek made a noise of surprise, spinning back around. And Stiles quickly let go, retreating a step back, and promptly got his feet caught in his own bag, a noise of surprise leaving his mouth before he started to topple over.

He definitely wasn’t going to be fine after this, some part of his brain supplied helpfully.

Only, Stiles didn’t brain himself. Suddenly, there was a hand around his forearm and seconds before Stiles hit the lockers, Derek hauled him back up, grunting slightly.

Except, just because Stiles excelled at making bad things even worse, he found himself lurching forward with the momentum, slamming right into his so-called “you’re fine, I guess” savior.

This time, it was Derek’s turn to go toppling. And the only help Stiles provided was him falling right after the boy.

In all the ways he could die, Stiles never thought it would be death by angry-jock-who-just-got-tackled. Underneath him, Derek’s eyes were wide, face pale, and Stiles stared back, pretty sure his heart had stopped beating in his chest.

For a moment, he was almost terrified to breathe. Then, slowly, he realized he wasn’t dead yet.

“Um,” Stiles said, face turning hot. “Sorry.”

He half-expected Derek to shove him off or maybe give him a good punch in the face first. But instead, the boy just stayed there, frozen, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Stiles felt his throat close, carefully starting to push himself up.

“Stiles,” Derek said croakily. Stile abruptly froze.

“Oh my god, dude, I’m so sorry. Did I break something? Please tell me I didn’t break anything.”

Derek was still staring at him. And Stiles didn’t mean to drop his gaze to the other boy’s lips, he really didn’t. It wasn’t like he’d never imagined what it would be like if Derek one day kissed him. Possibly after he realized Stiles actually existed, possibly after he realized how damn hot Stiles was.

Because he was, thank you very much.

“Stiles,” Derek said again. And Stiles realized he’d been staring for much too long.

Shit.

In a second, Stiles was pushing himself up. He half dragged Derek with him, swaying a little as his heart thudded against his chest. The silence in the locker room was almost too loud as Derek stared at him for a long moment, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“So,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. “About that twenty dollars—”

He was cut off by the action of Derek kissing him.

Derek Hale. Derek Hale was kissing him and Stiles was pretty sure he hadn’t just hit his head too hard when they both fell or something. For a moment, he was too surprised to do anything but make a startled noise at the back of his throat, and then Derek was crowding him against the lockers, one hand carding through his hair as Stiles came snapping back to himself like a rubber band stretched too far.

Derek Hale was kissing him. And dammit if Stiles didn’t kiss him back the moment Stiles exe. was working again.

If he found out later that he had just hit his head too hard or maybe Derek had actually killed him, Stiles supposed he’d be fine. He’d be fine because yeah, he’d probably thought about this a thousand times, but he’d never actually seen it happening.

He also kinda hadn’t ever done anything like this before, so he really hoped Derek wasn’t about to call him the worst kisser ever or something.

Stiles let Derek take the lead as the boy tightened his grip in Stiles’s hair. And yeah, he was so glad he’d decided to let it grow out Sophomore year. Because this? This was every one of his fantasies.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a buzzer from outside.

Stiles jerked so hard, he slammed his head against the lockers, groaning in pain as the kiss broke. He felt a little dazed, a lot shocked, and the moment he opened his eyes, Derek was looking at him with that ‘caught in headlights’ expression again.

Buzzer, some part of Stiles’s brain offered.

The game.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles said, snapping back to reality. If he was the reason that the star player of the basketball team was late to the game, Lydia was totally going to kick him off the cheer squad. Derek was starting to look a little more grounded too, thankfully, and even in the dim light, Stiles could tell his face was bright red.

“Um…”

“Yeah.”

“That was—”

“Mm-hm.”

Derek snapped his mouth shut, eyes flitting from Stiles’s face, to his lips, and then back up. And that was Stiles’s move, wasn’t it? “Was that bad?”

Stiles blinked. Once more, Stiles exe. logged off for a second and then he shook his head, staring. “No? No, definitely not. No.”

