Oh wonderful and great and powerful sabrael please write this prompt senpai: "I'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else"
(Modern AU where Lyrias is a college in Florida; the type of hoodie I talk about is like this or this)
The heady smell of bacon frying pervades the apartment, and Obi wakes up in the single best way possible.
Or, as the insistent reminder knocking against his stomach tells him, the second best way. But seeing as he’s in the midst of a four-year self-imposed dry spell, it’s the nicest rise-and-shine he’ll be getting for a while.
Man, fuck having feelings. It’s the fucking worst.
He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face; the after-images of his dreams flash against the backs of his eyelids and – and this is not helping him with his problem. He swings his legs off the bed, grabbing for his hoodie.
His hand closes on empty air. He stares at it a second, mind blank, before his brain gives a mighty mechanical groan and reminds him he’d worn the green one yesterday. Of course it’s not here. Recently washed and worn once? Belongs to Doc now. He digs through the pile of clothes on his floor – clean? dirty? who knows – and comes up with another in black.
“I’m making breakfast,” Doc announces when he opens his door, shrugging on his hoodie. He grunts in response – it’s too early for words – and turns toward the bathroom.
“I made you coffee,” she adds, and he spins on his heel.
She’s holding it out when he walks in, slim fingers wrapped over Lyrias’ logo. His hands dwarfs hers when he takes it, golden brown against her pale skin, and he tries to push back the vivid images his half-conscious mind offers him. Not the time, brain. Not the time.
His eyes finally start to focus after his third sip, and he looks down at her just as her gaze flick up off his chest to meet his. It must be hot work, cooking bacon; her checks are flushed as red as her hair.
“Sleep well?” she asks lightly, eyes steadily fixed on his.
All I dream of is you. “Yes,” he says instead. “How about you, Doc?”
Her face sinks down into the cowl neck of his hoodie, offering a muffled, “Fine.”
“How’d you get that anyway?” he asks. “I’m impressed you snuck it out this morning. I don’t sleep that heavy.”
He puts down his coffee to zip up his own hoodie, and almost misses her answer. “I took it last night.”
When he stares, she shrugs, the tips of her ears burning a hot pink. He looks at her again: tiny sleep shorts, his hoodie almost covering the whole of them, bare feet.
“Did you sleep in it?” The incredulity makes his tone sharper than he means, and she winces, hiding further under the cowl.
“It’s comforting,” she protests. “It smells nice.”
He almost says, then sleep with me, I’m both, but some level of self-preservation must exist in his brain because he stops himself before he can speak a word.
He’s been – good about this. She shivered at the stupid agricultural fair four years ago, and he offered her that hoodie; something Zen should have done, but Zen wears cashmere sweaters that cost as much as a car, not something you throw over a girl because it’s New England and it gets cold because fuck you, that’s why. He let her keep it too; it seemed stupid to ask for it back when he has one in every color (and when he likes the way she looks in it; namely the way she looks like she’s his). She gave it back a month later, washed and smelling of her fabric softener, and he thought that was going to be it: the end of his sweatshirt saga.
She stole it back three days later, after he wore it once. It’s comfy, she told him. Buy your own, he had clapped back, not meaning a single word.
Once they get to Lyrias, it’s constant; the air conditioning is on full blast wherever they go to keep the humidity out, and Doc gets cold so easy. She wears it a week, washes it, lets him keep it a day, and steals it.
It smells nice. He groans.
“Okay,” he says. Clearly things have gotten out of control. “Time to give that back.”
His hands reach out for the zip, and she scurries back, bumping into the counter. “No!”
“It’s mine,” he snaps, because for fuck’s sake, doesn’t she – doesn’t she know what that even –
He gets on the zip and yanks, right as she says, “Obi, I’m not wearing –”
The collar crumples open, baring the tops of her small, pale breasts.
“You aren’t –” His hand jerks back, scalded. “You aren’t wearing anything –”
“You aren’t wearing anything under yours either!” She folds her arms under her chest, mortified, and that just makes it worse. Her breasts swell up against the fabric, too tempting.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “That’s because I don’t have any –” He knows better than to finish that sentence.
“It’s not a big –”
“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else,” he manages, not even able to look at her.
God, he is never going to be able to wear that shirt again, not without thinking how she was naked beneath it, and – ugh.
He mutters, “I’m going to take a shower,” and marches out of the kitchen before he can do anything real stupid, like touch her again.
I screwed up
With Obi
not possible, but continue
No, Yuzuri, I mean it!!!
He seems really mad
did u like tell him that black washes him out
did u say black isnt cool anymore
did u like insult his scarf collection? like boy loves his scarves
did u say u dont like his dad jokes???
im just sandbagging it with this one like i am dying what DID YOU SAY
Um, well, he tried to take back his hoodie
operative word tried lol
did u like wreck him? like is he a quivering mass of obi meat on the ground?
like im still trying to figure out how he would b mad like he would b way into that
like hottest moment of his life probs
OMG, Yuzuri, NO
I did not just wreck him, like
NO
He tried to take it back but I wasn’t wearing anything under it, so
hold up i think autocorrect must have like messed up ur text
lol like that make it sound like obi stripped u lol
like if only right?
Autocorrect did not mess up my text
LOL
wait like for real???
