#im not a huge fan of the rest of the body... especially the hands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stellarbit · 5 months ago

Note

Im a huge fan of your tbb x reader works! Especially tech x reader.

Can I make a request for a one bed scenario? (NSFW or SFW, no preference) On a mission maybe, or just generally tech up to his mischief, I adore the way you write his methodical testing and teasing. It appeals to my fandom trash heart *and* the ‘tism 😆

May your next ibuprofen kick in swiftly 💛💛

~And there was one bed~

Word Count: 1.3k Pairing: fem!reader x Tech Warnings: light petting Summary: It's not your fault there's one bed - you don't speak Rodese. Tech's not mad though.

Tech turned to you carrying an unimpressed deadpan expression. “Care to explain how your planning resulted in insufficient accommodations?”

You took a deep breath, stifling your rising frustration. “I did mention I’m not fluent in Rodese.” Turning a similarly unamused face on Tech, you offered a stiff smile.

Letting out a contemplative noise, Tech shifted his attention to the bed in question. “While it is of adequate size for two adults, I have no issue resting elsewhere.” He pivoted in place to assess the rest of the room. Pointing to an armchair tucked in the corner, he continued. “That will do nicely.”

Without pause, Tech stepped towards the chair only for you to catch him by the arm. His uncanny ability to fall asleep under any circumstances was no secret, but you couldn’t ignore the way he rolled kinks out of his neck and shoulders afterward. You didn’t want to be the reason for his soreness this time. You just had to keep your hands to yourself — no big deal.

Tech glanced between your touch and your tired expression. Nodding to the bed, you attempted to shrug off the situation. “It’s not like anyone is around to see.” You’d been dancing around your nerves concerning Tech for weeks. The idea of him avoiding sharing a bed due to your awkward reactions strengthened your resolve to professionally share the space.

That very resolve cracked when his armor started dropping. While Tech stripped, rattling off Hunter’s mission briefing, you dialed in on the way his biceps flexed and relaxed as he moved. The tight fit of his blacks highlighted the definition of his muscles, a rare sight you couldn’t break away from.

“Are you listening?” Tech tilted his head to meet your gaze, pulling you back to reality. When your response was just a few absent blinks, Tech sighed but patiently repeated the details he had provided earlier.

After dousing yourself in a cold shower, you joined Tech in the bed. He was propped up against the headboard, sitting over the blankets with the soft glow of his datapad reflecting off his goggles.

Scooting beneath blankets, you debated the most appropriate position to take. Facing him was the last thing you could stomach, but you worried facing away would add to his evidence of your avoiding him. You ended up on your back, leaving it to fate once you were asleep.

“Are you comfortable?” Tech asked, his voice unusually gentle—a rare question for him.

You hummed an affirmative, breathing through the flutter in your chest at the reminder of his proximity to you. You weren’t sure you could manage even a simple ‘yep’ without a crack in your voice. Thankfully, the deep breathing at least eased you into a sleepy haze.

Tech wouldn’t say that he had been waiting for an opportunity to observe you under such intimate conditions. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to let the time go to waste. Sharing space with you was seemingly stress-free for him. Your response indicated minimal hesitation, which was intriguing to him.

You sparked his intrigue weeks prior during a fast escape. As he pulled you out of the path of blaster fire, Tech sheltered you against a wall, his body shielding yours. Trapped in his embrace, you were wide-eyed and with something like pain on your face, a reaction that lingered even after the danger had subsided.

Initially, he thought your discomfort stemmed from his leg pressed between your thighs. However, when he shifted his leg and he saw you flinch, he was at a loss. You regained your composure once you completely disentangled, but there was a flush to your skin Tech had yet to witness.

From then on, Tech meticulously observed your behavior under stress, around his brothers, and during physical contact. Yet, none of these situations triggered the reaction he had witnessed. Eventually, driven by impatience, Tech decided to take matters into his own hands.

He subtly closed in on you during ship repairs, selected you as his partner for running errands, and seized any opportunity to initiate contact. Through these interactions, he deduced that the common denominator in your reactions was his presence. He also realized the limitations of his experiments under the watchful eye of his brothers.

So, while your planning had landed you in one bed, sharing a night alone was entirely Tech’s maneuvering.

Tech waited until your breathing evened into a slow, controlled rhythm before setting his device aside. The room was dark, but his goggles provided him with sufficient visibility. He began his 'test' by slightly moving his leg against yours. When you didn't react, Tech wondered if he had missed his window with you.

Determined, Tech pushed back his side of the blankets and gently slid in. Again, he pressed his leg against yours. You mumbled through a twitch, spurring Tech to move further against you. You let out a long breath, but otherwise were unfazed.

Tech knew he was walking a fine line. While he wanted to test you, tease you even, he didn’t want this to be unpleasant for you. If he wanted to continue, he decided, he needed your consent and he needed you awake.

Deciding that any further steps required clear communication, Tech tapped his finger nervously against his thigh as he pondered his next move. With little experience in these matters, he was charting unknown territory, which only enticed him more.

Carefully rolling onto his side, he propped his head on one hand and prepared to wake you gently. His heart raced slightly at the factor of the unknown. Tech was leaning over you, taking perhaps his last chance to watch you so closely, when he spotted the tint of your cheeks through the low light.

A knowing smile ticked Tech’s lips. Diligently scanning your face, Tech rolled his thigh into you. The twitch of your lips proved his theory right.

In a low voice, Tech announced, “You are awake.”

Unable to maintain a pretense of calm, your breath hitched and your eyes opened. You blinked against the soft glow of Tech’s goggles hovering above you. He was closer than you’d realized.

“Are you comfortable?” Tech asked you again. He adjusted his stance, purposely resting his free hand over his waist to barely brush your stomach. The light touch sent a shiver through you.

You didn’t immediately answer. You recognized the look in his eyes enough to know he was cataloging something about you. Noting all the places he was pressing against you, a thought occurred to you.

Shifting your head back for a better look at him, you returned his smile. “Are you?”

His gaze caught on your smile for a moment. Drifting his hand closer, he spread his fingers over your stomach until his whole hand rested on you. Meeting your gaze, Tech gently tapped a finger on your stomach.

“No.” He answered and, before you could panic, added, “But that is to be expected when trying new things.”

Your breath hitched. “And what exactly are you trying?”

“To be blunt, you.” You made a small noise at his confession, flaring Tech’s eagerness. “I’ve noticed you often react like that to my presence and I’d like to see how else you might respond to me.”

Heat flooded your core. “How are you planning to do that?” you asked, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

Tech’s head lifted off his hand with some surprise, processing his next move quickly. Leaning in, he rested his arm on the pillow above your head, subtly shifting his weight onto you. “Would you like me to show you?”

Your response was immediate, your hips instinctively squirming under him. “Very much.”

Tech gave a low chuckle. “Well, for starters, I want to see how you react-” The hand on your stomach drifted lower, over your pelvis, and tucked between your thighs. “When I touch you here.”

#love this balding man #Gimme my man back #and there was one man #tech #tbb tech #the bad batch tech #tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #tech x you #tech imagine #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch x reader #tbb tech x reader #clone trooper tech #i just love him so much your honor #x reader

292 notes · View notes

e-m-ma-lmfao · 1 year ago

Note

HII im a huge fan of ur writing and ur one of the few final fantasy writers on here thats active 😭😭 i was hoping i could request some zack fair fluff? like before the events of crisis core, maybe he accidentally gets himself sick during work and angeal knows he'll just keep showing up for work bc he wants the promotion to first class so bad, so he gets zacks childhood bestfriend (reader) to go keep an eye on him and make sure he actually rests lol. zack keeps insisting hes ok but reader is having none of it and takes care of him, which eventually leads to a confession bc zack doesnt understand why reader cares so much and it just leads to everything coming out. i hope that made sense lol this is my first request :) dont feel pressured to do this of course!!!

Since We Were Kids

pairing : zack fair x (female) reader

summary : zack is determined to reach first class. so much so that he will push through one of the most debilitating cold's he's ever had. angeal attempts to get him home, calling in zacks childhood best friend for help.

“Angeal! Come on! You know how important this is to me..” Zack lets out a pitiful whine, attempting to persuade his superior, before his whine turns into a horrific coughing fit. He doesn’t have to look up now that Angeal’s face has made no changes, he is stoic and his decision is final, Zack will not be staying for work this week.

“You can take a week off.. Besides you're of no use to anybody with the state you're in. Go home, get some rest.”

“Fine..”

“I mean it Zack..”

“Yeah..yeah..i heard ya.” Zack crosses his arms, heavy sigh passing through his lips, eyebrows furrowing as he walks away from where Angeal stands. He was barely sick..a little cough wasn’t gonna hold him back from becoming a first class SOLDIER.

Zack barely lasts 20 minutes away from his training before his sword is back in his hands. His constant coughing fits are feeling him with annoyance but he powers through them to continue swinging away with the chunk of metal in his hands.

But why was he so tired? He usually had so much energy. Why was his sword so hard to carry? It never had been before..

And why did it feel like someone's hand was on his shoulder? “Zack!”

He jumps away when there is suddenly shouting coming from beside him, his head pounding in a way that wasn't noticeable until this moment, “Angeal! Hey pal..what’re you..uh..doing here?”

“What’re you doing here? I told you to go home.”

“I can’t go home, this is too important, I’m not even that sick..” Even Zack’s faith in the statement is beginning to falter, especially when his eyes become blurry from the dizziness pooling at the front of his head.

“Go home.”

“No way!” Zack expects Angeal to disagree again but he doesn’t, he actually doesn't say anything, he just walks away. It’s so out of character that Zack debates just listening to him and leaving so he doesn’t get demoted, but he decides against it and continues to practice while sweat pools on his skin.

It doesn’t take long for Angeal to return, Zack isn't worried when he hears his heavy footsteps from down the hallway, but he is unaware of the other pair of feet following close behind.

At this point, Zack is just staying for spite, his body is exhausted and he is barely swinging his sword, and his coughing fits are becoming more frequent to the point where he has to stop moving to take deep breaths.

“Zack. Enough is enough. Your friend can take you home now.”

“Huh?” Zack turns and almost starts coughing again, but only because the breath hitches in his throat, you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be seeing him like this. It’s pitiful, his inability to stay strong for training is embarrassing, and your gaze full of pity isn;t helping in the way it usually does.

“She’s taking you home.” Zack opens his mouth to argue once more but Angeal has had enough, “No arguing. My decision is final, if I see you here again before I say you can return I will demote you myself, good luck reaching first class then..”

Zack looks defeated but he closes his mouth, and drops his sword with a loud clang, before trudging towards your side with his arms crossed tightly. His mannerisms make a giggle slip out of you, he looks like a child, but you quickly mask it as a cough when he shoots you a serious glare. Also reminiscent of a child but if you laughed again he might punch you.

He isn’t happy about having to leave, especially being escorted out by a lady half his size, but he doesn’t make any complaints when you intertwine your arm in his to keep him stable.

“I’m fine, y’know. I’m only going home because Angeal made me.” You nod along with him as he talks, hiding the disbelief running through your head. God was this kid stubborn, but it made you happy to know that his training hadn't changed the way he was when you were kids.

“Zack, you need to rest..”

“I need to reach first class.”

“How do you expect to do that if you can’t even hold your sword up, dork.” His face scrunches up, but to your surprise he doesn’t pull his body away, he actually does the opposite and pulls your arm closer to his body. He’s using you to hold up a large amount of his body weight, but you allow him as long as he needs.

When you finally reach Zack’s home, it takes more effort to get him into bed then you’d care to admit, he truly acts like a child insisting that he ‘doesn’t need to get any sleep because he feels perfectly fine’ followed by a coughing fit and him having to sit down because he feels dizzy. You promise him the soup that he likes if he gets into bed, to which he begrudgingly agrees to.

After practically forcing food down his throat, he finally allows himself to be tired and his head falls back onto the pillows. You place a cold cloth on his forehead, after feeling it with your own hands and deciding that his fever might only be worsening. How’d he keep training while being this sick?

You watch as he dozes off, you can tell he is trying to stay awake so he doesn’t fully admit that he is sick, but his body is taking over. He finally looks at peace, even though his hair is sticking to his forehead and his breathing is heavy, at least he’s getting some rest.

You plan on leaving, really you do, but you get so caught up in the image of him sleeping that you find your own eyes falling closed, head resting by his side against the bed.

When your eyes open again it’s dark outside, you can’t tell how long you’ve been sitting with him but from the darkness pouring into the room, it’s longer then you meant for. You worry for a moment, worry that you’ve overstayed your welcome and that Zack got up hours ago to sleep away from you, but when you turn the lamp on beside his bed you find him in the same spot you’d left him.

You’re greedy with how you look at him, you miss being so close to him. The proximity makes you realize how much you’ve missed him since he started his training, you hardly see him. And you wish the circumstances for finally seeing him again weren't because he was sick, and rather because he actually wanted to see you. But you’d take any time you could get with your best friend.

He stirs suddenly and you let your hand fall on top of his, tangling your fingers in his, as a way to bring him some comfort in his sleep. His skin is warm and clammy, heating up your hands, it should be gross but the feeling of his hand in yours fills your stomach with a flurry of butterflies.

Slowly, his eyes flutter open and you can tell he is dazed, the way he scans the room to gather his surroundings before landing on you once more confirms your thoughts.

“Y/n?” Zack’s voice is hoarse, causing him to clear his throat before he continues talking, “What’re you still doing here? How long have you been here?”

For a minute your heart pumps inside your chest faster than before, nervousness building in your stomach, “I’m sorry..I fell asleep a couple..hours ago I think. I didn’t want to leave right away in case you woke up again but I never meant to fall asleep.”

“Why’re you apologizing..” His fingers, which you had forgotten were tangled in your own, tense against your skin and tighten their grip on your hand.

“Sorry..”

Your second apology causes him to let out a laugh. A laugh that immediately has him sitting up because he coughs so hard his lungs hurt, and he squeezes your hand tighter in his lap while he tries to catch a breath.

When he finally catches a break, taking deep breaths while your hand slides up and down his back, he looks at you pitifully, “You’re gonna get sick..go home.”

“You're crazy if you think I'm going home. I’m not leaving, who’s gonna take care of you?”

“I can take care of myself, you know..”

“This is news to me.” You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he responds by sticking his tongue out tiredly. He can’t even retort like he usually does. He doesn't have the energy to argue and tell you to leave so you don’t get sick, Zack isn’t even sure he wants you to leave anymore.

“You don’t have to stay..”

“I want to, Zack. I care about you.” You can’t tell if his cheeks were already flushed or if they suddenly became red as you spoke to him, but either way you were sure your face was mirroring his.

He falls back onto the pillows, asking you quietly if you'll get him some water and another blanket before he gets the chills, and you happily oblige. Even while he’s sick, he is able to feel content and you’re happy to be the reason.

Zack's fingers find your hand again, squeezing gently as you sit on the chair beside him, “..Training is kicking my ass.”

“Yeah..but I’m sure it’ll be all worth it eventually,” You try not to let his spirits get down especially while he is in such a tired state, his training put on pause because of his sickness, and you ponder telling him more, “I miss you, you know..a lot.”

A small smile appears on his face, eyes puffy and bags under his eyes, and he looks towards you, “Yeah?”

You can only nod, embarrassed by his lack of affirmation that he has felt the same over the months he’s been training.