“I, uh, don’t hate you,” Derek said. A small, almost shocked laugh built up in Stiles’s throat.

“I could tell.”

Derek looked down at himself, his uniform, and then toward the door. When he looked back, his expression was almost hesitant, and Stiles was almost surprised he’d never seen a look like that before. “I have a game.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, finally cracking a small smile. Because his heart had stopped thudding against his chest now and he just felt a little warm. A little tingly. Which, if this was all real, was actually quite pleasant. “Yeah, dude, I’m usually there too.”

Derek’s ears turned red. “Oh, yeah.”

Stiles looked at the boy, hesitated for a moment, and then leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek. Derek immediately went statue-still again and Stiles snorted despite himself, patting the boy on the shoulder as he slipped by. “That’s for good luck, Hale. I’ll see you out there?”

Derek was still wide-eyes and speechless when he turned around. Still grinning, Stiles offered him a wink and salute, before all but stumbling toward the door.

He could feel Derek staring after him. But the boy didn’t say another word.

Stiles had never seen himself the one to break Derek Hale.

Derek stayed after the brown-haired, amber-eyed boy in silence, his thoughts moving slowly. For a moment, he felt dazed. Then winded. Like he’d already played the game, won, and had maybe been declared MVP or something.

But then Stiles was gone, Derek was left in the silence, and he finally snapped out of his trance.

A trance, yeah. That’s what he could call it.

Because he had just kissed Stiles. He had just kissed Stiles Stilinski.

Derek blinked, then reached up, touching his lips. And fuck, Stiles had tasted like cinnamon and spices. And somehow, it had all been better than Derek might have ever always wondered.

He had just kissed Stiles.

“Oh,” Derek said, as the sound of the scoreboard buzzer went off outside the locker room again. Game— starting— right.

Oh.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

Oh gosh, so I've never actually written a Sterek High School fic, so I apologize if it's a bit rough around the edges. I couldn’t figure out to work the jumper part in, but I hope crop-tops were a okay substitute @wolfile! Thank you so much for the prompt <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfic #sterek fanfic #sterek moodboard #teen wolf moodboard #teen!au #high school au #derek hale x stiles stilinski #first kiss #ficlet #wolfile #prompts #fluff #humor #petition to let stiles wear crop tops

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electricbluebutterflies · 4 years ago

Note

Nina/Mattias + fight sex but they’re idly bickering about something that doesn’t matter very much

Canon-divergent / the little adventure up in frozen hell took long enough for this dynamic to develop (because what even is a timeline and I have no clue how long it actually was on the show). Also, for plot purposes and context, this does make use of my belief that everyone is just SLIGHTLY aged up on the show and in my head most of the main lineup is 20ish. Oh, and first time writing these babes so fingers crossed I got characterization okay. Obviously NSFWish ahead, a little more graphic than I’ve written in a while and also involves a First Time...

He’s keeping the third blanket from her.

It is, objectively, the most petty Nina has felt since the whole almost-dying thing happened, maybe even since the getting-captured bit. Trying to get under his skin, trying to handle the daily shifting of their dynamic, has been almost as exhausting as trying to stay alive. Which in itself is enough of a challenge, because somehow they are lost and whenever Nina gets back to civilization she is going to have so many comments about Druskelle navigational instincts or the apparent total lack thereof. So. Many. Comments. The moment she has a possibly appreciative audience, because she is not wasting her breath on that here right now and-

At least tonight they’re in some kind of fishing shack again, clear space to build a fire and a pile of blankets of various questionable quality. There have been nights they haven’t been so lucky. She’s saving her energy for where it matters. But on the other hand, she is a delicate fragile creature who has made a point of avoiding this sort of climate, and…

Mathias still has the third blanket, and the fire is going well enough that they objectively can stay on opposite sides of this space, and Nina decides it’s time to change the game.

