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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski

word count; 10,490

summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.

notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic

It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.

At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.

He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.

It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.

At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.

All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.

He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.

These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.

Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.

At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.

He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.

Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.

Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.

‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’

So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.

He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.

When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.

“Hey, neighbour.”

“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.

“What can I do for you, four-A?”

“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.

“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”

Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.

“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”

“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.

“Do you?”

He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”

“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.

Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.

Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.

“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”

“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”

“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”

“The supernatural? Really?”

“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”

“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”

“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”

It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”

He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”

“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”

“She’s a werecoyote.”

You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Have you been a witch your whole life?”

“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.

“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”

You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”

“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”

“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”

“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”

Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.

When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.

He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.

A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.

It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.

“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”

“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”

“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Is it a long story?”

“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.

“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.

Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.

He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.

You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.

He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.

You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.

“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.

The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Seems like you all need it.”

He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.

“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”

“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.

You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”

The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.

Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.

You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”

“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.

“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”

“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”

“If I stop controlling it, they will.”

“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.

That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.

His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.

You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.

After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.

Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.

You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Are you reading my mind or something?”

He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”

“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”

“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”

He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”

“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”

“You really think so?”

He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”

“Will you teach me?”

“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.

“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”

“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.

“Does that mean everything?”

“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.

“Like, right here? Right now?”

“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.

“You might just be perfect for me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.

This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.

Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”

“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.

“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.

“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”

“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.

“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”

“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.

You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.

“Perfect.”

He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.

He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.

“Stiles..”

“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.

He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.

“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”

He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.

It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.

Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.

You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.

Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.

Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.

These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.

“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”

He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.

The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.

You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.

He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.

He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.

“It's pretty incredible, right?”

He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You like feeling your magic, then?”

He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”

“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.

“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”

“My pack?”

You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.

Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;

“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”

“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”

“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”

“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”

“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”

“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.

“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”

Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.

Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.

The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.

“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”

You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”

“What should I introduce you as?”

“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”

Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”

He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”

“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.

“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”

“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.

“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”

“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.

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geminiwritten · 4 years ago

Text

jesse’s girl ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: natasha encourages you to date one of the new recruits in the hopes that it might provoke bucky to confess his feelings for you

notes: this is messy and i’m so sorry but i’ve be so stuck lately and i had to force myself to get this written! i hope it’s decent...

word count: 4744 (i don’t even know)

Three weeks ago, the only thing you could think about was Bucky Barnes. His blue eyes and the twinkle that they get when he smiles really wide, the way he flips his hair out of his eyes during a sparring match, and the smell of his aftershave after a hot shower. Everything about Bucky Barnes felt as though it was a drug designed specifically for you.

But that was three weeks ago.

After venting to Natasha and Wanda on a long overdue girls’ night, you finally agreed to go on a date with one of the new recruits who had been asking you out for almost a month. His name was Jesse, and he was one of twelve new agents that were being trained by Steve, Sam, and Bucky in the hopes of being able to help on missions where numbers were necessary.

Natasha convinced you that maybe Jesse would be the chance for you to move on and forget about Bucky, since your infatuation was very evidently not reciprocated. You were sceptical at first, but he was cute and funny, and he seemed genuine, so you agreed to go out with him.

“Hey,” you greeted, looking up at the sound of your room door opening, “how was training?”

Despite his soft smile, it was obvious that Jesse was exhausted, “Good, yeah…”

You stood from your desk and gestured for him to give you his heavy tactical jacket, “What’s that ‘yeah’ for?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, “I’m just tired.”

“Really?” you asked, following him as he sat on the edge of your bed to remove his boots.

“I mean,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t want you to think that I’m making shit up or just being a wuss but…”

“But?”

He sighed, “I just feel like Barnes is going a little hard on me.”

You frowned, unable to stop the way your heartbeat began to race, “What do you mean?”

The fitness watch secured around your wrist beeped at the sudden elevation in heartrate, to which Jesse offered you a confused frown.