OMG
why tf are u texting me like shouldnt u b havin like
some super hot repressed feelings sex like what is happening
talk me thru this i am dying
No, I told you, he’s ANGRY
Like he told me to put on some underwear and now he’s in the shower
like a cold shower???
like what is even happening how have u guys fucked this up so bad
like did he see ur boobs like i feel like those r a good argument for hot sex
NO, no one got naked, Yuzuri
He just saw like, PART of my breasts, and then told me to put clothes on
And then went to take a shower
omg u r killin me smalls
i know u dont get that reference
bcuz ur like some woodland fairy creature who doesnt know what movies r
but u r killin me
shirayuki
No, you know what, so you can’t say I wasn’t clear
Shirayuki.
Go to the bathroom.
And give him back his shirt.
The door creaks open the moment he’s got his towel knotted around his waist, so – that’s good, at least. He’s not so naked.
“Doc?” He pushes the curtain back, and she’s standing there just as he left her, hoodie half-zipped and cheeks flushed.
He steps out, awkward. There’s no real way to impress upon her that he is very naked under his towel; not to someone a year into their PhD who should honestly know how towels work at this point. “Is there something –”
“H-here,” she says, and against all reason, her fingers pull at the zip. Turns out he was wrong about the just-as-he-left-her thing.
She has not put underwear on either. Either kind. He knows, because she took something else off before she came here.
She unzips his hoodie a little too quick to be sexy, but it’s working for him, so –
All his thoughts fizz to white noise, when she shrugs it off. “Y-you can have it back,” she tells him, holding it out.
It takes three tries to get his hand to work, and another two for him to grasp the shirt. His superb hand-eye coordination doesn’t help this time; it can’t, if all he’s staring at is just miles of perfect skin. It’s all he can really do; he wants to commit every inch of her – every curve, every freckle, every shiny childhood scar – to memory.
After all, what’s the over-under on him seeing this more than once a lifetime?
His mouth is too dry to make words work; probably because it’s been hanging open for the last few minutes. He manages to drag his jaw closed and his eyes up, following the flush that fans out over her chest all the way to where it stains her cheeks.
She must see something in his face, because she smiles like she’s pleased, like she has a secret she’s dying to tell him, and turns her back.
The view is just as good from here.
“Breakfast is ready,” she tells him, so even; like this is any other day, like she isn’t completely naked and he isn’t very obviously into every bit of her. “I’ll be waiting.”
It takes him a full thirty seconds to follow after her. He leaves the towel behind.
So just like the other ask I love your no man's sky posts. They inspire me to draw more and enjoy it, I used to visit reddit for the game but the sub is so toxic, I love being able to enjoy it
ahh!! you’re so welcome too! I’m so glad so many people love no man’s sky too (even if it isn’t out on pc yet) especially since I’m planning on blogging about it when I can finally play. It’s going to be such an adventure and I’m glad you guys are embarking on it with me
I love your robe designs. Id love to see variations by class and style. Like are there robe equivalents to frat guys with popped collars? Do the punk kids in old sweaters have old draped robes? Skinny jeans=/=skinny robe?
Oh man thank you!! For the most part, the black robes have a very consistent design, or it would lose its uniformity. They are versatile, so the collar can be popped or just laid out flat, and it’s possible to purchase shorter length robes (best for the summer time). The sleeves can also be cuffed (cufflinks!!). The longsleeve turtleneck that goes under the robes comes in a variety of styles, such as the one i drew draco in (with the sleeve wrapping around the middle finger), your typical sweater style, puff sleeves, you name it. The only limiting factor on the longsleeves would be that they must pertain to the students house colors. They can even have patterns on it (imagine draco with a snake coiling pattern along his sleeves, it’s so over the top that it’s perfect). The students would totally accessorize their robes, from embroidery to patches to pins to maybe even some purposeful tears to give it that grunge look. The kids can even open up the top half of the robes, take their arms out of the robe sleeves, and just let it drape over the belt. It can look a bit ridiculous but it does get stuffy at times. ALSO!! Winter cloaks!!
There’s so many areas I want to explore with robe design, I found some sketches I did featuring an open collar and winter cloak that I’ll include in this post. I hope to make another post in the near future elaborating on the robe capabilities as well as the longsleeve underneath (especially the latter!).
I am far more aware this morning. Man I was a mess last night. XD I should not be allowed to nightblog. *hugs* I blame it on being end of the week, freedom from work and 3am.
celesmeh replied to your post “[[MOR][[MOR]dreamwaffles replied to your post “So has anyone else...”
Its ok its just the other pieces of your mind that have broken off and formed colonies
Good an explanation as any. Probably from cracking my head open five times and the numerous concussions. My brain is living proof of the Earth as once was Pangaea separating due to tectonic shifts and earthquakes.
My brain is the Earth and the Earth is the Universe, and the Universe is Unfathomable.
The adds I get. I block them (but I see em on my phone) This is just random stuff showing up on my own feed and queue. And I thought I was just nightblogging random stuff. But nope. It's just random stuff magically appearing.
Also also. YOU FOLLOW ME. WAT? BUT YOU'RE AMAZING! I DON'T. WHY. YOU. AHHHHHH. (Okay, I'm calm, I'm cool, it's like 3am, I'm totally normal I swear, it's the Nightblog syndrome. I feel like I maybe knew this already and forgot. But it's also 3am, omg just ignore my rambles, I'm going to bed soon I swear)
celesmeh replied to your post “So has anyone else been having random shit show up in their queue? ...”
You shouldnt question your sanity, seriously, its lying. Dont ask it questions.
WTNV.
I stopped listening to my sanity at 12, but sometimes it still gets me.
Mum always said first sign of insanity was talking to yourself. And second was answering yourself.
She never mentioned what it meant when you hear answers that aren't your own. And there's no one else around.