“I missed you too..” And the embarrassment flees from your body instantaneously, while his thumb rubs over the top of your knuckles.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, him playing with your knuckles as he tries to hold back the aggressive coughs that threaten to leave his mouth. His head is pounding, and he should feel like shit, but he truly can’t bring himself to when you're looking into his eyes all concerned and you’re letting him play with your hands with no complaints.

“Why’d you stay?” His voice startles you, and you try to pretend that you weren't staring at him and admiring every detail of his face.

“I already told you..” You roll your eyes, letting out a huff before leaning on the palm of your hand, in all honesty you were ready to doze off while Zack looked around your hands and face.

“No..no..why’d you stick around?” His question confuses you and you have to think about what he might mean and then it clicks. You hadn’t realized that he might be aware of how much time his training takes up. It hadn’t occurred to you that Zack could focus on anything but becoming first class.

He’d been neglecting your friendship, but when Angeal rang and asked you to pick Zack up you agreed without hesitation, you forgot instantly about how angry his schedule made you.

You’re not sure how to answer him. You could tell him the truth, that you had been madly in love with your black haired friend since you were children.

Or you could continue to lie, and claim that you had only stayed around because of your long lasting friendship that had absolutely no underlying romantic feelings that neither one of you could talk about.

“C’mon Zack..”

He stares into your eyes, right through you. He knows, he already knows, you don’t have to say anything to him. As he looks at you, he's pleading with you to admit it to him and it makes your stomach crawl with nervousness.

“Y’know I’d do anything for you..been like that since we were kids.” His eyebrows furrow at your attempt to dodge an admission that you hadn’t been prepared for an hour ago, you still weren't ready to admit to him that you were in love with him.

“Y/n..do you love me?”

Again silence fills the room and you’re unsure what to say to the expectant boy. You think, for a second, that he's joking. But his eyes are filled with such sincerity and genuine interest. He wants to know, and he doesn't seem to care if his question comes off bluntly.

When you don’t immediately respond he continues in your place, “Because I think I’m in love with you and I know I’d do anything for you. And I think you feel the same way. I can’t think of any other reason why you wouldn't ignore Angeal’s call, and tell me to deal with this by myself. I know I haven't been around like I should be. But you’re here anyway..”

“Zack please..of course I do. Been like that since we were kids,” You smile softly, repeating yourself and look down at your entangled hands.

He doesn’t let that allow that for very long before he is grabbing your chin to turn your head to face him once more, “I’m not gonna kiss you, because I don't want you getting sick. But I promise you, as soon as this sickness is gone I’m gonna be all over you..”

Even though his words, words you would've never expected to hear when you dragged him into his room just hours earlier, send a nervous shiver down your body you still find a way to tease him, “Careful Zack. Get too excited and your lungs might act up again.”

“Can I ask you to stay the night?”

How could you ever say no.

“Of course, Zack, anything for my first class SOLDIER.”

#zack fair #zack fair x reader #ff7 #crisis core #x reader #oneshot #drabble #female reader #final fantasy vii #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #zack ffvii #fem reader #final fantasy x reader

193 notes · View notes

c3stlav1e · 9 months ago

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ basics

♡ . stage name: anya

♡ . birth name: na eunhye

♡ . birthday: july 28, 1996

♡ . zodiac: leo

♡ . birthplace: seoul, south korea

♡ . ethnicity: korean

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ personal

♡ . personality

anya genuinely has good intentions 90% of the time, her biggest problem is getting them across correctly after leading such a spoiled life. she is exceptionally generous, never knowing to want for anything herself, she never allows those closest to her to want for anything either. however, this can sometimes get under people's skin when they view it as pity or think that she sees them as a charity case (which, honestly, she does sometimes). she is very straightforward, saying what she means and meaning what she says. she is also the first to defend her own character or that of her friends should anyone try and start something with her or someone she cares about. she is never afraid to ask for something she wants and will absolutely advocate for others should they need her confidence. simultaneously, she is never one to accept a “no” easily, and is exceptionally good at using charms or logic to negotiate out of any rejection. she makes a great hype woman because she tends to be incredibly objective, but if she doesn’t think something is working, she will try her best to offer solutions for improvement. she can be a bit of a try hard sometimes, but she really just takes her passions seriously, whether it be her career, talents, or relationships.

♡ . family

. sim sunyoung “ shannon “ ; mother

. na junghoon “ gordon “ ; father

. na eunsung “ sebastian “ ; brother

. hong soonhee ; grandmother

♡ . physical

. height: 163 cm ( 5’4” )

. faceclaim: im nayeon

. body mods: single lobe piercings, a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on her hip

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ professional

♡ . label: rainbow entertainment

♡ . training period: 9 months

♡ . group position: lead vocalist

♡ . idol persona

anya is the princess of kpop, truly. she is rich, beautiful, talented, and charming, someone who is hard to outmatch in the public arena. she is the most popular member of the group, never failing to make waves with a simple instagram post. she is constantly in some deal or campaign with luxury brands, however her ambassadorship with yves saint laurent is currently her longest running and arguably most iconic. she is also widely known for having several high profile dating scandals, from exo’s kai to jean arnault. her princess role is consistent within the group, however it is more of a lighthearted joke with her members and fans than how seriously the press and the public tend to take it. she attended private school in england for her entire education, so her english speaking voice has a very posh british accent that most fans adore, however it adds to the whole princess bit. her members love to poke fun at her by copying her accent or certain words she uses, but it is always in good fun. she is not one to get her hands dirty if she can help it, and she often catches teasing for that as well. in games and challenges they do on variety shows, she will go all in for puzzles or mental battles but as soon as it’s something physical, the rest of her members do not want her on their team.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ history

na eunhye is the eldest daughter to the youngest son of a powerful chaebol family. she was never very close to her immediate family, her father largely absent, her mother far too overbearing, and her little brother off in his own world, especially during the school year she spent off in england at school. but the one person in her family she worshipped more than anything was always her grandmother. her father’s mother, hong soonhee, was the matriarch of the family and lived in a huge mansion in the mountains outside seoul, where anya spent her summers more often than not. being the youngest girl of the family, she was always soonhee’s favorite. when she had her grandmother in her corner, anya never even need ask for anything she wanted.

her mother, who honestly married into the family for he connection to the money, was almost jealous of the relationship she had with soonhee. anya’s grandmother never liked her mother and had a knack for disagreeing with her on most things. when anya announced that she decided she wanted to pursue singing, her mother was absolutely against it. although she had taken ballet and piano lessons all her life, and had a rather beautiful voice, her mother believed it to be a very improper profession and entirely useless in life. but her grandmother loved to hear her sing, constantly asking her to give her little concerts every time she visited her house. although she wouldn’t normally agree with the idol life as a career, she simply wanted her favorite granddaughter to be happy and if performing did that, then she would back it 100%. especially if her mother was particularly against it.

she was accepted into both sm and yg entertainment, and was struggling to pick between the two when the small, newly rebuilt rainbow entertainment offered her a spot in their newest lineup that was set to debut in less than a year. her grandmother was hesitant, knowing that sm and yg would both provide the best shot at fame for her granddaughter, but anya knew she could train for years and years at those companies and never debut. she wanted her shot at fame as quick as possible, and took the leap with rbe. it was hard getting along with the other girls at first, some trainees treating her as if she had bought her way into the lineup, but going through the trials and tribulations of debut together brought them all that much closer.

#c’est la vie ! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ profile ♡ .#c’est la vie ! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ anya ♡ .#fictional kpop community #fictional kpop group #fictional kpop idol #oc kpop idol #oc kpop group #fake kpop group #fake kpop idol #kpop oc #oc idol #idol oc #fictional idol oc #fictional idol community #fictional idol group #oc kpop gg #fake kpop oc

6 notes · View notes

lemon-sugarcoats-nothing · 2 years ago

Text

I hear you Mocha, and I understand your struggles <3 I know it can be hard sometimes, feeling like your art is and will never be good enough. This feeling is normal, and please please please understand that you're not alone in this! Almost every artist thinks this way from time to time. This isn't to take away from your problems, but for solidarity in knowing that even the artists you look up to most either 1. Feel this way right now or 2. Have felt this way in the past. Myself included.

As for the base usage, thats okay! A lot of artists start out that way, and it doesn't make you any less of an artist. I've seen a lot of improvement with your free-hand art, and I think using bases has helped you with that to an extent. Just remember that it never hurts to branch out from using bases, and you don't have to use them to make something pretty.

I love you Mocha, and I dont mean to lecture or pressure you. I'm here if you ever just want to talk about this and just leave it alone. For that reason, I warn that if you're not looking for any serious advice, disregard the rest of this reply. From here I'm just gonna give tips for expanding your art and getting it where you want to go 💛 Its okay to stop here and come back to it later (or never). Im no authority on any of this, this is just information I gathered through hundreds of hours of hyper-fixation and study through the past....sssiiix years???

If you're looking to change your art style into something different

(whether that be more detailed, more defined, etc.) I heavily recommend you do art studies. Try art styles that maybe you're not familiar with, maybe even not a huge fan of (cough, that would be cubism for me, cough) and see what techniques you might like to incorporate into your own style. With each one ask yourself;

-What do people generally like about this style?

-What makes this style interesting/unique/different?

-What do I personally like about this style?

-What do I NOT like about this style

Try looking at;

-line art (is there any? is it thick? is it thin? Does it have line-weight variations, or is it very same-y?)

-color use (Pastel? Bright colors? Dark colors? Muted? Monochrome?)

-lighting style (Is the shading very detailed and realistic or very simple to get the point across? Is it blended? is the shading hard-edged? Is it a mix of both? is there any shading at all?)

-For character art styles, what Kinds of characters do they draw? (Thin girls with big boobies? Punk/alt fashion and characters? Larger body types? A wide variety of body types? Cartoony, anime, or semi-realistic? etc.)

-What kinds of shape language do they use? (Sharp edges and triangular shapes? Round, soft shapes? Do they use a mix of both?)

-How do they show their subject matter in 3D space? (Do their subjects look like they have weight and form, or are they flat like a sticker? How do they show that?)

-If applicable, look at their youtube speedpaints and watch how they draw; See if you can copy their techniques!

For all of this, there are no rules for what you keep and apply to your own art, and what you discard and choose not to use. I do recommend at least trying out some different styles, and then finding something to practice working into your drawing habits.

For character and fashion design

Again, look at artist's designs that you like! This is also where pinterest will especially be your best friend. Look for references of the type of outfits you want to draw, and see how you can hodgepodge them together into something new!

Some things I like to keep in mind, that i learned from artists like ABDIllustrates;

-It's generally a good idea to keep your pallets limited to just a few main colors, but with every rule in art, theres always room to bend or break them

-Balance your colors through your designs, and focus on where your colors draw your attention when viewing it as a 3rd party. (it might be helpful to take a few hours break from a drawing to do this, or ask a friend) If it draws attention away from where you want it too, then see how you can move colors around or alter them to make it work.

-References are your BEST FRIEND, and dont be afraid to have more than 10 references. The more references you have for a style, the more likely you are to both create something original and something that really feels like a part of that fashion subculture.

-pay attention to how the fabric lays on the people wearing it!

Other than that, all I can really say is just- binge watch ABDIllustrates redesigning his old RWBY characters, his Heartless series, and (if it interests you at all) his Disney D&D designs series. (I also recommend watching his speedpaints if you want to learn from a style that balances cartoon, anime, and semi-realism very well without it getting too complicated)

For line art and sketching

If you also happen to ever feel like your art feels too stiff, these are some little tips that have helped me (whenever i consciously use them ^^;)

-Do not death grip your pen, oh my god do not- This will save you from so many hand cramps and will let you draw longer; Hold your pen comfortably, but try not to put too much pressure on your fingers, or on the pen to your paper/tablet. I know this is a hard habit to break, but instead of trying to hold your pen vertically, try holding it at about a 45 degree angle from your surface and reminding yourself to hold your pen looser.

-Stretch your fingers periodically through the day! This helps ease tension (duh) and can help with the point above with the death grip.

-Take breaks. If your hand starts to hurt, let go of your pen, stretch, and take 5 mins break; If after, your hand STILL hurts, run it under warm water, massage it gently, and do something easy on the hands until your hand feels normal again.

-Try to use long, fluid strokes in sketching. See how long you can sketch before lifting your pen! Go wild dude, and try not to worry about it looking good just yet. do a REALLY rough sketch just to get your idea out there, then a clean up sketch before lineart if you have to. This is especially good if you dont really know what you want to draw or dont know how to draw what you want to. See where your hand takes you!

-For lineart, i have no valid tips for on paper...But digitally! I tend to try not to take to long on a single stroke. I do the strokes fast, and extending past where i want them to go (of course undoing if it doesnt match what i want, and cleaning up any cross over on my lines) Really though, all of it is up to your preferences and how you want your lineart to look. (now or acquired through art studies)

I could keep going, but this is already getting long and anything else I have to say, I'm pretty sure you're already aware of (Figure sketches, gesture drawings, studying realism, etc.) I just hope at least something in this post helps, Mocha.

-Mod Bee 💛🐝

Slight Vent 🍫

I feel like a fake artist. My art's not good unless I use a base, vaguely trace the shapes in an image, or even trace a nice artist's drawing on Pinterest and change it up enough so it's not a blatant rip-off of someone else's hard work. I am not an art tracer, and when I use a base or something as a heavy reference I do credit the original artist. (Save some asks here and there because the reference usually comes from Pinterest and I can't find the original artist for the base because the links back to the source material bug out or I forget to actually look)

All my friends have amazing artwork and styles that are recognizable or likable and the only comment I ever get on my art is "cute". "You're art style's so cute!" "Oh that's cute" cute, cute, CUTE. I want my art to be more than just cute! but I can't draw anything that isn't cute. even if I try to make something scary or different it just ends up being "cute" or inappropriate. This isn't to say I hate the "cute" compliment, but I just hear it and only it so often it feels like that's all my art is ever going to be.

I've tried to own it, but I've seen and still see art styles "cuter" than mine. I also suck at outfit design. hell, it's why Cinna's only in generic dresses, hoodies, and t-shirts. "Design an outfit for a fancy party mocha" I can't because i'm SHIT at fashion design. I can't draw clothes, I can't make anything without a reference, and everyone's better than me. I got straight up rejected from an art school and the art program at my top college. The college i'm going to doesn't require a portfolio and my grades helped me get in. I suck at art and it's frustrating as hell.

..but it's whatever..

🍫

19 notes · View notes

symphonicmetal101 · 3 years ago

Text

OBEY ME CHARACTERS AS DIFFERENT MONSTERS FROM AROUND THE WORLD HCS

These are sfw, and always will be on this blog.

ANYWAYS

I tried to write actual hcs but I just ended up saying "this is the monster and what it does", nothing super specific but Im too fucking tired to fix it now lmao

Also also, I did only a little bit of research due to the lack of time to motivation ratio I have, so PLEASE let me know if any of these hold cultural significance in that it would be offensive for me to use it this way. Its not intentional if it is, and I will change it as soon as I know. Thank you lovies.

Tw: alludes to death, blood, gore etc. Not of mc, just in nature of these creatures and what they do/look like, also the first two are the worst, I swear the rest are better lmao

Word Estimate: 1.2K bc I cant copy this entire doc on mobile to check

The Peuchen is a shapeshifter that makes a strange whistling sound before it attacks. It has the ability to strike fear into whoever looks it in the eyes, paralyzing them in order to drain their blood and take their heart without leaving a mark. The only way it can be eliminated is by the hand of a Mapuche medicine woman.