You tapped the device in an attempt to shut it up, mumbling, “Stupid thing.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, thankfully ignoring the watch, “I’m probably just over-thinking it but he really doesn’t seem to like me. He made me do thirty extra laps because I asked an ‘irrelevant question’ even though Timms had just asked him how long lunch break was. And he’s always calling me out for having poor form, he gives me all the broken gear and all the shitty roles during dummy-missions. He’s never even given me a chance to lead but Timms has, twice!”

You frowned, “Which one is Timms again?”

“Frosted tips.”

“Oh,” you watched as he tucked his laces neatly inside his empty boots, “that’s rough.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I don’t know, maybe I’m being dramatic.”

You shrugged, “I don’t think so, none of that sounds at all fair to me.”

He turned to you, looking up through his lashes with pleading eyes, “Really? Because I was thinking that maybe, if you didn’t mind, you could talk to him for me?”

Your watch chirped with another heart rate warning, “Oh, um, like talk to Bucky and ask him to ease up, or…”

“Yeah! He doesn’t have to go soft on me just cause I’m dating you,” he winked badly, “but I wouldn’t mind a pat on the back every now and then.”

“A pat on the back?” you echoed, still trying to squash the sound of your watch with your other hand.

He stood quickly from the bed, gathering his jacket and shoes and pausing before the door, “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Wait,” you stood too, “aren’t you staying here tonight?”

He shook his head, “I’ve got an early start tomorrow, and besides, now you have a chance to talk to Barnes for me!”

Though you couldn’t actually remember agreeing to it, you nodded slowly and leant into his kiss as his lips collided with your cheek.

“Thanks babe, see you tomorrow!”

The door swung shut in your face, leaving you to stare bewildered at the empty coat hook stuck to the back of it.

After sitting pensively on the foot of your bed and allowing yourself enough time to process the conversation that had just taken place, you decided to go upstairs. You hadn’t spent a lot of time with the team over the past few weeks, thanks to Jesse, and you couldn’t help feeling a little sheepish as you stepped out of the elevator and into the common room.

“Oh, my!” Tony, the first to lay eyes on you, exclaimed, “Could it be our long-lost comrade?”

Clint chuckled, “We thought you’d been taken hostage, or worse.”

Before you could speak, Peter walked up to you with his hand outstretched, “Hi, my name’s Peter Parker, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

You gasped indignantly and slapped his hand away, “Watch it, smart ass.”

The rest of the group who were sprawled around the living area rumbled with laughter while Peter received a proud high-five from Tony.

“You know, princess,” Sam said, appearing beside you and placing a heavy hand on your shoulder, “I think you owe us an apology.”

You scoffed, “I don’t owe you anything, Wilson.”

“Actually,” Steve pitched in from his spot on the lounge, “I’d say you owe me some gratitude since I was the one who hired your new boyfriend.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of that word out loud. Though you’d thought it once or twice, you hadn’t yet heard it spoken aloud and something about it made your insides knot.

“Don’t say that word,” you snapped, “I- we haven’t talked about it yet.”

Natasha’s ears pricked at the sound of discomfort in your voice, and her eyes quickly looked to Bucky. He was slumped beside Steve on the three-seater sofa, his elbow resting on the arm of it as his hand supported his head. He looked as if he was doing his best to sink right into the lounge itself, his lips pressed in a thin line and grey eyes glued to the television screen.

Natasha supressed an evil smile as she turned her attention to you, “What do you mean you haven’t talked about it? You were just saying yesterday how dreamy this guy was.”

Crimson colour blossomed in your cheeks, “Thanks, Nat,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “All it means is that we haven’t spoken about labels yet, now would you all butt out of my love-life?”

“Love?” Sam exclaimed, much to Natasha’s delight.

She glanced at Bucky, whose jaw was getting significantly tighter.

“Oh, come on!” you huffed as you pushed past Sam, moving toward the sofa where Bucky and Steve were seated.

“You know, Y/N,” Nat said as you situated yourself between the two super soldiers, “if it’s not too early for the L-word then I think you should at least start using the B-word.”

Before anyone else could react or respond, Bucky jumped up from the lounge and practically sprinted toward the kitchen door. Silence enveloped the room, everyone staring at the blazing trail that he left behind.

“Well,” Sam spoke first, trying and failing to conceal his amusement, “I wonder what that was about.”