He’s pretty, okay? He’s annoying and stubborn and honestly at this point him technically being The Enemy is relatively low on the list of reasons he’s stomping on her every last nerve, but the man has two things in his favor – he’s loyal, and he is very nice to look at. Nina does not historically have the attention span when it comes to that level of pretty, but this one has decided to make it difficult for her. Like, he can say up and down that he does not want her, but they’ve shared a sleep-space – “bed” is too nice a word for most of those situations – for a week or so and she doesn’t need words, she knows what she wakes up to.

And she knows how damn respectful he is, she thinks as she starts undoing her vest buttons. This outfit, while very cute two weeks ago before her entire life took a very undesired detour, was not made for seduction. But if she does it slow enough, she hopes she won’t set him off. The other time she had to deal with that element of things, he was polite and turned his back even though she didn’t ask him to, and she assumes the same will happen here and she’ll get nowhere and-

Okay, fine, it’s not like taking off her vest reveals anything outright explicit. The current light makes her shirt a little more see-through than it’s meant to be, but still. She is about as decent as she ever gets.

“What are you doing?” he asks, tone about as calm as she’s ever heard him.

“You do not need two blankets,” Nina counters. “I want.”

And oh does that phrase cover more than his little Fjerdan mind has probably ever thought of. All those comments he’s made about assuming she’s trying to seduce him? Yeah, hasn’t been the main goal yet but she’s thought about it. Seeing what she could do to him – she does not expect he’d take any initiative there, highly doubts he’s ever even kissed anyone – would not be the worst way to spend an evening. So, that’s part of the plan now. Make him squirm, get on top of him, and take her prize. Should be easy.

As if to prove her point, she starts loosening the laces of her shirt just enough to easily take it off. She hadn’t bothered to wear anything under it, another brilliant idea proving that two-weeks-ago Nina had questionable judgment in all things, and it is all too easy to push it up over her shoulders and off her arms and…

He’s still watching. He looks wide-eyed and possibly concussed, but he’s still watching.

If Nina were a different sort of person, and probably also if she had gotten laid within the past six months (for the record it has been eight and that cute little bartender with the long nails was a way better lover than she was an informant), she would cross her arms over her breasts and stop here and wait for whatever protective instincts Mathias has to kick in. Even given what she’s just done, she looks vulnerable and cute enough to wake him up like that, and-

“What are you doing?” he asks again, this time more hostile. Good. When he’s frustrated his voice gets all growly, and that does things to her, and-

“Can we get this over with?”

“This?”

“The part where we have questionable hatesex that I will forget ever happened within the next year and you will remember for the rest of your life because whatever little creature gets stuck with you someday will not fuck you like I want to.”

For a moment, she’s pretty sure she broke him. This is definitely not about the blanket anymore, and-

“I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

Nina laughs. “Yeah well you are deeper in denial than anybody I’ve ever met. I am everything that scares you and you are stuck with me and I’m not sure which part of your code I do not violate but I am sure you would’ve-”

“You saved my life. I owe you everything.”

“Cute. Obligation. Great reason to put up with someone but still do everything you can to drag your feet about it.”

“Why do you… want me?” He sounds all hesitant, and good grief has nobody ever told this man what he looks like? Or do all of his people look that good at that age… that’s plausible enough…

“Limited options right now. It’s you or my hand and you’re warmer.”

She is not sure what she’s expecting beyond not what he actually does.

Fine, so she’s been good and hasn’t looked more than she had to when he’s been in a state of undress. Watching him strip right now, layers of leathers and furs that are apparently frightfully easy to take off, is different. He is wanting her to watch, keeping his eyes on her the whole time until he is completely naked in front of her and… she can’t help licking her lips, he is pretty and she wants all of that all over her. Now.

“This or your hand,” he repeats in a way that suggests that at least she probably won’t have to explain the general patterns of female masturbation to him. “Make your choice.”

She about tackles him.