Lucifer- Peuchen (Mapuche/Chilean)

He loooves making his nest huge in a rocky outcropping. Its something he's very proud and protective of, so its actually built very well. It would have to be, seeing as literally anything shiny he comes across gets dumped into the nest. Has even more trouble remembering where he put stuff, but is quicker to recoginize faces. Whenever he gets pouty or flustered theres a sound like a paper fan being opened as he puffs his wings up.

Mammon- Harpy (Greek/Roman)(also yeah yeah ikik they're female in the myths but this is the only exception Ive made)

Levi- Baak (Assamese)

Baak are said to live in bodies of water, and they are shapeshifters, taking on the body of their last victim to journey on land and take their victims place in order to eliminate their entire family. However, some Baak merely play tricks on people, especially children, and thats moreso where Levi lies when he finally decides he wants to be percieved. Also only coming around when there are children reduces his chances of getting hurt or needing to fight. Keeping him at bay just takes a broken fishing net.

Satan- Erzhong Ren (耳中人) (Chinese)

(This monster was introduced in the second story of Liaozhai i.e. the critically acclaimed Qing Dynasty compilation of Chinese supernatural stories.

He's a tiny little ogre that lived in a scholars ear. Going off of this, he enjoys listening to and absorbing information, but doesnt want to run the risk of you/his "host" getting rid of him, so he stays in places that makes it difficult for you to do so. It also means...you HAVE to listen to his opinions.

Asmodeus- Gimuho (Korean)

Similar to the Kitsune, the Gimuho disguises itself as a woman (or just a generally attractive person) to make people fall in love with them. Once they fall in love with him, he devours their heart and other organs :D

Beelzebub- Gashadokuro (Japanese)

Gigantic skeletons formed by the amassed bones of people who died of starvation. They bite the heads off of travelers and drink their blood. They possess the ability to become invisible, and are indestructable, lasting as long as their malicious energy takes to run out. Kinda sounds like if Beel went on a rampage after falling...

Belphie- Bakhtak (Iranian)

It sits on your chest while you’re sleeping aiming to suffocate you to death. It has been depicted as a goblin, a stout heavy looking little man. He is the reason for your nightmares, shortness of breath, and more.

Diavolo- Ifrit (Islamic/Arabian)

Ok so, at its base, an Ifrit is very similar, if not a type, of demon. However I am still including it because I said I will. An ifrit is a powerful and (often though not always) malevolent supernatural being. Magic is the only thing that can overpower them. Although they are often depicted as malicious and ruthless, it is not always true. The ifrit live in complex societies, and will sometimes marry humans and live peacefully with them. They can appear in their truest form, of smokeless fire, or take on the appearance of animals or a human.

Barb - Domovoy (Russian)

A Domovoy is a small household spirit that is known for both causing mischief and assisting with household chores. It depends on how well you treat them. They are able to see into the future, and guard the family that dwells in the house. Sometimes it shows displeasure by causing grating noises or upsetting family pets, but is easily put back to rest with a loaf of bread or another small offering.

Mephistopheles - Dark Watcher (United States - specifically California)

They don’t bring harm or joy, merely ominous as they stand and watch you from a distance, silhouettes with circular eyes that glow a bit. In Mephistopheles case, he likes to observe people over the course of centuries, documenting the differences he notices as time passes.

Simeon - Hyter Sprites (English folklore? Norfolk?)

These sprites have been reported to help lost children return home after dark. It was mostly parents that would villianize them, but the sprites have never harmed the children they have brought home. (They also bring home and protect donkeys askljdhlksajdas) and encourage the children to behave for their parents afterwards.

Raphael- Lamassu (Sumerian)

The Lamassu was a symbol of an ox, eagle, human, and lion used to ward off bad spirits from entering ones home in the Mesopotamian period. It was also said the the Lamassu would reward heroes with many riches after completing missions.

Luke - Fastachee (Native American, did not find specifics)

Often depicted as a small dwarf or gnome like creature, the Fastachee shares corn and medicinal insight with humans. They also heal animals suffering from ailments. The Native American tribes would also share their insight with the Fastachee (Little Giver) and had a positive and respectful relationship with it.

Thirteen- Banshee (Irish)

The banshee is a female spirit said to appear preceding the death of a loved one. She will wail or shriek to warn family members of the coming disaster. Her physical appearance varies, but Thirteen specifically likes to appear as the figure as a young woman in the family that has already passed as a way to herald the death of another loved one.

Solomon- Rübezahl (German/Polish)

Rübezahl appears as a capricious giant, gnome, or mountain spirit. With decent people, he shows them magic/medicine and how to use the land around them. If someone has poor intentions and tricks him, he exacts revenge in an equal manner. In some folklore, he plays the role of a trickster.

If this flops I'll cry

I literally worked for months on this because of my brain being frustrating and trying to find to find things that fit, and some of them Im still not happy with. Yes, there are a few that could have better fitting monsters but by the time I found out about them, I had already written about another monster from the same country. So please be gentle is what Im trying to say djskdbskjs I DO NOT have the emotional energy to deal with asshats

Thank you bbs

Masterlist

132 notes · View notes

asthmark · 4 years ago

Text

❝ 10 things i know about you ❞ l.jn

synopsis → there are ten important things you learn about lee jeno during your time in quarantine.

request → “if you're still accepting requests, can u make a domestic roommate!jeno? 🥺🥺 thank you and have a nice dayyy”

word count → 7.1k (bruhhh)

sharing an apartment with lee jeno isn’t ideal.

it’s not that he’s a lousy roommate or that you disliked him in any way; you just didn’t know him. you had first met through a mutual friend. they knew jeno was looking for someone to split rent with and that you happened to need a place to stay. they promised you he would give you privacy and assured jeno you were excellent roommate material. with that, arrangements were made and soon enough you moved in together. of course, it was a bit awkward at first but you two eventually got used to each other’s presence. although you were never in the same room for too long and oftentimes went days without speaking, you coexisted.

for a long time, you only knew a couple things about your roommate. for example, you were aware of his strong love for cats, especially his pet calico, seol. you also knew he kept the freezer stocked with pizza rolls that he would use as energy when he stayed up all night playing video games.

what you didn’t know, however, was that you would be spending the next couple months locked in your apartment with him. on top of that, you would begin to learn more things about him—his life, his personality, his feelings.

there are ten important things you learn about lee jeno during your time in quarantine.

1. he’s a heavy sleeper.

at 10:28 in the morning you find yourself seated at the dining table in the kitchen, spooning froot loops into your mouth. as you stuff your face, you scroll through your phone for entertainment. you decide to open instagram first but you quickly find that to be a mistake. as soon as you open the app a picture of lucas and who you thought was his ex-girlfriend greets you. if that was bad, the caption hits you like a ton of bricks.

@lucas_xx444: should have never left you

in only five words, lucas has completely erased the months you spent dating. it meant nothing to him. sure, things hadn’t ended things the best way but going right back to his toxic ex and even admitting to missing her—now that was a new low. was this his way of getting back at you? his way of making you hurt just like he had throughout your entire relationship? the thought alone leaves you feeling sick.

you decide you’ve already had enough social media for one morning so you decide to check your messages instead. your friends usually left a couple of them overnight. to your surprise, you find that your main group chat has accumulated 241 messages.

[10:48 am] you: good morning i see u guys have been vry chatty

[10:49 am] yeji: ur finally awake!

[10:50 am] yuna: we thought u died lol

[10:50 am] lia: YUNA

[10:50 am] lia: NO

[10:51 am] ryujin: the timing for that joke could not be worse

[10:52 am] yuna: humor is my coping mechanism leave me alone

[10:52 am] you: ??? what happened

[10:53 am] chaeryeong: we left msgs for a reason dummy read them!!

[10:53 am] you: umm there’s over 200 and im not abouta read all that

[10:54 am] yuna: well then lemme break it down

[10:54 am] yuna: the world is ending :)

[10:55 am] you: welp it was about time

[10:55 am] lia: why r u guys like this

[10:56 am] yeji: there’s been a covid-19 outbreak and it’s spreading like wildfire so the government issued a stay at home order :/

[10:57 am] you: omg WHAT

[10:57 am] ryujin: ikr it’s crazy we literally can’t go anywhere

[10:57 am] chaeryeong: and we can’t get boba today either ;( i was so looking forward to that

[10:58 am] ryujin: let’s pls take a moment of silence for all the current and future boba dates that will have to be cancelled

[10:59 am] yuna: no way am i gonna let some wannabe flu make me go boba-less i’m still going out >:(

[10:59 am] lia: ...ur joking right

[10:59 am] yeji: what color casket do u want yuna?

before the groupchat can distract you any further, you place your phone down on the table. you sit back in your chair and let the newly revealed information sink in.

you were stuck inside.

you sigh before standing to clean your dishes. as you’re scrubbing away at your bowl, you feel something brush against your leg. you smile, not even having to look down to know it was seol. the cat would often wander into your room or sleep next to you when you watched tv on the couch. in fact, you were pretty sure you spent more time with seol than his owner.

you gaze at jeno’s room. as always, the door is shut. you wonder if you should let him know what was happening. you two usually kept your distance but you figured that the circumstance you found yourself in was an exception. you quickly dry your hand and shuffle towards his room.

you knock once, quite softly. you assume he’s asleep so you try again, this time a little harder. still, no avail. the third time you put even more force into it. by this time, seol has found his way beside you and claws at the door.

“jeno?” you knock a fourth time. “jeno! lee jeno!”

after more shouting accompanied by incessant meowing, you hear some muffled movement. moments later the door knob twists open and there stands your roommate with disheveled hair and a robe that had obviously just been thrown on his body. seol has taken the open crack in the door as an invitation inside the bedroom.

jeno blinks a couple times as he watches the feline get himself comfortable on his bed. he turns back to you, looking slightly disoriented. you’re not sure if he’s half asleep or your sudden presence has thrown him for a loop. his voice comes out raspy when he asks, “was he, um, bothering you or something?”

you shake your head, vigorously. “that’s not why i came. it’s just that my friends told me that there’s been some kind of virus outbreak and we’re supposed to stay home. so, i thought i’d let you know.”

his face softens. “oh, cool.” suddenly, the look changes. “not the virus thing! that’s totally not cool. i meant, it’s cool that you let me know and stuff. you just saved me a huge freak out so, uh, thank you.”

you smile and nod. “no problem.”

jeno’s eyes linger as you retreat back into your room down the hall. the sound of his door shutting is heard only once you’re out of his eyesight.

2. he can cook better than you.

most of the time, you would go out to eat dinner with your friends in the evenings or at least stop by a drive thru. obviously, this was no longer possible in the midst of a pandemic. you found that to be incredibly frustrating as you sat on your bed, stomach empty. no matter how badly you wished to fix it, your laziness had gotten the best of you. apart from that, you already knew how unlucky you were when it came to cooking—the memory of burning noodles at lia’s house one night had been permanently seared into your brain.

you almost believe your mind is playing tricks on you when you catch a whiff of pasta in the air. for a moment you think it’s your next door neighbor, taeyong, cooking again. you knew he was quite the chef. but, the smell is getting stronger by the second and you decide it must be in your apartment.

you wander into the kitchen, only to find jeno standing over the stove. he’s stirring red sauce in a pot when he notices you watching him.

“oh, hey,” he greets with a polite wave.

you can only stare at the rest of the kitchen—pots, pans, and ingredients all over the place—in utter awe.

he chuckles, awkwardly. “yeah, sorry about the mess. i’ve been told i’m a decent cook but i can never seem to get the tidiness down.”

“no, it’s not that. this just all seems so... professional.” you sniff the air once more. “smells amazing, too.”

he smiles, sheepishly. “thanks. are you a fan of spaghetti?”

you nod.

“good. i wanted to make something you’d like.”

“you really didn’t have to,” you say, leaning against the fridge. “i mean, i’ve never done anything for you.”

he uncovers a pot to check on the pasta. you watch as hot steam rises out of it. “what about this morning?”

you can’t help but laugh. “that most certainly does not count. you’re making an entire meal. that takes a lot of effort.”

he waves a hand, dismissively. “i used to cook a lot with my old roommate, doyoung. the guy was an asian gordon ramsey, i swear. so, yeah, this is nothing too crazy. and i really do enjoy it.”

“well, i’m still gonna repay you.” you fold your arms.

he looks away from his dish to raise a brow. “is that so?”

you nod in confirmation. “definitely.”

“tell you what, if you wash the mountain of dishes that are gonna be left over, we’ll be even.”

you stare at the sink that’s already overflowing with dirty kitchen tools. that wasn’t even half of it. “uh, sure, sounds good.”

he laughs at hearing the uncertainty in your voice. “that’s the spirit.”

3. he’s allergic to cats.

the familiar sound of soft purring is what pulls you attention away from the movie playing on your laptop. already knowing exactly who it is, you launch yourself off your bed to allow your furry guest inside.

“hey seol. what’ve you been up to?”

the calico meows, almost as if he were responding to your question. you close your door and go back to your original position. you notice seol sitting directly in front of your bed, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“come on up.” you pat your sheets, invitingly.

he obeys and stretches before laying down beside you.

“have you ever watched ‘avengers’?” you ask, eyes going back to the explosive fight scene on the screen.

this time, seol doesn’t even bother humoring you with a meow. he stays silent with his head tucked into his paws.

you scratch his head and his tail wiggles. “i’ve gotta stop asking you questions.”

both you and seol’s heads snap towards the door when you hear a knock.

“come in!” you call out.

jeno swings open the door. his eyes briefly scan the room before landing on the furball on your bed. the unmistakable look of adoration shines in his eyes when he sees how lovingly you caress him.

“seol! what are you doing in here? bothering y/n?” the cat jumps off your bed and towards his owner standing in your doorway. jeno scoops him into his arms and faces you. “i’m so sorry. he saw me running a bath for him and bolted.”

“it’s all good. he’s a great movie buddy. besides, i could always use the company.”

jeno curiously glances at your computer screen. “is that ‘avengers’?”

“yep. i’ve seen it like a dozen times.”

“same here.“ he pauses. “hey, if you ever need a movie buddy—like you know, one that talks—just let me know.”

your face lights up. “i’m gonna hold you to that.”

”i hope so. well, if you’ll excuse me, i’ve gotta give this guy a bath.”

seol yowls as if he understands the meaning behind the words and attempts to escape jeno’s grip.

“here we go again,” he mumbles under his breath.

you snicker at the sight. “looks like you could use some help.”

“oh, no. it’s fine. he can just be a little bratty someti—seol!”

in the blink of an eye, the feline has successfully hopped out of his arms and made a run for it.

jeno gives you an exasperated look before rushing off to catch his runway pet. you find yourself caught up in the excitement so you follow him, the two of you now in pursuit of the calico. you’re sure the image of you both chasing the fluffy animal around the apartment looks like something straight out of a comedy. even you and jeno can’t contain your laughter when he finally catches seol only for him to slip out of his hold a second later. this exact situation repeats itself a couple times before you finally get lucky.

“i got him!” you screech. “jeno! oh my god! what do i do?”

“bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!” he chants in response.

you head in that direction with jeno trailing behind you, ready to catch seol if he somehow manages to get out of your death grip. you bend over the bathtub, slowly lowering the cat into the water. it’s clear he doesn’t have a problem with making a fuss as he wails and flails his limbs around.

after a while, he finally calms down enough that you can lather him in shampoo. jeno insists on scrubbing him, arguing that you had already done way too much. you sit back on your heels, observing the way the seol leans into his delicate touches.

“looks like he likes it now.”