He and Natasha exchanged a knowing glance before dissolving into giggles.

“You two are cruel,” Wanda said, standing from her seat at the dining table and heading for the elevator.

“Did I miss something?” you asked.

Beside you, Steve shrugged, “Just ignore them, they’re being idiots. Buck has had a hard few weeks and he’s nervous about having to let go of some of the recruits tomorrow.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to have to get rid of anyone.”

“Yeah, some of them just aren’t performing well,” he replied, “but between you and me, Jesse is safe.”

You knew you should have felt relief, but you were too busy worrying about Bucky to even consider the safety of Jesse’s position in the recruitment programme.

“He’s actually performing really well, he’s a very promising recruit,” Steve added.

You blinked yourself out of your own spiralling thoughts, “Who is?”

Nat snorted a laugh from across the living room.

“Jesse is,” Steve said, “your boyf-”

“I told you not to use that word,” you interrupted him, standing from the sofa. “Um, I’m just going to go see if Bucky is okay.”

No one spoke a word as you exited through the same door that Bucky had moments before, and as soon as it swung closed behind you, Steve turned to Nat, “Is there something I should know?”

Her grin was nothing but satisfied, because her evil plan was going exactly as she had hoped.

Natasha wasn’t stupid, in fact, she was the exact opposite. She was an international super-spy with a genius level intellect, specially trained to be able to manipulate people and events in her favour. It would have been stupid for her not to use her expert skills and abilities on you, despite the fact that you were one of her closest friends and fellow avenger.

It all started three weeks ago when you had requested a special night in with both Wanda and Natasha. The girls knew that you were once again needing to vent about your unrequited love for Bucky, but Natasha had decided that it was time she did something to fix her best friend’s broken heart. She knew that Bucky felt the same, and not just because Wanda had told her in complete confidence from once hearing his thoughts, but because the Winter Soldier wasn’t at all good at hiding the way he felt about you. At least, not from Natasha.

She could easily see the way that you both pined for one another, so really, she was doing the two of you – and the whole team – a favour. Jesse’s feelings were just collateral damage, and she only felt a twinge of guilt for using him as a pawn to evoke Bucky’s jealous rage in the hopes that he might finally express his feelings for you.

“Are you insane?” Steve asked once Natasha had finished explaining her scheme, “Bucky is going to kill you if he finds out.”

She shrugged, “Finds out what? That I encouraged my best friend to go on a date with a cute guy? That’s hardly a crime.”

Wanda re-entered the room with her drawing pad tucked under her arm, “Like I said, cruel.”

In the gym, down on the lowest level of the compound, Bucky had changed into his sweats and begun pummelling all of his anger into one of the sparring dummies.

“Careful,” you said, stepping up to the ropes around the elevated sparring ring, “Tony just got us a new one, he’ll be fuming if you destroy this one so soon.”

At the sound of your voice his footing stuttered and he tripped forward, his thick arms wrapping around the dummy in order to stop his whole body from falling to the floor.

“Jeez,” he huffed as he righted himself, “don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry,” you blushed, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He watched as your nervous eyes searched for anything else to rest upon but him, “Don’t be sorry.”

He cursed himself for being so soft around you and turned back to the dummy before he had the chance to say anything he might regret.

“Are you alright?” you asked him, resting both forearms on the lowest rope.

He landed two expert punches to the torso of the dummy before turning back to you, a bead of sweat escaping his hairline and racing down his sharp cheekbone.

“Of course, why?” he lied.

You shrugged, “Just seem off, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” he said, “a little tired, but fine.”

Your eyes were wide, silently pleading for him to be honest, but he was too stubborn.

“Okay,” you said, reaching your arm up toward him with your pinkie finger outstretched, “pinkie-promise?”

His whole body felt warm and fuzzy, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He couldn’t resist you, so he crouched down and linked his flesh pinkie finger with yours.

“I pinkie-promise.”

The stupid sound of your fitness watch alerting you about your erratic pulse made you both startle, and the blush returned to your cheeks tenfold.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked.

You retracted your hand and quickly held the watch behind your back, “Just- uh, low battery I think, stupid thing.”

He frowned.