He’s built like a damn tree, Nina reminds herself in the process. Solid enough to handle her attempt at literally jumping him, which doesn’t exactly work but does throw off his balance for a moment, and she gets him pulled down for a bitey kiss. He has just a little bit of scruff now and she’d wanna see what that feels like between her legs but also she is pretty sure Fjerdan men do not do that and she doesn’t want to completely wreck him in one go, and while she still suspects all of this is new to him, he has good instincts.

Her skirt and underwear are feeling like too much of an undesired obstacle, so she undoes them with her free hand while trying to stick her tongue down his throat. So she’s a little aggressive, whatever, he’s clearly into it and nobody gets hurt by it.

“What do you need me to do,” he breathes, and oh he can admit being clueless, this is a treasure, this is-

She grabs his wrist and puts his hand between her thighs. “Poke around until you like the noises I’m making.”

Mathias has good hands. She’s known this for several days now, but it is a different thing to know it with one of said hands exploring her soft parts. She feels a fingertip inside her then quickly pulled back, another batting her clit back and forth with uncertainty. Then the finger inside her is back, and she knows how wet she is, and-

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“That’s why I’m leading. I’m not giving you the chance.”

But he couldn’t hurt her like this, she thinks. Not with his hands prepping her and a second finger up inside her and accidentally finding her sensitive spot, not with his prick hard against her belly, not with his mouth taking kisses as he learns what he likes. There is something inherently good in him and she worries for a moment that what they are about to do will break it, and yet-

“Get on your back,” she orders. Easier for both of them if she leads, she reminds herself.

He does without any complaint, and she takes a moment to enjoy the view. The solidness of him, for the next few minutes all hers. Would any of the girls he might get stuck with back home be able to handle this? And the way he’s looking up at her, a scared but willing participant in whatever she decides to do. Maybe he’s right. Maybe hatesex is the wrong word.

She straddles him, knees around his hips, and drops.

Blame the dry spell. Blame the absolute weirdness of the situation. Blame the fact that she is tired and hungry and cold. None of that matters. He feels good inside her and she makes a noise she cannot describe and-

“Am I…?”

“No. Feels good.”

She rolls her hips against his to prove a point, works him even deeper into her and leans down for more kisses. She can taste the shock and the innocence of him. This isn’t how he thought his first time would go, she is sure of it now, and yet he is allowing her and-

His hips jerk up and she makes a shocked little noise. “Do that again.”

He does, and she continues her pattern, and… it’s good, on her side. Not the best sex she’s ever had, but his hesitance is useful enough. She doesn’t trust him to say if he’s getting close, so she stays focused on his face, looking for signs, looking for-

She shifts her angle just a little bit, his prick hits the right spot inside her harder than she expects, and she shatters.

As she comes down, she sees that his expression has turned to something worse, scared and worried and unable to speak. He’s still hard inside her, at least, but he is motionless and cold and she doesn’t-

“Did I hurt you?”

Nina laughs. She shouldn’t, this is a legitimately valid question, but-

“No. What you just did felt amazing. Your turn.”

She resumes rolling her hips against his to indicate the conversation is over and she does not want to explain herself, and a few clenches of her inner walls later he spills inside her. It’s a beautiful thing to experience, the sudden warmth overlapping with the strangled gasp of surprise and-

“You know this means I have to marry you,” he says when he’s capable of coherent thought. “If there’s any chance…”

She shifts position so their bodies are no longer connected. “No. It doesn’t.”

“But I…”

“We’re too different,” she murmurs. “You know that. There’s nowhere safe. If anything… if the worst happens, I’ll lie.”

“Honor is honor. If there is even a chance-“

And oh, for a moment she wants it too. For a moment, she lets herself think about the impossibility of being all that she could be, both Grisha and wife, not forced to choose between her complexities. Unrealistic, she knows, a flighty daydream at best but she wants all the same.

“Nothing to worry about. My last cycle finished three days before your people tried to kill me, so… right now I can’t get pregnant.”

“Still. If it happened… I would stand by you.”

She kisses his face, covers the angles of him in wet kisses. “Good to know.”

#pixievixen #helnik #nina x mathias #ebf writes fic

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