“he likes to make a big deal but he ends up enjoying it every—“ jeno cuts himself off with a sneeze.

“tissue?” you offer.

he shakes his head. “that’s okay, thanks. i’m used to it. i’m just surprised my allergies haven’t acted up ‘til now.”

“allergies?” you echo.

“yeah, i’m allergic to—“ another sneeze. “cats.”

your eyes widen. “really? and you still have seol?”

“i could never get rid of him. he’s too good of a boy. isn’t—“ sneeze. “that right?” he tickles seol under his chin.

“wow. you must really love him.”

“so much.”

“he’s lucky to have you.”

“what about you? you get both of us. doesn’t that make you the luckiest?”

you snort. “i guess it does.”

4. he makes a good shopping buddy.

“i have officially cooked everything we have.”

“i can order some takeout, if you want?”

he juts his lower lip out and gives you puppy eyes. “but i like to cook for you.”

you laugh at his expression. “oh god, you look like that one pouty emoji people use when they try to be cute.”

he sits up. “did it work?”

you nod and pinch his cheek.

he yelps. “ah, stop! you’re acting like my grandma!” he manages to get out of your grasp. he rubs his face, soothing the spots you had squeezed. “seriously, though, we really do need to stock up on food.”

“i’ve already been looking into it.” you show him the screen of your phone. “says here you can still go shopping as long as you wear a mask and try to stay six feet away from other shoppers.”

he cringes. “i don’t know if i like the idea of being so close to so many people.”

“i can go by myself, then,” you suggest with a shrug.

he doesn’t hesitate to deny you. “no way are you going alone.” his possessive tone has you staring at him curiously so he adds, “you know, in case you can’t reach something on the top shelf.”

the teasing comment paired with his innocent smile makes you gasp in disbelief. “lee jeno! that’s low! and to think i almost thought you were worried about me.”

“who said i wasn’t?” he smiles at you again before standing up. “i’m going to find us some masks and then we can head out.”

once you arrive at your local grocery store, you find it to be packed. everyone seems to be in a hurry, grabbing things left and right.

“wow, it’s already gotten crazy,” jeno mumbles, stopping to stare at the flood of people that rush by.

you don’t hesitate to scold him. “well, don’t just stand there! we gotta get our stuff before there’s nothing left!”

without another word you slip into the frenzy of people. jeno struggles to stay behind you. after almost losing sight of you a couple times, he walks a little faster to catch up and places his arm firmly around your waist once he does. you look up at him, your mask covering your slightly agape mouth.

being the gentleman he is, he apologizes. “sorry but i don’t want us to get separated.”

you can only nod and mumble, “good idea.”

jeno pushes the shopping cart with his right hand and holds your figure with his left. once in a while, you’ll break apart from each other to grab an item you need but once it’s in the cart, he’ll make sure you end up in the same position. after an hour or so, you’ve grabbed enough and you decide it’s time to pay.

despite the mask she has on, you can tell the middle-aged woman behind the cash register has a big smile on her face once she catches sight of you and your roommate.

“well, just look at you two.” she sighs. “how cute.”

“oh.” you glance at her then jeno then her again. “oh, no. it’s not like that.”

you attempt to move yourself away from jeno only to find his grip to be so incredibly strong that you almost begin to think he’s trying to hold you in place. once you finally detach yourself from him, you begin loading your groceries onto the counter for the employee to scan. she does so, but not before giving you a displeased look.

“oh really? he holds you like that because you aren’t together?”

jeno assists her in placing the scanned items in bags. “i didn’t want to lose her.”

she pauses scanning a can of tuna to stare him down. “darling, that sounds like a line from a cheesy hallmark rom-com.”

you can’t help but chuckle. “what he means is that there’s a lot of people here and we didn’t want to get separated.”

jeno adds, “desperate times calls for desperate measures.”

the woman adjusts her glasses. “well, you do certainly seem desperate to have her close to you.”

jeno doesn’t say a word as he continues bagging but his smile reaches his eyes.

5. he works out.

why did the pandemic have to hit in the middle of summer?

you often asked yourself this, complaining about how inconvenient it was. especially on the days that made your apartment feel like it was on fire. the days that required a thin tank top and shorts. even then, you found yourself to be drenched in sweat.

you sprawled your arms and legs farther on the sofa, the leather material proving to be very uncomfortable. it was either that or your bed with the warm cotton sheets that stuck to your body. just thinking about it brings you discomfort. the only relief you could think of was a cold shower. you would have already taken one if jeno hadn’t been hogging the one bathroom in the apartment.

“jeno!” you yell.

silence; other than the sound of the water running.

“lee jeno!”

the water stops, temporarily for him to shout back an answer. “what?!”

you wipe at the sweat that has accumulated on the bridge of your nose. “hurry up! i’m melting!”

the water starts back up again and you groan. hoping to distract yourself, you pull out your phone. the group chat with your friends is surprisingly silent so you go to instagram for some entertainment. this time, your ex-boyfriend’s post isn’t the first thing you see. it takes you some scrolling but you do end up seeing another one of his pictures.

it’s simply two intertwined hands with a black and white filter. you identify the one on the left as his and although you aren’t as familiar with the one on the right, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it belongs to. contrary to the last, this photo has no cheesy words for a caption, just a red heart.

but, your stomach doesn’t drop. you don’t feel hurt, either. obviously, you still don’t enjoy seeing him just because of all the awful memories that came with it but other than that, you feel unaffected by the image.

in fact, you feel so confident in yourself that you block him.

you’re surprised you hadn’t done it sooner. you had known you didn’t need him in your life any longer so why keep in contact? you feel like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders when you press the red button that would keep him and his girlfriend out of your life. you knew with your whole heart that you didn’t need to see either of them.

before, a bit if you had felt the need to keep an eye on him. to see how he was handling the breakup and torture yourself with the fact that he didn’t seem to care. now, you could say you truly didn’t either. you didn’t need him or his stupid pictures. you had other, better things.

your friends.

your cat (yes, you considered seol to be yours).

your roommate.

you had to admit, jeno was the best thing on that list. quarantine had brought you and him significantly closer and you were over the moon about it. he was so wonderful that you kicked yourself for having lived with him for so long without ever really getting to know him. but it was easy to say you two were making up for lost time seeing as you spent every waking moment together. the record long showers jeno took being an exception, of course.

the moment the door to the bathroom opens, you rush into your room and quickly grab an oversized t-shirt and loose pajama pants to change into after your shower. you nearly drop them when you’re met with jeno’s soaking figure in the hallway.

his hair is damp and you can clearly see how long it had become. his skin looks healthy and moisturized, lotion among other skin care products had probably been applied. what really has you in a shock is the fact that the towel barely hangs below his waist. the droplets of water that fall from his hair and down his neck trail down his chest and toned torso towards the only area he has bothered to cover up. his bulky arms are also slightly wet, his veins popping noticeably. he shakes his head in an attempt to rid his hair of any water. then he runs his fingers through it, his muscles flexing ever so slightly as he does so.

“dude!” you exclaim, without a second thought. “you’re ripped!”

he smiles, his round cheeks growing at the unexpected praise. the way he could have such a rugged body but soft-featured face puzzled you to no extent. “thank you. i lift sometimes.”

“sometimes?” you repeat. “don’t be so humble! you’re basically hercules!”

he clicks his tongue. “ah, c’mon. i’m just an athletic person.”

you keep admiring his physique. “clearly.”

“oh god,” he groans, obviously flustered. “you’re looking at me like you’re gonna eat me or something.”

you hold yourself back from making a less than appropriate innuendo. “no comment.”

his eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “quarantine is really making you go crazy.”

you point a finger at him. “you try being stuck inside with your hot roommate!”

“trust me, y/n, i know all about hot roommates.”

you tilt your head, acting purposefully oblivious. “are you talking about doyoung?”

“what? no i—“ he sighs. “you know what, just take your shower.”

6. you can’t say no to him.

jeno ruffles his black locks with his hand and frowns.

you give him a disappointed look. “knock it off, you’re gonna get dandruff in your soup.”

he ignores your comment. “i look like a hobo.”

you pause, spoon halfway to your mouth. “this i know.”

“y/n, this is serious!”

“okay, okay. what’s the issue?”

“i already told you! i’m a bum!”

“you? a bum?” you pause to think about it. “i mean, mentally? maybe. but physically? no.”

“my hair, though. it’s so long.” he grabs a strand of it and pulls it to emphasize his point.

you shrug. “if having lots of hair is the standard for being a bum, i think most of the population is.”

“i want to cut it,” he announces.

“you should,” you say, pointing your spoon at him. “wanna know why? because if you mess up, no one will ever know. other than me, of course. but if you pay me enough i’ll let you forget it.”

he smiles at the joke for a moment before he leans forward and his face goes serious. “will you help me?”

“what? no way. i’ll mess up. and it’s only funny if you do it.”

he pouts. “please?”

you stir your soup around. “just watch some youtube videos. after three, you’re automatically a professional.”

“i want you.”

the statement has your neck snapping up from your bowl to him. the smug grin on his face lets you know that he was well aware of the double meaning behind his words. it was clear he was trying to fluster you enough to get a yes.

“you think you’re flirty enough to straight up brainwash me into doing stuff?”

“well, i wanted to say that to you anyway but... kind of?”

you feel a smile creep onto your lips at hearing the genuine tone in his voice. you down your last few spoonfuls of soup and quickly stand up. jeno looks up at you, eyes hopeful.

“finish your dinner. get the scissors. meet me in the bathroom.”

not even ten minutes later, jeno practically dances into the bathroom, a pair of red craft scissors in his hand. he sits on top of the toilet lid, figuring that’d be the easiest way for you to reach him. you walk in moments later.

“i’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be using these types of scissors for hair,” he mumbles as he hands you the sharp utensil.

you twirl them in your hand. “oh, definitely not. do you want to wait then?”

he shakes his head, his shaggy bangs swaying with the movement.

“alright, let’s get this going then.” you thread your hands through his thick locks to collect some of it in between two of your fingers. you bring the scissors forward and snip the small amount just to test the waters.

you slowly begin to get more comfortable and once you feel like you’re in your element, things begin to speed up. you move and cut faster but with efficiency. you do the spots on the back of his head and work your way forward. when it finally comes time to touch up his bangs, your small bathroom proves to be an inadequate spot to be doing this.

you end up standing balanced inches above jeno’s thighs that he’s pressed together tightly in an attempt to give you more room. you’re constantly readjusting your stance and when he notices, his hands go to your hips. you know he’s just trying to help you stay upright so you do a decent job but you still inhale sharply at the feeling of his hands on you.

not long after, you’re standing next to jeno as he inspects himself in the mirror. his fingers flick his newly shortened bangs around.

“not bad.” he tilts his head in a new angle and nods. “looks super good to me.”

you tuck the scissors into your back pocket with a relieved sigh. “oh thank god. i didn’t want to tell you before we started but i only watched two youtube tutorials on trimming hair.”

he runs a hand through his hair with a chuckle. “now that’s truly worthy of praise. and a tip.”

you raise a brow. “oh yeah? what’s th—“

he cuts you off by pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. he pulls back and drags his thumb over the skin that has come into contact with his lips. “thanks again.” with that, he leaves you standing in the bathroom, eyes wide and face warm.

7. he has six best friends.

“can i borrow your laptop?” asks jeno, from outside your door, nearly breathless.

you look up from your book. “uh yeah, sure.”

he rushes in your room and takes the item off of your dresser. “do you happen to have zoom on it?”

you shake your head and he groans. without another word, he disappears, running off into the living room. you hear his frustrated sighs as the minutes pass and he attempts to download the application. you finally decide to go check it out once it becomes too much to bear.

“it sounds like you’re in pain over here,” you comment.

he runs a hand through his hair. “i’m supposed to meet with my friends through a zoom call but it’s so complicated.”

you put a hand on your hip. “bet you five bucks i’ll be able to get it in five minutes.”

“are you kidding? i might be technologically challenged but i’m not stupid. i know you can do it fast, just help me out already, would you?”

“alright, grandpa.”

you type and click away at the screen, jeno watching you do so, entranced but equally as lost.

“well, i was wrong,” you say after a couple moments, leaning back in your chair.

“you couldn’t get it?” asks jeno, worriedly.

“no, it’s not that.” you click something on the screen and the app opens. “turns out i could do it in three.”

he rolls his eyes and shoos you out of the chair. he sits down and enters the code and password for the zoom meeting. it takes a minute, but he finally connects. you count six other people in the call. they all immediately cheer at seeing jeno and you hear them excitedly exclaim his name.

“hey guys,” he says, a smile already reaching his eyes. “it’s so good to see your faces.”

they all nod to agree. you get a good look at each one of them and realize they’re all boys. your eyes read over each of their display names.

mark me in ur heart

hyuckie~~~

moomin enthusiast

nananananana

chnele

lil huddy

“nice name, jeno,” ‘moomin enthusiast’ guy comments, snickering slightly. “glad to see you finally came to terms with it.”

‘jenojam’, his name reads. the rest of the group laughs, also teasing him about it. you assume it’s some kind of inside joke.

the self proclaimed ‘lil huddy’ furrows his eyebrows. “wait, did you choose that name yourself?”

jeno simply nods in response.

he glares into the camera. “donghyuck, you told me i had to put this as my name or else it wouldn’t let me connect!”

donghyuck—or ‘hyuckie~~~’, you presume—shrugs. “oops. guess i was wrong.”

you laugh at the humorous exchange. it seems like the sound has drawn some attention to you when ‘nananananana’ speaks up, eyes trained on you.

“um jeno? don’t you want to introduce your guest?”

jeno beams, dragging you closer into the frame. “i’m sure you all know about my roommate. say hi, y/n.”

you do so, waving and smiling politely at the group.

“you know, even though we used to always hang at jeno’s, i don’t think we’ve ever actually seen your face,” ‘chnele’ says, tilting his head.

you agree. “me neither. i’ve mostly just heard you guys.”

the ‘mark me in your heart’ boy sheepishly rubs his neck. “sorry. we tend to be a little loud.”

‘chnele’ lets out a high pitched screech of a laugh. “only a little?”

“i recognize that laugh!” you blurt. “i would hear it all the time!”

”that’s our little dolphin,” coos ‘hyuckie~~~’.

“oh god, stop. i hate that stupid nickname.”

“it’s well deserved.”

“i think you should apologize to y/n for being a nightmare to her eardrums.”

“and ours, for that matter.”

“what about all your little freestyles? i’ve had to sit through hundreds of them and i never got an apology!”

“because they’re not bad! could you do any better?”

“you’re a soundcloud rapper, i think anyone could.”

jeno turns to you as the bickering on screen gets louder and louder. “this is gonna be a long call.”

once the group has moved on from roasting the life out of each other, you’re able to engage in some good-natured conversation. jeno teaches you the names and the other basics about the group. some points that stand out about the group is that mark is the oldest, renjun specializes in contemporary dance, jaemin inhales six cups of coffee on the daily, and chenle is insanely rich.

“what about jeno?” you ask them. “anything i should know about him?”

“he’s allergic to cats but the idiot still adopted—“

“she already knows about that, renjun,” jeno chuckles.

“oh. well. that’s pretty much the only interesting thing about him.”

jisung pipes up. “oh wait! he works out religiously too!”

you and jeno share a look. you burst into laughter and he simply glances away, slightly embarrassed. “oh yeah, i know that all too well.”