“I should get to bed, anyway,” you said as you backed away from the sparring ring, “I’m glad you’re okay, Bucky, really.”

You spun around and headed quickly for the door, smacking the small screen on your wrist in another lame attempt to get the thing to shut up.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky called across the gym, stopping you just before the door.

He wanted to tell you how he missed you. How he missed your smile and your voice, and the way that you would always take his side over Sam’s. He wanted to tell you that the last few weeks have been hell, and that he hated every second that you weren’t by his side. He wanted to tell you how he really felt about you, but he couldn’t.

“Jesse is really great,” he blurted out instead, “he’s a really promising recruit, and I think you two make a great couple.”

You felt as if someone had stuck a pin into the side of your heart, popping it like a balloon.

“Oh, uh, thanks, Buck,” you called back, “I really miss you though.”

Before your watch could identify another alarming elevation in your heartrate, you swung the door open and hurried into the corridor, away from the gym.

Over the next few days, you avoided just about everyone. You were confused about Jesse and still overwhelmed by Bucky, and most of all, you felt as though you were missing out on some huge inside joke with the rest of the team. You needed space in order to pacify your turbulent thoughts and decide exactly what you wanted to do next.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Wanda said, waving a hand in front of your dazed eyes.

You blinked yourself back to reality, “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“I asked if you were coming to watch the recruits after lunch.”

“Watch them do what?”

She rolled her eyes, “The sparring competition.”

Your confusion only deepened with the crease between your brows.

“Against Natasha and Barnes,” she elaborated, “didn’t Jesse tell you?”

You shook your head, “I haven’t really had much of a chance to see him lately.”

She had to fight the temptation to listen in to your thoughts, “Oh, well, Steve decided that a little friendly competition might boost morale among the recruits after they had to let two of them go last week. They’re going to spar with one another and the four best recruits will get to fight either Bucky or Natasha.”

“Holy shit,” you muttered, “that’s- uh, that’s intense.”

“I suppose it is,” she said, “are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah, of course, just a little preoccupied.”

Nearly three hours later you were seated between Wanda and Sam in the first row of the gymnasium’s modest bleachers. Tony had them built in beside the sparring ring for occasions such as this, or for watching Natasha kick Rogers’ ass as he often liked to remind everyone.

The eleventh match was almost over, which meant there were only five more until four of the recruits would have to fight Bucky or Natasha. They were quick rounds, hardly lasting any longer than five minutes each, and with every winner that Steve called you could feel your palms getting sweatier and sweatier.

“For your sake, I hope Jesse gets Romanoff,” the burly recruit sitting behind you said, he had already won his first two matches and you had no doubt he would be one of the four winners.

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning in your seat to look at him.

“Jesse’s one of the best fighters, I don’t doubt he’ll be one of the top four, but Barnes will snap him in half if he gets the chance,” the man replied.

Sam’s attention was piqued now, and he too turned around, “What the hell are you talking about, man? This is just a friendly competition.”

This time, the recruit frowned, “I know that, but Barnes hates Jesse, he’s always had it out for him and don’t think he’ll be very friendly if he’s given the chance to fight the kid.”

You turned to Sam, watching his face morph slowly into realisation.

“Wait,” you said, “I’m still confused. Bucky doesn’t hate Jesse, he told me himself that he thinks he’s a great recruit.”

The burly recruit looked from you to Sam, and then back to you as he slowly raised both hands in mock surrender.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “but this conversation is definitely above my paygrade.”

Sam turned back to face the sparring ring, obviously ignoring your confused and urgent eyes.

“Sam,” you poked his bicep, “What the fuck is going on?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, I just-”

“Next match is Jesse versus Angelina,” Steve announced, interrupting Sam, “and if Jesse wins this match, he will be the first of our final four!”

The small group of recruits, agents, avengers, and friends of avengers cheered, but you were all too confused to even muster a clap. Steve then announced that the match would begin in five minutes, so you took your chance and hurried over to where Jesse was stretching beside the ring.

“Hey,” you said, “how are you feeling?”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, excitedly planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “I feel great, I’ve got this in the bag.”

You resisted the urge to wipe your lips on the back of your sweater sleeve.

“Oh, really? I mean, you’re incredible but these other recruits are pretty tough.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “not really, they’re all fairly amateur but these rounds are just a warm-up.”

“A warm-up for what?”

“Barnes,” he replied, his gaze locked on something across the ring.

You glanced over to see Tony helping Bucky try on a few different gloves, each of them made from a variety of soft materials and reaching up his forearm and above his elbow.

Jesse sniggered, “Those gloves are a waste of time, he won’t get a chance to land one on me.”

“Are you serious?” you scoffed, “Jesse, he is a genetically enhanced, special-ops, super spy. He could kill almost everyone in this room without even breaking a sweat.”

“Almost everyone,” Jesse echoed, “you’re right, but not me. Don’t worry babe, I’ve been waiting for a chance to show Barnes who’s boss ever since recruitment day.”

You were utterly speechless, anchored to the ground by overwhelming disbelief of what you had just heard. You hardly even noticed when Jesse kissed your lips once more before Steve called him into the ring.

Slowly, you moved back to your seat between Wanda and Sam.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked, a gentle finger hooking beneath your chin to close your open mouth.

You were in shock, “That kid is an idiot.”

“I could have told you that,” Sam said, “he’s too cocky, always pushing back and refusing orders. We only keep him around because he’s shown some real skill, and because of you.”

“What?” you snapped, “Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me?”

He shrugged yet again, “Barnes asked us not to, said that if you liked him then he must be a good guy deep down.”

You glared at him accusingly before whipping around to Wanda, “Did you know this?!”

She smiled sheepishly, “Yes and no.”

“Ugh,” you groaned loudly, “why the hell is everyone being so damn cryptic lately?!”

Steve’s voice once again echoed around the gym, announcing Jesse as the winner and the first of the four finalists.

The next few rounds happened faster than you could keep up with. Every time the bell rang to signal the beginning of a match, you fell back into the spiralling pool of thoughts in your head. You wanted to find answers for all the questions you had but there was something that you didn’t know, a piece of information that you needed in order to finish the puzzle you so desperately wanted to solve.

“Oh, my god,” Wanda said, bringing you back to reality, “this isn’t going to end well.”

“What happened?”

“Jesse is going to verse Barnes,” Sam replied, trying terribly to hide the amusement in his tone.

“Is Bucky really going to kill him?” you asked.

“He’s thinking about it,” Wanda said.

Everyone cheered as Natasha was the first to fight the burly recruit from before. She had him in a headlock within seconds, but he certainly didn’t seem too bummed about being trapped between her thighs.

The next match was a muscly female recruit against Bucky, who was inhibited by a silicone glove covering his bionic arm. She was incredible, and seemed to actually give him a run for his money until Steve rang the three-minute bell and Bucky pinned her to the floor. He had obviously been going easy on her, only putting a fraction of his power into every move for the fear of actually injuring her.

After the rest of the recruits celebrated the length of time that their comrade had managed to stay in the ring with the Winter Soldier, it was time for Natasha’s second duel. She was up against a petite but lean female recruit who only had half a head of inky black hair that was braided tightly to her scalp. The fight was dynamic and entertaining to watch, even Natasha seemed to be enjoying herself with the skilled young recruit, but after five minutes passed Nat won the round.

It was nice to watch all the young recruits celebrate with each other. They were all huddled together, chatting excitedly about how great this competition was and how amazing both Nat and Bucky were. They were genuinely happy for one another and they were starting to act like a real team, all but one of them.

Jesse was back in his spot beside the ring, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands on his knees, palms facing up.

“Is he meditating?” Sam said, taking the words right out of your mouth.

“Not really,” Wanda answered him, her eyes trained on Jesse, “he’s a bit nervous, but he’s hoping that everyone is looking at him and thinking he’s really cool. He also can’t wait for victory sex tonight.”

Your stomach lurched, threatening to send your lunch back up your oesophagus, “Gross.”

The moment Steve stepped into the middle of the ring, the gym went silent, as if everyone was waiting for this fight.

“I can’t wait to see Barnes destroy him,” a voice from somewhere behind you said, “the weasel deserves it.”