“and what about the unhealthy cooking obsession?”

you nod at mark’s question. “that too. he cooks dinner almost every night around here.”

renjun purses his lips. “he already cooks for you? wow. he must really like you.”

“you think?” jaemin asks. “didn’t you read any of the messages in the group chat? he’s practically in love with her. his words, not mi—“

“okay! i think it’s time for us to go! bye guys!” jeno doesn’t even give you a chance to say your own goodbye before he’s clicking the ‘end call’ button in the bottom right corner.

you give him a confused look. “what was that all about?”

“they’re crazy.” he laughs. “well, if you need me i’ll be in my room screaming into my pillow for the next couple hours.” he dashes off leaving you standing alone, trying to comprehend what had happened.

8. he‘s a great listener.

jeno has officially replaced seol as your movie buddy, not that you have a problem with it. you thought it was nice to have someone you could actually converse with but of course, you make sure seol still sits in.

“what i’m saying is that iron man just wants to protect his team.”

“well, if they sign the accords, they basically surrender themselves to the government.”

“and?”

“you don’t see a problem with that? see, captain america knows what he’s doing. he’s literally an avenger—“

“so is iron man!”

“let me finish! so, he’s an avenger, right? he has the best judgment because he’s saved the world countless times. he knows how to operate his team and do the right thing.”

“okay but there’s casualties. and that’s what iron man is trying to fix.”

“how do you save the world and not have casualties?”

“you just—“ your phone rings mid argument and you raise your finger towards jeno. “this isn’t over.” you put the phone to your ear, not bothering to check the caller id. “hello?”

“sweetheart?”

you feel a chill go up your spine. was it him? no, it couldn’t be. you had blocked his number shortly after you did so on all your social media.

“baby, don’t be so shy. i know you’re there.”

you can’t hold back. “please don’t call me that.”

he chuckles, breathlessly. “oh, c’mon. you used to love it. you still do.”

“no, i don’t. actually, i don’t want to hear your stupid pet names or stupid voice or see any of your stupid posts. just go bother your girlfriend and leave me alone.”

you notice jeno perk up beside you out of the corner of your eye. he must have been caught off guard by your irritated tone.

as always, lucas is unaffected by you. “i’m being nice and giving you a second chance. i even called you behind soyeon’s back.”

“is that something i’m supposed to reward you for?” you scoff. “congratulations, you’re now awful, toxic, and a cheater.”

he growls. the sound was familiar. in your relationship, if you heard it you knew he was going to snap at you until he had the satisfaction of making you cry. “i know you miss me so don’t say things you’re going to regret later. because even when you’re back in my arms, i won’t let you forget it.”

the thought of being back with him made you feel icky. but the fact that he sincerely thought you would crawl back to him set your entire body on fire. “are you joking? i was always aware of the fact that you treated me like the dirt you walked on but do you seriously think that lowly of me?”

you’re rendered speechless and apparently, so is he because the other line stays silent.

“i wouldn’t go back to you if you were the last person on earth,” you spit. “you treated me horribly, wong yukhei. i won’t ever forget it. move on. i have.”

you glance at jeno, his expression more serious than you’ve ever seen it. his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are trained on your cellphone. the glare he gives the device is so strong you wouldn’t be surprised if even lucas could feel it, wherever he was.

you hang up and block the number, wishing to never talk to him again. you toss your phone onto the sofa with an exasperated sigh. you find jeno’s gaze to still be focused intensely on it.

“if you gave lucas that look, i’m pretty sure he’d cry.”

he breaks his concentration, eyes going to you instead. his entire face softens. “all i’m going to say is he better pray we never cross paths.”

“well, if you happen to, call me up. i wouldn’t mind helping you beat the crap out of him.”

jeno chuckles for a second then lowers his voice to a whisper. “he was really bad to you, huh?”

you nod. “he messed me up. i hate to admit it ‘cause i know i was stupid to stay with him for as long as i did.”

your roommate shakes his head. “don’t say that. it’s not your fault he messed up the best thing that would ever happen to him.”

“i thought i was the problem for so long, jeno. i was so blinded by love. then, i realized there was no way he truly cared for me when he treated me like i had no heart to be broken.”

jeno scoots towards you and rubs soothing circles into your arm. “you have such a big heart. and i can’t tell you how sorry i am that he took advantage of that. i’m sorry that you were stuck with someone so insecure and ignorant. please, don’t think about him anymore.”

you hold in your tears. you refused to cry over someone like lucas. “i know. i try so hard not to.”

jeno holds your head into his chest. his arms are placed securely on your back. “oh, baby.”

when jeno uses this pet name on you, it feels so completely different from lucas. you could tell me meant it. he wasn’t using it to make you stay a little longer, to assure you he loved you. strangely enough, you do not need to be convinced of that. you feel like you have known it for a long time.

9. he likes to be the big spoon.

you’re not sure how he’s done it but you end up falling asleep in jeno’s arms. you assume it had been so long since you had been cradled and rocked so delicately that the foreign yet extremely delightful sensation knocked you right out. even seol is deep in sleep, laying down peacefully at your feet.

you relish in the feeling of jeno pressed right into your back. he fits so perfectly against you that it reminds you of a puzzle piece. to be exact, the moment when you connect the last two pieces and the full picture becomes complete. that was how you felt—complete.

with jeno’s soft breaths tickling the back of your neck and his soft snores filling your ear, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. his arm that is wrapped around you makes sure you can’t escape his embrace. you are positive that even if you had the liberty of doing so, you would stay exactly where you were.

you lean farther back into your pillow, closing your eyes. you let every thought fade away as you try to fall back asleep as soon as possible. you wanted the moment you found yourself in to last as long as possible.

10. he has feelings for you.

jeno mumbles sweet nothings into your ear as he toys with your hair.

it just seemed right to him. like something he was meant to do with you. he had seen these types of things in films and shows before. it was intimate and touching, the scenes were always meant to tug at the audience’s heart strings and show how in love the two characters were. perhaps, even though you lay asleep in his arms, he wants you to finally know.

“honestly, being inside with you all the time is kind of the best. i know the whole virus situation is less than ideal but being able to spend so much time with you... that’s all i could ask for.” he pauses. “isn’t it so crazy how before this we were all weird and awkward around each other? well, i guess we still kind of are. that’s mostly my fault so... sorry. i just don’t know how to act around you sometimes. we’re barely getting close and i’m already this attached to you. as jisung would so kindly say, ‘i’m simping’.” he chuckles to himself. “all jokes aside, i really do like you. ever since you moved in here all cute and nervous, you’ve taken your own little place in my heart, as cheesy as it sounds. and these past few weeks, you just keep on taking up more and more room in there. not that i have a problem with it. i just...” he stops as if he doesn’t know how else to express his feelings. “really, really like you.”

“thanks.”

you feel him jolt then abruptly stop stroking your hair. there’s silence until he asks, “you don’t happen to be a sleep talker, do you?”

you shake your head.

“and did you hear like, a lot of what i said?”

“only the important stuff. like how awkward you are and how much you like me.”

“o-oh.”

“but don’t worry. it’s mutual.”

you feel his relieved breath hit the skin of your neck. “that’s the best thing i’ve heard all day.”

you tilt your head back and stare at him, confused. “what, did you seriously think i wasn’t into you?”

he shrugs. “i was too busy simping, i guess.”

you can’t contain your laughter at the use of the slang. “park jisung would not be proud.”

4K notes · View notes

barzzal · 4 years ago

Text

between halls and thin walls → part four

summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros

note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3

“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly.

“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him.

“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort. What a shame.

You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.

The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves.

He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface.

You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple.

“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him.

You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.

“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically.

“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him.

“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was.

“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe.

“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice.

“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.”

You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.”

And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.”

“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.

“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly.

“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing.

On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”

“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”

You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”

He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.

“We can do both.” he bobs his all too fine brows.

He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.

You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.

For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally.

Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other.

“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table.

“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.

You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse.

“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple.

“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.

Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say, “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end.

Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.

“Haul ass, buddy.”

𖥸

10:15 PM

Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude.

The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.

It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father.

“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks.

“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident.

“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh.

“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”

“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said.

Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.

“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”

“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”

“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.

“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him.

“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him.

Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes.

Long enough to get sick of each other.

He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”

A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.

Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights.

Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute.

“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth.

You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”

Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.”

You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other.

“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”

“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”

Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”

He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”

You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini.

Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake.

Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink.

Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her.

“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?”

By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with.

“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought.

She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?”

“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

What’s so funny?

Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?”

She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.

“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.”

Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.

Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention.

“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her.

The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds.

He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky.

She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips.

Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self. And he was beginning to question it.

There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events. No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself.

“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?”

Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger.

He hums, “Sure.”

Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated.

“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends.

You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was.

“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.

“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin.

You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting.

“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask.

“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman.

Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look.

A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next.

“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet.

Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was.

“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.

Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie.

“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions.

“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?”

Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?”

You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him.

“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was? Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”

Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”

“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away.

Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet.

“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm.

“What’s up?” she innocently asks.

“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid.

“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood.

“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.”

He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.”

Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter.

“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind.

“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal.

“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face.

There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.

“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle.

River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”

Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.

“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”

“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn��t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.

“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts.

What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.

“What?”

“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?”

“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”

“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.”

“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”

“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.”

“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete.

“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself.

“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.

River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.

“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”

River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.

“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.

“So you used to date her?” the old man asks.

“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.”

With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”

Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”

“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.

“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?”

He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.

“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.

Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”

River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin.

“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.

“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies.

Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”

With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.

“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did.

“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him.

“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said.

“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.

“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.

“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue.

As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”

“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.”

“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?”

“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him.

“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch.

“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side.

The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you.

As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship.

Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.

Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.

𖥸

After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.

Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention.

“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?”

Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”

He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Just curious.” you simply say.

He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains.

You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.”

“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”

“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.

But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner.

When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you.

“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”

“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.

“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.

Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.”

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”

He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”

Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.

“You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task.

“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”

He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin.

“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one.

“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you.

“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”

The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second.

Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.

You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”

“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were.

Just as she is.

𖥸

You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.

You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition.

As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance.

“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.

You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.”

“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you.

“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”

Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude.

Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.

“I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says.

“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”

As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze.

“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk.

“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.

A quiet smile parts from his lips.

“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift.

But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog.

“What the hell is going on here?”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey smut #letters to barzy #barzzal imagines

357 notes · View notes

lunaekalenda · 4 years ago

Note

Hi can I request Levi x fem!reader where reader comes in Levi’s office and she wants attention.Maybe she is making signs for attention but he is just ignoring her just doing his paperwork and when she says that she wants attention and misses him he gives her what she wants.If u like the idea can u make much fluff please?Btw I am obsessed with your fics and hc especially the one with the baby i can’t stop reading it😩💕

ofc!! <3 thank you so much for your words omg! i hope you like it! 💖 also im living for fluffy things

❁ levi x fem!reader

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

You knocked twice on Levi's office, at home. He has been working there since early, when he left the bed with a vague kiss on your forehead, even when you clinged to his waist.

"Don't leave"

He let out a little laugh and kissed you again before leaving. And he has been closed there since then. You miss him. He has been working day and night all the week, and you didn't expect him to do the same on saturdays. But there he is, telling you to come in, his desk full of papers. You walk towards him, and he elevates his gaze a bit from the papers. You put the cup of tea you made for him on the desk.

"Thanks." he says, looking again to the papers. You look to the papers he's reading. You wanted all that work to disappear, you just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend, you've missed him both physically and mental. You just want his arms around you and his lips against your skin, while you sit on his lap and he caresses your waist. You walk around his office quietly, admiring the pics of you two he has in a near table. You smile, and he curses on low voice, searching a paper.

"Do you need help?" you ask, being again behind him. Levi takes the paper and writes down on it. You keep looking around, refusing to exit your man's office. He looks at you for a second.

"You can leave. I'll be out for dinner." he says. "You're probably bored here." You shake your head.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to know how my boyfriend is while he works." you say. He nods slowly, his elegant and long fingers taking the tea cup close to his mouth. You look blushed how his Adam's apple goes up and down with every swallow. He leaves the cup on the desk and keeps looking at the papers. His gaze moves fast between all the numbers written there. You go behind his chair again.

You know you shouldn't disturb him while he's working, but you're so needy for him... He leaves the bed early and comes back when you're already sleeping. Even when you feel his arms around your waist and his lips against your body, you need to be awake, to spend time with him. He's also tired, so you want him to feel better. You put both of your hands on his shoulders, softly. He sighs, letting his body rest against the chair, near to your touch. His head against your belly. Everything's in silence, just his breath and yours can be heard in the room. One of your hands move to his neck, his clavicle, and up to his cheek. He takes your hand on his, pulling it to his lips and kissing it softly. Then, he sighs again, and starts working again.

"Thanks, y/n." he says. He drinks a bit more of tea. You feel childish but you want, no, you need him. So, you look at him, your eyes fixed on his. He looks at you, an eyebrow raising quietly.

"What do you need?" he asks. You blush.

"Can we cuddle?" you ask. Levi looks at you, static, for a second, but when you're about to leave his office and spend the afternoon watching some tv shows, you hear his chair being dragged, and he separates from the table. He palms his lap, indicating you to sit on him. You walk towards him and sit, hugging his neck. His arms are naturally posed on your waist, and his face is buried on your neck. You feel how his lips leave soft kisses on your skin.

Levi wasn't a huge fan of physical contact, he wasn't even the type of guy who holds your hand, but lately he has been as clingy as you, specially since you two have no time alone to spend.

"You smell so nice..." he says. Your hair is soft, and you have just took a bubble bath while waiting for him. You caress his hair, pressing his head soflty against you. His lashes make tickles on your neck and his breath is hot against your skin.

The way he's holding your body, so delicate, so close to his, his hands caressing you like you're made of glass, how his head searched naturally a place on your neck, and how his lips trace ways of kisses, so natural.

That's what you build with him. That level of intimacy, love, respect and tenderness. How he enjoys your closeness and you love his body next to you, even if he's just sitting with his hand on your thigh. How he's used to make two cups of tea or how you prepare a bath for two. How that little things count that much, how you can't imagine a life without the other.

"I love you so much." you whisper quietly. His hands keep caressing your waist. Outside, some tiny raindrops are falling. His head moves affectionately against you.

"I love you even more." he says. The way you two don't need words to demostrate the other how much you love, how intense it is, is amazing. You search his face with your hands, and, quietly leaning towards him, you make your lips collide with his. Soflty and slow, no needing to rush. You two know that. You enjoy better his lips moving soflty on yours, making your body and soul melt, making you wanting more of him. And, he smiles.

The way you feel his smile against your mouth is the oxygen you need to keep breathing. The representation of his joy making you smile as well. His hand now exploring part of your body: your stomach, your legs, your waist... His love is so pure. He just wants to protect you and hug you and kiss you and treasure you. If the decision was his, he would throw all this papers and spend all the day with you, but he needs to work. He needs to give you the life he promised when you moved together.

He keeps kissing you, little kisses on your lips that make you want more. His fine hands are inside your t-shirt now, caressing your soft and warm skin in a intimate way. Another kiss, even when you try to speak, he's so addicted to you he can't stop for a bit.

"Can't you work on Monday, hm?" you ask, between his kisses. He buries his head on the crook of your neck once more, giving open mouthed kisses. You take his head again and make him look at you, with both of your thumbs caressing his cheeks. He sighs, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb after you parted for air after a new kiss.

"I can't. I have to give this to Erwin on Monday morning." he says. You snuggle up against him, and he takes his hands again to his desk. knowing he has to keep working. On Sunday, he'll be all yours.

"Can I stay here while you work?" he hums in agreement.

"I'll be honored to have your here, baby."

He keeps working with your body on his. He gives you random kisses on your forehead, and you give him sweet neck kisses on response. His body is warm and comfortable, and you help him with things you know, even if they are not much. He promises you to take a bath together and a cup of tea right when he finishes.

"And then I'll make dinner and we can cuddle a bit in bed, do you want to?" you ask. Levi smiles sweetly, giving you another forehead kiss, knowing you want to kiss him more and more.

"Of course. As you wish."

#aot fluff #aot x reader #snk fluff #snk x reader #snk fic #aot fic #aot scenario #aot fanfiction #snk headcanons #aot #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi #levi attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi x reader #snk levi #levi aot #levi x you #levi ackerman

241 notes · View notes

haztory · 4 years ago

Text

𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. (1)

--iwaizumi hajime x f!reader; fake/pretend dating, mutual pining, third year characters, confident/no-nonsense reader, puppet master oikawa, ocassional cursing, other than that no warnings!

--summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was more than content to not be at the receiving end of the hordes of fangirl's attention.

But when they all suddenly devote their time and love to him, he can't help but quickly want an out. It's Oikawa's suggestion- a good one at that. Get a girlfriend to scare them off.

And what better than use you, Iwaizumi's best friend with a long standing crush on him, to play the role.

a/n: this is my first haikyuu fic! i did not expect it to be about iwa considering im a huge daichi simp, but that’s what listening to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani and browsing through pinterest does to the brain, ig. please let me know if any characters are too ooc, as im still trying to get them down.

other than that, enjoy! messages are always appreciated.

(w.c. 4836)

masterlist | next chapter

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, the entire female student body deduces with fanatic agreement one blessed afternoon. His shoulders are broad, skin rippling like waves breaking on rocks under the movement of his muscles. His stomach is firm and taut with the lining of his abs and his pectorals are considerably large enough to have every single girl in attendance foam at the mouth. And as he raises one— bulging — arm to wave sheepishly to the widened eyes of the crowd, his thick and veiny hand on full display, a collective moan is heard throughout the building. It has the poor boy ducking his head downward even further.

The fundraiser arranged to cover the expenses of the volleyball team’s traveling to away games exceeded its initial goal (that of which the all-female led student council was greatly responsible for) resulting in the entire team parading themselves around the cafeteria as a reward for the students’ commitment to the task.

Shirtless.

And while attention from the female population has usually always been paid to the star setter, Oikawa Tooru and all of his addicting charm, his absence in this mouthwatering and delectable ceremony has allowed for the ace and vice-captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team to shine. Oh, and shine, he has.

Within a mere five minutes, the fiercely devoted and militant fanclub belonging to Oikawa has suddenly converted— briefly, they insist— to the groupies of Seijoh’s Vice Captain: powerful ace, leader of offense, total hottie.

The attention increases tenfold from that point on. Suddenly, Oikawa is no longer the only one receiving love confessions numerous times on a daily basis (much to his chagrin), but instead is sharing the spotlight with his best friend, who is more than uncomfortable with the unexpected shift in notice. He was never ecstatic at being labeled as ‘Oikawa’s number two’, adamant that he was his own entity despite the intricate intertwinement with his best friend, he was, in fact, totally fine with never being hounded by girls at every minute of the day. Sure, the attention would be nice, occasionally.

But this? This is outrageous.

This is the tenth girl today to have stopped by his locker, a pink flush encompassing her face as she sticks her hands out to present something to Iwaizumi. It’s tupper ware, decorated in a pink bow with his name written in cursive on the top accompanied by some cute glitter stickers. That would make this the fourth container he’s received this morning, and as much as the whole act fills him with a deep dread and hesitation, he doesn’t have the heart to reject her gift. Especially when her hands are shaking so hard and she’s stuttering every other word out.

So he puts on the standard smile, the one that he’s seen Oikawa pump out a hundred times a day but fails to meet in equal warmth and charm, and thanks her graciously and sincerely— even though he’s not that big a fan of milk bread and this is the third one he’s going to have to shove into his locker.

He bows to her with an awkward smile, “Ah, thank you, uh…”

“H-Hina!” she shouts, her hands slapping upward towards her mouth after the outburst. The pink flushes deeper on her skin, and Iwaizumi has to wonder what exactly is going through the air for a girl to have this kind of reaction to him. He hasn’t changed, hasn’t developed a new attitude that should have girls swooning at his feet. He’s the same as always, stubbornly so. He is Iwaizumi Hajime, hardass, avid monster movie watcher and the usual second thought. He supposes he should feel somewhat elated at the long-awaited recognition, but he can’t shake off the feeling that this is all incredibly unwarranted.

It's a surface value attraction. They're not really swooning for him, just the idea of him. That stings a bit more than he’d like to admit.

“Hina,” he affirms with a gentle nod, bowing his head in gratitude, “Thank you for the treat. I will, uh, treasure every bite.”

He doesn’t mean it to be anything charming (because he’s not) nor even remotely romantic (because it’s not), it’s just what he comes up with at the top of his head, but Hina starts to shake and a watery smile spreads across her face when she hears it and he knows he’s made this whole thing much worse. Before he can even awkwardly ask if she’s alright, she bows hurriedly again before running off with a shriek.

It's then that he’s sure Oikawa is one sadistic motherfucker because there is no way anyone mentally sane could take that reaction as a compliment. There’s an intense guilt that settles in his stomach for the rest of the day for causing a girl to tremble like that.

Curse the student council for that stupid fundraiser award. He would much rather walk to every away game than have to go through another day of this.

He opens his locker again, placing the container in there amongst all the other ones and the numerous handmade cards declaring affection. He closes it with a sigh. He can only hope that this phase of adoration is reaching its end.

Quickly.

It does not end quickly.

It's month three of endless confessions and Iwaizumi is about to lose his mind. Word spreads about his favorite kinds of teas and sweets (which he is sure Oikawa is directly responsible for) and his locker starts to resemble a mall kiosk more than any part of school property. The outside is decorated with stickers and taped with more love cards and he’s pretty sure someone found out his combination (again) because there are balloons floating out of it.

It's a circus. One that Mattsukawa and Hanamaki repeatedly laugh about every time they see it.

He would like to indulge in the acts or at least make some kind of peace with the situation, he really would. He’s always fantasized in passing about the pride and specialty one must feel at being the center of female attention, having seen it and thwarted it first hand from Oikawa’s fans, but the longer this drags on the more fraudulent he starts to feel.

How can he enjoy his favorite foods when the girls giving it to him are blinded by a false idea of him? They’re not genuine, and if he accepted them, he would only feel like a bad guy, taking advantage of poor girls who haven’t got the slightest clue about him. Because Iwaizumi doesn’t have the million dollar smile like Oikawa does, nor does he have the oozing charm and commercial personality.

He’s hard, and stubborn, and less inclined to entertain bullshit— the complete opposite of shitty-kawa. So whatever perception these girls think they have of Iwa, they’re wrong. and he can’t accept gifts from these girls who think they love him, when in reality, he’s the furthest thing from what they assume he is.

“Why are you so adamant to believe that what they feel isn’t real? What's so ridiculous about liking you? Hmm?” Oikawa sings with a laugh one afternoon, the whole team crammed into the club room as they change out of their practice gear. the other guys snicker at Iwaizumi’s dismay, the usual frown painted on his face is permanently etched deeper into his skin and he knows they’re all getting a sick enjoyment from his torture.

The constant reliability to the chaos Oikawa brings is now subjected to his own taste of havoc. And he’s absolutely miserable.

In all of his stubborn self-sufficiency, he’s refused to even indulge the guys with a verbal complaint, simply grumbling at the gifts before moving on with his day. Intent on dealing with this problem on his own and prohibiting himself from being a burden to anyone else.

But he’s off his a-game in practice and the crease between his eyebrows is now a persistent feature on his face these days.

“Because it's not real,” he grunts, throwing his sweaty shirt into his sports bag, “They don’t like me.”

Hanamaki snorts from across the benches, a wide smile on his face as he unlaces his shoes and sings, “They only like him for his bodyyy.”

“Can you blame them? Who would ever like Iwa for his personality?” Matsukawa joins him in snickering, earning a killer glare from the victim in question. Not helping. They only laugh harder.

“So what?” Oikawa questions amusedly, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from the other two third years, leaning his body against the lockers as he watches his best friend ripple with frustration. A constant sight these days.

“So what?” Iwaizumi turns to look at him, incredulity furrowing his features as his friends look at him like he’s grown a third head for being reasonably uncomfortable with this, “It's weird. They’re giving all of these nice gifts to a guy they barely know and they all look at me like a piece of meat.”

“God, girls objectifying you? The horror.” Mattsun torts again, earning a water bottle thrown at his face.

“So what?” Oikawa laughs again, the kind of laugh that reverberates around the room and rings a little too loudly in his ears. He’s heard this laugh thousands of times over the years, coming out to play when Oikawa is far too keen on putting Hajime as the butt of a joke. The mockery is clear in his voice, bleeding in the two simple words yet weighing like a hundred. He can usually take it, dish it back with equal fervor to his best friend, but this time around, he can’t.

This whole mess of a situation sits heavily on his shoulders and for the first time, any attempt to just barrel through a problem like he so often does seems pointless to Hajime. Because no matter how much he ignores, no matter how often he declines, the girls will continue to only see Seijoh's ace. Not Iwaizumi Hajime.

He sighs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting in venting to his friends. Validation if they were any nicer, but deep down he knew it would take a different trajectory.

Maybe they’re right; Maybe he is blowing this out of proportion. Maybe he should just accept the gifts, enjoy them while he can because the girls are choosing to do it. They’re not being held against their will, nor is anyone really being hurt by these peculiar circumstances. It's, theoretically, a win-win.

It doesn’t stop the pit in his stomach from sinking even lower when he sees girls stop their chattering in the hallways as he passes. It doesn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of disappointment he feels when he notices they stare at his biceps before his face before dashing away.

Matsukawa shuts his own locker with a grumble, “Must be nice.”

“You wanna take my place, Issei?” iwaizumi turns to look over his shoulder, meeting the mischievous twinkle of the middle blocker.

“Yeah man, I do. Girls at my feet everyday bringing me food? That’s every guy’s dream.”

“Yeah, if every guy was a piece of shit like you.” The words tumble without second thought and Hanamaki finds himself clutching his stomach with laughter at the retort. He doesn’t mean to direct his anger at his friend, but it seeps into his words anyways. He’s lucky they’re good enough sports to take it in stride. Even if the twinkle in Matsukawa’s eyes dims and he grumbles a “shut up” while he slaps the back of Hanamaki’s head.

He knows a solution— or sympathy— won’t be offered in his venting, adamant that this is something he needs to solve on his own, but he can’t help himself. He just has to get it out. “I can't even go to class normally anymore. There’s always a girl waiting for me.”

His back is turned towards his friends as he folds his gym clothes into the open cubby, but even despite the absence of his facial expression, the other three sitting near him can hear the exhaustion in his voice. Much as they might tease him, they’ve sat front and center to the slow decline of Hajime’s sanity and comfort as he was thrust suddenly into the spotlight that he was ill-prepared for. He’s laughably out of his element, but his plight is severe enough for all three of them to occasionally step in.

Hanamaki and Mattsun have had their fair share of instances in which they’ve had to redirect of a horde of girls hounding at them for Iwaizumi’s location, telling them that they had no idea where Iwaizumi could have gone when in fact, he was hiding in the clubroom. And while they would’ve been more than happy to send them his way just to watch him fluster and stutter, the two friends knew the momentary laugh wouldn’t have been worth the further depletion of Hajime’s confidence and happiness. Iwaizumi wants this attention to be for something genuine, for something that he was directly responsible for and can be proud of. Not something as surface value as an attractive body.

Truth be told, all three of Seijoh's third years want to help him as much as Iwaizumi wants this to be over. But just like him, they have no idea what to do.

Hajime sighs again, “Don’t even get me started about when I’m with (Y/N). You think stalking is bad? Try having to deal with evil glares too.”

Scratch that. They have one idea.

The mention of the ace’s other best friend, the one that they’re all too familiar with, has all of Seijoh's members perking their heads upward in interest. A lightbulb going off simultaneously as they all share a glance with one another. Hanamaki looks up to Oikawa who looks to Mattsun who looks to Hanamaki. Their eyes darting between one another, telepathically asking the same question.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Hanamaki and Mattsun finalize their answer with a hard stare at Oikawa and smirks on their faces. They both give a long nod to their captain and like the well-oiled machine the Seijoh Volleyball Team is known to be, a plan is formulated and put into action before anyone can blink.

“Oh?” Oikawa prods, taking the initiative. His grin is suddenly more wicked than before, “How so?”

Iwaizumi notices the subtle change in tone in the conversation, can hear the smile in Oikawa’s words, but he doesn’t think much of it. Simply attributing it to the mention of the beloved figure they’re all acquainted with. He can’t blame them, finding his own mood has tipped upward at the mere thought of you. And while he has apologized to the moon and back for inadvertently getting you involved in this nightmare of a situation, there’s a resounding comfort he feels at knowing that there's at least one person on his side. One person that is willing to trudge through the mud with him, regardless of how often they complain.

Because whatever happens to him happens to you, you insist. So if he has to deal with a hundred fangirls, then so do you.

He plows on, airing out his struggles and frustrations with his newfound attention. “They’re always staring at us, making the whole thing uncomfortable when we’re just hanging out. (Y/N) even told me she once got cornered in the girls’ bathroom during lunch.”

Oikawa gasps, always enthralled with any juicy gossip, especially on the rare occasion that it involves you— his beloved, headstrong, annoying other best friend. “What did they say?”

“Some weird shit about staying away from me, like I was their property.”

“And what did (y/n) say?”

Iwaizumi laughs, a genuine one that has been missing since this whole ordeal began. He turns to look at his friends, the smile reaching his eyes and pushing upwards on his cheeks. If they weren’t sure of their plan before, the happiness on his face was enough of a push to solidify it. The happiness that only someone specific can bring out. “It's (Y/N). What do you think she said?”

Oikawa, all too familiar with your personality and deviance from the norm since age ten, huffs out a laugh, “Hmm, let me guess, something about doing whatever she wants with whoever she wants.”

“No, actually, she—”

You’re washing your hands in the sink of the bathroom when you hear a cough from behind you. Looking upwards into the mirror, you are suddenly confronted with the reflection of six girls circling around you.

A groan tumbles out of your mouth. You knew something like this was bound to happen, jealousy always emerging victorious whenever girls were thirsting after a young man. You just didn’t think it would be happening so soon, only two months into the fanatic obsession with your best friend. It’s your fault really, you should’ve prepared for a moment like this to come. But as they all shoot daggers into your reflection you can’t help but recognize how woefully dreadful this is.

You'd kill Hajime for inadvertently getting you into this if he wasn’t already feeling so guilty about it.

Each one stares at you with an intense fury, and while you’ve never considered yourself to be much of a fighter, you’re mentally preparing yourself to throw a couple of punches in this cramped bathroom. You won’t win, six against one is hardly a story of triumph, but you’ll be damned if you get intimidated by this raging group of hormones.

The faucet stops, with almost impeccable comedic timing, and a silence emanates throughout the area. It's awkward, painfully so and their silent stares are not helping.

“Uh… Can I help you?”