“He shouldn’t even be given this chance,” another voice joined in, “it’s an honour to be in one of these matches and Jesse’s just an arrogant prick. I can’t believe he wasn’t kicked out of the programme last week.”

Steve rang the bell and the match began.

Bucky was still wearing his silicone glove so he didn’t accidentally kill his opponent, though you almost wished that he had taken it off this time.

Jesse wore a stupid smirk as he danced on his toes around the ring. Bucky had to use all of his strength not to knock the idiot out in one punch, but it was becoming increasingly difficult the longer he had to wait for the first swing.

“I know your technique, Barnes,” Jesse said, only loud enough for Bucky to hear.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, “This is a sparring match, Jesse, just shut up and throw a punch.”

“Why would I do something that you’re expecting me to-”

Bucky swung a soft fist into Jesse’s torso, knocking the wind out of him and earning a cheer from the crowd.

“Big mistake,” Jesse spluttered as he tried to regain composure.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before fluidly ducking Jesse’s first swing, and then the second and the third.

“Stop thinking about how you look while you’re fighting and focus on technique,” he said as he resisted the urge to finish the match right then and there.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Jesse’s swings became sloppy and Bucky was easily dodging every attack. The crowd were cheering and even Steve had to fight the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As Bucky moved around the ring, guiding Jesse whichever way he pleased, he searched for you. He knew it was silly, but he wanted to know if you were watching, he wanted to see if you were worried about Jesse or if you were watching for him.

The moment he found you, his heart began to race. Of course, it was already a little worked up from dodging Jesse’s careless fists, but the effect that you had was so immense it made him a little dizzy. Then he saw the corner of your pink lips quirk upwards ever so slightly and for a split second, he lost focus.

Jesse’s fist collided with Bucky’s jaw, drawing a gasp from the crowd as Bucky stumbled on his feet.

“That’s what you get for looking at my girl,” Jesse sneered.

Bucky glanced at you, worry now consuming your perfect features.

Jesse too glanced back, evoking a flicker of rage across your face before he turned back to Bucky and really put the final nail in his coffin, “I just can’t wait to fuck her tonight after I win this stupid competition.”

Wanda gasped, “Holy shit.”

“What?” you demanded.

“Oh, no,” Sam muttered.

In the time it had taken you to turn to Wanda and turn back to the ring, Bucky had begun beating the life out of Jesse and Steve was running into the ring to stop the fight.

You leapt off your seat as your watch, yet again, began beeping obnoxiously to alert you that your pulse was beating dangerously fast.

By the time you reached the side of the ring, Steve and Tony had pulled the pair apart. Bucky climbed out of the ring as Steve carried Jesse off to the infirmary. The recruits were cheering for Bucky, chattering animatedly about the events that had just transpired.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, “Are you okay?”

The pure uncontrollable anger in his eyes melted away the moment they met yours.

“Hey, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, finding a towel to dab at his split lip.

You raised your brows, “The last time you said that to me you were lying.”

He couldn’t help the silly smile that you brought to his lips, “I’m sorry, and I’m sorry that I broke the sacred vow of a pinkie promise.”

“It’s okay, as long as you’re okay.”

For a moment you simply stared at each other, hearts thrumming and palms sweating until painful realisation shot Bucky through the chest.

“Well, uh, you should probably go check on your boyf-”

“Please don’t,” you cut him off, softly bringing your hands up to his jaw, “that idiot is not my boyfriend, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Bucky whispered, his voice failing him as you overwhelmed his senses.

You shook your head, “No, I have a Bucky.”

That was all he needed to close the distance between your lips, pressing his body against yours as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.

You never wanted to part from him, not for anyone or anything, not even for air but the sudden chirping of your fitness watch made the two of you startle.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sighed.

Bucky chuckled, “What the hell is that noise?”

You laughed too, “It’s my Bucky-radar actually, because whenever there’s a Bucky nearby it beeps like crazy because my pulse starts going a hundred miles a minute.”

“Is that so?” his smirk almost made your knees buckle, “Should we test this thing out then, see how fast your heart has to race before it breaks?”

You hooked your arms around his neck, the watch still chirping, “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?”

He pressed another breathtaking kiss to your lips, stealing every coherent thought in your head.