The one in the middle (the leader, you assume) stands with a hip jutted out and her arms crossed. You’ve seen her in passing before. Her eyes narrow at your question, “So, are you two dating?”

You have to force yourself to not roll your eyes. Of course this is where this was going. Because God forbid anyone have friends of the opposite gender. Indicator number one that the interest of these girls was superficial, considering if they even really had been interested in more than the prospect of having access to Iwaizumi’s body, they would’ve realized that you’ve been in his life for a lot longer than he’s had any redeeming qualities— including those rocking arms of his.

You won't entertain this, something you’ve been adamant about even if Hajime has insisted you don’t , especially not when it's causing Iwa all this grief that you’ve had to comfort him through time and time again.

“Who’s asking?” You all but bark back, patience wearing thin.

The one to the right of the leader— Pigtails, you’ve taken to calling her— scoffs and stomps her foot, “We are, obviously!”

Patience is below the ground now.

The left one, the one with pink hair, speaks this time, “Iwaizumi won’t even talk to us for more than a minute but he lets you hang around! So, if you’re not dating you have to tell us!”

“Why?”

“So that you can help us get closer to him!”

“Yeah, no.” you respond curtly, feeling rather nauseous at the lengths in which these girls are going just to get his attention. Cornering his friend and doing a piss-poor job at intimidating them into coercing them for information about him. No wonder Hajime's been feeling so depressed.

Taking the piss out of him used to be fun, something you and Pikawa could share profound pleasure in, but now that it's at your front door and reeking of death, you’re quickly realizing just how much you owe that spiky haired idiot.

You grab your bag that lay at your feet, turning to face the six girls with a mirthless smile despite the hatred burning in their eyes.

“Good luck with… whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

You’re almost out the door when the leader, who has puffed out her chest and taken a step forward blurts out, “If you’re not going to help us, then you better stay out of our way.”

There are few people in this world that you’ve dreamt about punching. Oikawa has made the list a couple times, but that’s only when he’s being particularly obnoxious. Iwaizumi has too, usually when his hard headedness has conflicted with yours, but even then the situation is usually better within the next hour.

But this girl, oh this girl, she has made the top of your list in record time. And you highly doubt she’s coming off of it anytime soon. And now that you’ve gotten a good look at her, you’re starting to remember exactly where you’ve seen her before.

You raise an eyebrow at her intimidation, “Or what?”

(You have to pat your back for that one because you really sound like the scary third year you’ve always dreamt of being.)

She doesn’t falter in her misplaced confidence, a smile pulling at her lips, “If he’s not yours, then he’ll be one of ours soon enough. And I can promise you, every boyfriend I've ever had always dropped his girl best friends when I asked.”

“Uh huh,” you glance at your watch that shows there are only fifteen minutes left in lunch. Might as well start on your meal now.

You pull the backpack slung over your shoulder in front of you, unzipping the large pocket and pulling out a familiar container. The girls gasp when they see it.

It's pink and has a little cat design on the front of it. Very cute and very distinct. You pop open the top, grabbing the milk bread that lies inside with your left hand and holding the lid and the box with your right. The lid is tilted forward, granting all the girls clear viewing of the cursive ink that lies on it.

The name is clear and the handwriting incredibly recognizable. The leader’s mouth gapes open.

You take a bite out of the treat, a dramatic moan escaping your mouth. You point at the girl, “Mm. You made this right?”

She doesn’t answer. None of them do. They only stare with wide eyes.

“I remember seeing you give this to Iwa this morning. It’s really good. He's not a big fan of milk bread, so he’s been giving them to me but I’ve enjoyed every single one of them! Although I am getting tired of eating the same thing over and over. So, if you’re taking suggestions, try Agedashi Dōfu. It's Iwa’s favorite.”

You lick your lips to make the point clearer. A gentle reminder of your place and their lack of one in his life. They seem to get it.

“Right then. Bye ladies! This was fun! I’m sure Hajime will be thrilled to hear all about it.”

Iwaizumi finishes recounting the story with a childlike wonder, meeting the furrowed brows and agape mouths of his friends with a joyous smile. There’s an unmistakable twinkle of affection in his eyes, one that he must not even realize is there. But it's noticeable, and his friends recognize it.

It's the same look he always gets whenever he talks about you.

It was mean of you to humiliate those girls like that, he knows, but his smile when recounting the tale is more than indicative of his true feelings behind the action. He briefly lectured you about it after you told him, insisting that it was important to be nice to these poor girls who didn’t know any better, that you begrudgingly agreed to, but he thinks about it often. Thinks about it at practice, in the middle of class, and every time he sees you.

He didn’t know how he felt about it, but from the way it warmed his cheeks and filled his chest with a weird lightness, he knew he was ultimately appreciative of the action. Honored that you would stick up for him unapologetically and protect him from unassuming teenage girls.

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Were the roles reversed he would do the same for you in a heartbeat. But still, he thinks about it. A lot.

“I haven’t seen those girls since, but I have been getting a lot more Agedashi Dōfu, so I guess that’s a plus.” He shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance returning back to the contents of his locker but the remnants of a smile plays on his lips.

“Well, how ‘bout that?” Oikawa coos. He steps closer to Iwa, placing his hands on the ace’s shoulders and giving them a good natured shake.

“I think I have the perfect solution to your problem, Iwa-chan.”

“You want me chu do wha?” you ask, mouth full of milk bread as the boy in front of you conveniently avoids your eye contact.

It's the seventh container he’s handed you this week, and while your little incident has quickly diminished the amount he usually receives, there are still the occasional stray containers with the sweet that he instinctively hands to you.

This time it came in a purple container. No outlandish designs or stickers like the other ones, but there is a written poem on the top comparing his eyes to the dirt of the Miyagi mountains. You suppose that’s romantic, but your leniency only goes so far. Particularly when this poem has no clear rhyming pattern.

You’ve long since passed the point of guilt for eating all of the treats that were clearly not meant for you. Hajime was much too conflicted with the gifts to even consider smelling them, so it serves as a solution to the problem to just give it to you. He doesn’t have to worry about maliciously taking advantage of these girls and you get food.

Win-win.

And while you’re not that into milk bread (having eaten it almost everyday for the past couple of weeks), your consumption of it seems to give him some peace of mind. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. And really, that’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.

But this is going too far.

Swallowing the last piece of milk bread, you look up at the idiot from your place on the bench. He stands in front of you, hands shoved deep into his pockets and shuffling from foot to foot.

“You’re joking, right?”

This is a joke. It has to be. There’s no way the world would be this cruel to you.

His eyes remain averted, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would wake him up from this endless nightmare, “Look, it’ll only be until I can get these girls to back off of me a little.”

“No.”

“Wha— (Y/N).” He breathes out, a twinge of desperation and pleading seeping into his voice as he finally looks into your eyes. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but the pure and unadulterated seriousness is not one of them. He’s almost convinced to drop the subject altogether. Almost.

“Whose idea was this?” You practically growl out, closing the container and cleaning your surrounding area of any stray crumbs. You thrust your hand outward, shoving the container his way. He takes it from you without question.

“Does it matter?”

“Whose?”

“...Oikawa.”

Of course it was. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“(Y/N),” he says your name more forcefully. It’s the same tone he uses with Oikawa when he’s being whiny. It's enough of a bite to have you stop rearranging your items for a brief moment, meeting his determined gaze with one of your own. He stares intently, eyes unwavering in their silent plea to make you understand.

That’s the worst part about it. He’s serious, and he’s confident that this is the only way to solve the problem that’s been plaguing him for the past three months.

If there's one thing you know about Iwaizumi Hajime, it’s that he’ll solve any problem on his plate and won’t stop until it's fixed. He’s responsible to a fault, refusing to burden others unless absolutely necessary. The fact that he’s viewing this to be the only solution and actually trying to persuade you is indicative enough of how desperate he is.

Even more so indicative of how truly fucked you are, considering you’ve already made a decision before he even explains further.

Damn him and that hard head of his.

Damn Oikawa for knowing what he does and still dragging you into this mess. No doubt he was thoroughly enjoying this.

“Will you please be my girlfriend?”

Damn that student council and their stupid fundraiser for getting Iwaizumi Hajime, the boy you’ve been best friends with since you were ten and had a crush on since you were thirteen, to ask you to be his fake girlfriend in order to thwart off hordes of fangirls.

Damn you for already having an answer before you can even think twice.

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, and they were all laughing at your expense now.

end notes: whoop there it is. let me know what you all think! should i keep going? should i say fuck a degree and major in iwazumi hajime? idk man im about to.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #my writing #haikyuu!!

183 notes · View notes

cyncerity · 3 years ago

Note

Hi. So when I read your giant!techno nom fic. The protective vore one. I actually thought that it was one of the best fics of vore catergory that i ever read. So is it alright if you can write some more like one about g!techno playing hide and seek with the other sbi but with noms? Or it can be nap time and techno nommed them for better sleep. Or you don't have to use these at all, or even write it. This is my first time asking for something on tumblr so im not expecting anything. But it would make me squeal if you do.

Thank you.

more giant techno noms more giant techno noms more giant techno noms more giant techn-

I’m also gonna put this in the same universe as the last one because screw it I like that au-

((I’m so sorry this took so long I’ve been in a funk lately where all I do is eat, sleep, and rewatch Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood an eighth time))

tw: vore

It had been a long few weeks for the tinies. Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy had been left alone in the house to fend for themselves as Techno went out to do…whatever Techno does. He had left some food out for the three tinies and said he’d be back in a week, but it was starting to be closer to two and a half. The small hybrids had run out of the food Techno had left them a while ago, which wasn’t a huge problem since there was other food in the house, but the real problem was that the food was far less accessible than they had hoped. None of them had borrowed in so long that they all almost completely forgot how to do it. And the fact that there was almost nothing to help them move from place to place didn’t help much, either: Techno had always carried them from place to place, especially after Philza had lost use of his wings.

By the time Techno got home the trio was exhausted. Every muscle ached from overuse and their bones felt like they would collapse any second. But despite the pain, the joy they felt as Techno walked through the sort was immeasurable.

Techno didn’t look much better than the tinies. He hobbled through the door with an array of new bruises and scars, looking ready to collapse. Yet despite this, his mind went to the borrowers he lived with. His family. He had to make sure they were ok before he would let himself relax. Thankfully, it wasn’t that hard to find them. Literal seconds after he closed the door behind him he heard the all to familiar shriek of the youngest borrower screaming his name from the kitchen counter.

He ran to him and found Phil and Wilbur nearby, carefully scooping them into his hands. “I’m so, so sorry I was gone for so long. I honestly thought it would be a week, but shit hit the fan and I couldn’t get home that fast, believe me, I tried. I’m so sorry.” The tinies nodded, believing Technos words wholeheartedly. They couldn’t be sure what Techno did as a “job,” but if it was anything similar to what he was doing when he met them, they could excuse him for being a little late.

Techno could’ve cried tears of joy seeing the borrowers again. Though it had only been a few weeks since he had last seen them, he missed them. Before he met them he had gone years without contact from other people, but after being with them he couldn’t imagine being alone again.

The giant piglin hybrid brought the three to the couch with him, along with a plate of food for the tinies. It was no use hiding how hungry they looked from Techno. Sure, they hadn’t starved to death, but food hadn’t exactly been abundant. So the next hour was spent with the borrowers eating on the couch and Techno asking about how the borrowers were doing physically and mentally, and eventually it led to Techno telling them all the cool things he saw on his trip.

Techno eventually began to fall asleep sitting there. He was exhausted from his trip, and wanted nothing more than to just fall asleep. The tinies apparently noticed this, too, though, as they began to climb up his clothes and rest on his chest as he laid back. As he was closing his eyes, though, Philza hesitantly walked closer to Technos ear.

“Techno, can I ask for a favor?”

One of Technos eye peek open to look at the tiny bird man, who was standing nervously next to his head. “Sure, anything.”

“Can you swallow me…?”

Techno…honestly should have been more surprised. The last time he had done it was when they were kidnapped in that alleyway, and it honestly still stung to bring up, especially to Phil, whose mangled wings served as a constant reminder of the event. But Techno and the tinies talked about what it was like to have someone inside you, and what it was like to be inside someone else. Even if they teased each other for it near constantly, it had come to the point where none of them were afraid of admitting how much they enjoyed it at the time. So instead of responding, he glanced quickly down to Tommy and Wilbur to verify if they were asleep or not. Neither were, and both were staring up at Techno and Phil as if waiting for something, which the piglin hybrid figured out pretty quickly.

“You two wanna go with your dad?” Techno asked. His response came in the two scrambling off his chest as quickly as their tired bodies would let them and running over to Phil, who laughed at the sight. Techno sat up on one of his elbows and laid out a hand for the three.

They all got on, Phil looking especially relieved since he was sure that his request would backfire. They all just wanted, or more or less needed a comforting and warm place to sleep after all their struggles and wanted the reminder that Techno was back and cared about them.

Techno slipped them off his open palm over his open mouth and felt the three fall into his maw, carefully avoiding his boar-like tusks. He closed his mouth and began lathering the three in warm saliva so their trip down would be as painless as possible. The tinies immediately began feeling the tenseness in their muscles fade as the natural heat from Techno’s mouth surrounded them and made them feel drowsier than they already were. Phil, upon seeing the exhaustion on his sons faces that he was sure mirrored his own, pat Technos tongue as a sign that they were ready. Almost immediately they felt their surroundings shift and clung close together as the esophagus dragged them deeper into the giants throat. They felt Technos fingers push against the bulge they made in his throat as a deep instinctual purr rang out around them. Techno would always deny that he could purr or that he had ever purred around them, but all three of the tinies knew better.

Soon enough they dropped into Technos brood pouch, the giants purring becoming immediately louder as he rubbed them from outside the stomach. The second Wilbur felt Techno massage them, he was out like a light. Tommy laughed at him before walking over to his older brother and curling against him, falling asleep shortly after.

Phil looked towards his sons before going to where he felt the front of the second stomach and was and rubbed circles in the organs walls, hearing Techno sigh in contentment above him.

“Thank you, mate.” Phil said, feeling himself start to fall asleep in the warmth of his friend. “Anytime, Phil.” Techno responded. The small avian felt a final pat at him before falling into a deep and comfortable sleep.

#also I know I messaged you about this before but this is still one of the nicest things I’ve ever read #so thank you <3 #cyncerity #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #mcytg/t #mcytgt #tw vore #giant!techno #tiny!wilbur #tiny!phil #tiny!tommy #Giant Techno AU #cynwrites

103 notes · View notes

doodledrawsthings · 4 years ago

Note

Hello. I am a huge fan of your work. I would like to draw better, but the same problem always occurs to me. How do you go about designing new (human) characters without making them all look the same but with different accessories? As for expressiveness I have no problem (I use your drawings as a model of faces sometimes, Sorry about that)

Oof, it’s always wild getting asks about how to draw things, cuz in all real honesty, Im not a teacher and something that worked for me may not work for you but yknow- take me with a grain of salt.

I’m gonna try not to go into a long ramble as I am oh so prone to doing. The SHORT answer is kinda just- draw differently from how you’re used to. Maybe you feel like you’re, as you said, “making them look the same but with different accessories.” Then try a different head shape/eye shape/nose shape/body type/ etc. that you aren’t used to drawing. People come in all shapes and sizes.

The LONG ANSWER has to do with observational study. And doing this will gradually help you over time, as you grow as an artist. Study things like figure and gesture drawing. Look at real people! People are so wonderfully various! And they’re everywhere! And some places do figure drawing sessions if you’re open to do that and when we aren’t in a pandemic! This ties back to the “draw body types and face shapes and eye shapes you aren’t used to drawing thing.” That’s kind of a given, as figure and gesture drawing are common ways to help artists gain a sense of form and posing and just... BODY. BUT ALSO study other people’s stylized art! Literally, make a list of artists you take after and keep that as something to reference. Have MULTIPLE artists to take after. Pay attention to how different artists draw different, specific things. Maybe you like the way one artists draws hands but the way another draws faces. Furthermore with me, if looking at my art isn’t giving you the full cut you need especially since there’s things I may be weaker in than others then look at another artist to get the rest of the cut! Take aspects you like from my art and their art and mash em together into your own art, as style is just a Frankenstein’s monster of all of your influences. Ultimately what this does is help you create and build your visual library which can be a physical and mental selection of references and inspirations that will help build more variety in your art.

#so much for not rambling lmao #don’t take any of this as condescending I just have a mighty need to constantly over explain #every time I get asked for art advice I’m always like ‘keep it short mak’#and then I don’t #sorry if this is a lot but hopefully you can decipher some of it #trust me this was so much longer before I cut it all down #appreciate y’all asking for advice but also I don’t know what I’m doing either #I’m going off of personal experience so again take it with a grain of salt

113 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 4 years ago

Text

Hard to Love [19/?]

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 2748

Warnings: this story will have mentions of abuse, mental and physical so please read at your own risk. Some swearing, angst, and a good amount of fluff. Maybe some smut if I'm feeling frisky.

Summary: After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston's eligible bachelors. What she didn't expect was finding herself falling in love with him and finding him out about the past that she was running from.

A/N: I couldn’t leave you guys hanging all night! TBH, I’m not sure how much longer this series is going to go. I’ve got a few things in my brain but well see how long this lasts! As always, enjoy :)

Tags: @kelbabyblue @patzammit @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @jennmurawski13 @divadinag @cosmicbreathe @thevelvetseries @capstopavenger @chris-butt @denisemarieangelina @im-a-stranger-thing @jennamarieee623 @introvertedmouse @lharrietg @thejemersoninferno @breezykpop @instantbasementtimetravel @rodgersteves @michaelscotfield-blog1 @40srogcrs @wonderingshawn @bellaireland1981 @katelyneannxo @lady-x-red @sare-bare93-blog @annmariek8 @raabrakha @stxvercgersslut

Chris’ POV.

A broken sigh fell from my lips as I sat on the back patio, Scott and my mom sitting at the table next to me. They had been here for the morale support, knowing that if I was still left alone, I would have gone insane.

The bags under my eyes had darken, my facial hair had grown longer than I usually like; I hadn’t had the will to shave. My long hair was matted on my head, refusing to get off the couch to shower. I didn’t want to risk missing her phone call.

“How long has it been?” Scott asked, his voice breaking the last ten minute silence.

I looked at my watch and choked back a sob. “Almost 48 hours.”

“They’ll find her, honey,” My mom rubbed my back.

Running a hand over my face, I nodded. “I keep thinking that if we haven't fought that night, she would be home right now. I can’t believe those were my last words to her. What if that’s all she's going to remember if she di-.”

I wasn’t able to finish my sentence, a loud sob replacing my words.

“Chris, you can’t think like that. You have to think positive.” Scott stated.

“How can I?!” I yelled while I stood to my feet, the chair scraping on the pavement.

“Her crazy ex husband has her! For all the cops know, he could have killed her the second he hit her with the bat!”

My voice was deep and bellowed through my backyard. Thankfully it was only us outside so I didn't need to explain myself to anyone.

The news of Y/N’s kidnapping unfortunately had been on every news channel local to Boston and Chad’s face was plastered all over social media, hoping any tips would pour in. My phone had non stop messages from family, friends, and fans. A lot of the fans thought it was a hoax since I hadn’t said one word about it.

“Any tips come in online?” My mother asked.

“Nothing, everyone thinks it’s a hoax,” I sighed.

“Why don’t you say something?” Scott suggested.

I looked at him skeptically. “I don’t know how that would help.”

“You have a huge fanbase, Chris; especially around Boston. It doesn't hurt,” Scott said.

Sucking on my bottom lip, I tossed the thought around in my head, back and forth back and forth, until I decided with a nod. Someone would be able to find something.

I stepped away from them while pulling out my phone and clicked the live button on Instagram, taking a deep breath beforehand. The light had turned green, indicating I was live.

“Hey everyone. I’m sure a lot of you heard the news about Y/N. First off, I want to say that it is true. She was abducted a few blocks from here almost 48 hours ago. The cops have evidence that her ex is behind it but they’re having trouble finding where he took her.”

I ran a hand through my hair and continued. “We’ve been together for almost a year and she means the world to me; almost as much as Dodger. Hell, even more than Dodger. She’s everything to me, I need her back home. So if any of you have any information please pass it along to Boston PD. Or you can even send it to me but please, I beg you, serious leads only. I love her. Let’s bring Y/N home. Thank you guys, you are simply the best fans. I love you all.”

The live ended and immediately I noticed the outpouring coming from everyone that had watched the live, letting me know that Y/N was in their prayers and that they would help bring her home.

A few tears rolled off my cheeks and I let out a shaky breath, holding back the sobs. My mom snuck up behind me and wrapped herself around me, pulling into a much needed hug.

My body crumbled in her embrace and the sobs became louder, burning our ears. I could help but grip my fingers into my moms back, even if she was shorter than I, but suddenly I was a little kid again. She always knew when I needed a hug or a shoulder to cry on. She knew exactly what I needed to get over heartbreak and she knew exactly when to back off when I needed space.

Right now I needed her.

After a few moments, I finally pulled away from her and thanked her with a kiss to the cheek.

“Thanks mom,” I forced a smile to my face.

“Of course,” she cupped my cheek, “I’m going to make you something to eat.”

I went to protest but she immediately hushed me, saying that I looked like I hadn’t eaten in days.

It was true.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay with you?” My mother asked.

Scott sat behind the wheel while I leaned against the window of the passenger side in front of my mom. They stayed for a few hours after dinner and when the clock struck seven, I knew that they should head back home to rest; they’d been by my side all day.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got Dodger.” I nodded.

“Chris,” she tsked.

“Ma, I’ll be fine. If I need anything, I’ll call.” I reassured her.

Her hand rested on my cheek and with sad eyes, she nodded. “She’ll come home.”

“I know. What’s killing me is not knowing-.”

“Chris?”

Looking to my left, my shocked eyes watched in horror as the figure walked towards me. I scurried away from Scott’s car, closer to the figure. She looked broken, bare feet tore up with cuts, but what caused my lips to tremble was the blood that covered her dress.

“Y/N?” My lips quivered. “Baby?”

Readers POV.

The soles of my heels burned with every step I took, closer and closer to my destination. The pavement scratched and cut my bare skin and I hissed in pain after every few steps. I wasn’t sure how long I had been walking but knew that I had a bit more to go.

A soft breeze tangled around my legs, causing the cuts to sting and I let out another hiss of pain. I pulled the jacket closer around me, blocking out the view from anyone I had walked past, which thankfully wasn’t many. I was in a part of town that the scene of me, disheveled and cut all over was nothing new. I could feel all parts of my hair was matted and stuck to my face, the sweat and blood dried a long time ago.

As the sun began to set, I knew I had to make it back before dark. This part of town was worse at night, but compared to what I had endured, that didn’t scare me. Nothing could scare me anymore.

Time passed slowly as the streets started to become familiar and as my tired feet turned the corner, the familiar three story home that had all those windows slowly came into view. The closer I got, the bigger the windows looked. My heart leaped into my chest when I saw him leaning against a car, talking with someone I couldn’t see. It didn’t matter, however, all that mattered what that I had made it back; back home to him.

“Chris?” My voice was raw and broken, barley coming past my lips.

He pushed himself off the car, taking large strides towards me. His hand outstretched and shook, afraid that I wasn’t real.

“Y/N? Baby?”

Everything seemed to slow as I stood in front of him, broken and a mess, knowing that with the look in his eyes that he hadn’t slept since I left.

“Is that...blood? Oh, god, please tell me it isn’t blood,” he cried, pulling me into his arms.

I broke down in a sobbing mess in his chest, the hell from the past few days finally catching up to me.

“It’s not mine,” I choked between sobs.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you,” Chris cooed, large hands rubbing circles on my back.

His body shook with sobs, happy that I had found my way home and sad from everything that happened to me.

“We should get you to a hospital, baby.” Chris cupped my face.

I wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on mine but I couldn’t force myself to close the distance; thankfully Chris understood.

“I’m fine,” I tried to fight.

“You’re not fine, Y/N. Please, let me take you to the hospital.” Chris begged with sad eyes.

Eventually I nodded. I didn’t want to go to the hospital because I knew the cops would get called which meant I had to tell them what happened; something I wasn’t ready to tell.

Silence was all we heard, threatening to pull us in deeper, as we waited for the doctor to return with the officer; they wanted to go over everything with them in the room. I agreed.

Chris had his eyes trained hard on the floor, his body unreadable.

“Chris?” My voice was quiet.

He slowly looked up. “Do you need something?”

I nodded and patted the spot next to me on the hospital bed. “Can you sit with me? I really need you right now.”

In a flash he was up from the chair in the corner of the room and by my side, arm wrapped around my shoulder. He kissed my forehead and the warm gesture was enough to slowly heal my heart.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

We both looked in the doorway and Chris greeted an officer and the doctor.

“Baby, this is Officer Ramirez, she’s handing your case.” Chris informed me.

The word sounded so wrong coming from his lips; your case.

“Are you feeling alright?” The officer asked.

I shrugged. “Better than I was earlier. The drugs helped ease the pain.”

“Are you alright if I go over the results in front of him?” The doctor suddenly asked while nodding toward Chris.

Linking our fingers together, I nodded. “He’s my boyfriend. He was with me for the tests, he’s staying for the results.

It was the doctors turn to nod. “Alright. So you have two bruised ribs, a laceration to your neck, hip and hand which we all stitched up. Some bruising on your face, a black eye, and a few minor cuts on your face as well. You do have a slight concussion so do take it easy for the next week. The bottom of your feet are severely cut up and we pulled quite a few debris out of them so I recommend staying off your feet as well.”

Chris stumbled over his words, trying to ask the one question that burned in his mind. Even though I reassured him countless times, he still needed to hear the doctor say it.

“What about the rape kit?” He finally breathed out.

“Negative. There was no sign of trauma and no foreign fluids. I don’t know how you survived, Ms. Y/L/N, but you are a fighter. I’ll leave you alone with Officer Ramirez.”

After she left the room, I stole a glance at Chris who’s shoulders had eased up a bit, knowing that I wasn’t raped. I knew that it was on his mind the whole time I was gone and since I came back.

“Are you up for giving your statement now?” Officer Ramirez asked.

I nodded. “I need to.”

Chris went to leave but I placed my hand on his thigh to stop him. “Please don’t leave me.”

He nodded. “Okay, I’m right here.”

Taking a deep breath, it came out shaky as I started telling them exactly what happened to me.

“He had me in a run down motel room across town, I knew it was across town when I was able to escape. When he was getting ready to put on a condom,” I felt Chris’ body stiffen next to me, “I saw the knife he’d brought on the table next to the bed and I didn’t even think about it; I went for it.”

“He was too fast and grabbed the knife before I was even off the bed. He used it on my, cutting up parts of my body. He didn’t care how loud I screamed or writhed in pain, he liked it.”

“Uh, after he smacked my head against the wall for trying to escape, he handcuffed me to the bedpost so he could run out for something. I couldn’t hear what he said, my head was throbbing in pain. He was gone for quite awhile and I stayed locked to the bed the entire time. I remember feeling how warm and sticky my blood was as it dripped from my body.”

I cried out, my hands shaking with the awful memories.

Chris wrapped his arms around me to calm me down and looked at Officer Ramirez. “Can we finish this another time?”

“No,” I shook my head while pulling away from his chest. “I have to tell them where his body is.”

Chris’ head snapped over to me, his mouth falling agape. “Don’t say another word, Y/N. Not until I get you a lawyer.”

“Damnit Chris, I don't want a lawyer! I did nothing wrong!,” I yelled. “That bastard, after he finally came back and unhandcuffed me, he passed out drunk in the bed next to me. I thought about running out but I knew that he would find me again. He felt me get out of bed and pulled me back down. We fought for the knife and he kept punching me in the head, smacking me against the wall. All I had was one second as he wiped my blood from his hand to reach for the knife, pushing it deep into his chest!”

My cheeks were soaked with tears, replaying the memory of the knife going into Chad’s heart over and over again. How easily the knife slid into his chest and the sound it made hurt my ears.

“I was so scared of what I had done that I sat in the corner of the room in the fetal position while his body went cold and ridged. I finally was able to will myself up and stole this dress from the laundry room of the hotel and walked all the way home.”

Chris looked at me, completely helpless and broken, but knew that I needed him more than ever. While he had me in his arms, Chris looked over to the officer.

“It’s clear what this is,” He stated.

She nodded. “The defense attorney won’t be pressing any charges. We only needed to get her statement.”

Chris and her chatted for a few more moments, her saying that she would be in touch, and it was finally Chris and I alone.

“You alright?” He pulled my chin up to meet his eyes.

“I was afraid I was going to die,” I admitted, “The only thing that kept me alive was thinking of you.”

“You’re incredibly strong, Y/N.” Chris breathed in my hair, savoring my scent.

Even though I was still covered in blood and sweat, not being able to shower until they collected evidence, I still smelled divine to him.

We found ourselves laying in the hospital bed, my head on his chest, and I could feel his heart beating rapidly through his chest.

“You can relax, I’m home now.” I reassured him.

A stray tear fell from his eyes and I was quick to wipe it away.

“I thought I lost you. I kept replaying our last words to each other in my head and blamed myself for what happened.” Chris admitted with a shaky breath.

“No,” I cupped his cheek, “None of this is your fault; or mine. I’m sorry I ever compared you to him.”

“Don’t apologize. I was being an asshole,” he stated.

“I just want to move past this,” I sighed while laying my head back on his chest.

Chris agreed with a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you,” he muttered against it.

My head shot up, looking into his eyes to see if he meant what he had just admitted.

“What?” I asked.

“I love you,” he said again, not missing a beat.

Getting through the last 48 hours of hell had been worth it because not only had I survived, I made it back home to the man that loved me and who I loved.

“I love you too,” I pressed my lips to his, feeling the familiar taste encase my tongue.

There was a long road to recovery in front of me but I knew that it would be an easy one to walk; with Chris by my side.

#chris evans and reader #reader insert #chris evansx reader #chris evans reader insert #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans angst

199 notes · View notes

kisekinodrabbles · 4 years ago

Note

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him.

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works.

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point.

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin.

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.”

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?”

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine.

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips.

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras.

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so.

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?”

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress.

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.”

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later.

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.”

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?”

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one.

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room.

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours.

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs.

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs.

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts.

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm.

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment.

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point.

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him.

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again.

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.”

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort.

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.”

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.”

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture.

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.”

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.”

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge.

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then.

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps.

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin.

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms.

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth.

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.”

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second.

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms.

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time.

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

#kuroko no basket #knb #kuroko no basuke #aomine daiki #aomine smut #knb smut #knb drabbles #knb scenarios #anonymous #popz

272 notes · View notes