“Oh, I’ve got a list.”

END.

#bucky barnes #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #one shot #bucky barnes one shot #steve rogers #the avengers #imagine

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swampofiniquity · 4 years ago

Text

The Luckiest (Chris Redfield x Reader) Part 2

Part Two of Two

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 2,893

Summary: Round two... and three?

Warnings: sexual content, blowjob, unprotected sex, overstimulation

Read part one here

Cross-posted to AO3

The master bathroom was what originally made you fall in love with the new house. It was huge and open, the kind you used to fantasize about when you would bang your elbow on the tiled wall every time you took a shower at your old apartment. It was technically two rooms, one for the toilet and linen cupboard, and the other housing the large walk-in shower and over-sized bathtub, both of which were more than big enough to accommodate both you and Chris comfortably.

It had been the first thing that crossed your mind when the realtor showed you the room, and you had to excuse yourself for a moment until you could get the image of your then fiance fucking you up against the shower wall out of your head.

Chris, of course, teased you relentlessly about it on the drive on home. Until you shut him by giving him a preview of your fantasy later that night.

He insisted on making an offer on the house the next morning.

Now, there you were, finally a married woman, standing topless in your mostly empty bedroom while you could hear the sounds of your husband showering in the exact location of that fantasy, and you were almost too excited to move. You took a deep breath and discarded your shorts and underwear, tossing them into the careless pile that Chris had left his own clothes. He called out for you when you opened the door and finally stepped inside the already steamy room.

“I’m starting to feel a little lonely in here all by myself.”

You laughed. “Poor baby, I’ll be right there.” You paused in front of the mirror for a second to take your hair down, noting that you did indeed get paint in it as well as various other places on your body. You were a complete mess, but your heart clenched as you realized Chris was so enamored with you that he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

The boost of confidence put an extra sway to your hips as you walked to shower door and opened it. Chris’ eyes darkened when you climbed inside.

“God, look at you, come here,” he beckoned, drawing you into his arms and under the warm spray of the shower head. You draped your arms around his neck, finding his skin slick with soap.

“Look at you,” you responded, moving your body against the impressive erection that now pressed against the softness of your belly. “Someone’s excited.”

"You kidding me? I've been hard since I came home to find you covered in paint and shaking your ass to that godawful music." Chris ran his hands down your back and took two handfuls of your ass, groaning as he kneaded your flesh.

You scoffed, but it lacked any real ire. His hands on your body felt too good. "Excuse me, but Ace of Base is a treasure and I will fight you."

“Oh yeah, you think you can take me?” He waggled his eyebrows at you and flexed his chest muscles. You snorted.

“Mmmhmm, I fight dirty.” To punctuate your point, you leaned forward onto your toes and bit into the thick tendon on his neck. The hands on your ass tightened, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Shit - I know you do, baby.”

“Only for you,” you whispered against his wet skin. Assisted by the water, you wedged your hand between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around his cock. His hips jerked forward as you moved your slippery hand up and down, applying just enough pressure to tease.

“Fuck.” He slumped forward, resting his head heavily on your shoulder. He was so tense you could practically feel his muscles vibrating.

You pressed a soothing kiss against his neck. “Shhh it’s my turn to take care of you now.”

Abruptly, you sank to your knees and Chris groaned, his hands traveling up your body as you went down and settling in your messy hair. His cock jumped as you looked up at him through your lashes, his body shielding you from the brunt of the shower spray.

“I tell you lately that I’m a lucky man?” He asked as he swept your hair back from your face to get a better look at you.

“You may have mentioned it.” You leaned forward and drew his tip ever so slightly inside your mouth. He swore under his breath and gripped your shoulders.

“Fuck, I uh, I should um probably mention it again, just so it’s clear then. Goddammit,” he groaned through gritted teeth as you started to explore his shaft with your tongue.

You felt a sudden, familiar rush at turning such a strong, powerful man into a babbling mess. Fighting a smile, you wrapped your lips over your teeth and took him in deep. His shout echoed against the tiled walls.

Going down on Chris had always been akin to a religious experience to you. It was primal, sure, but beautiful too, the trust and vulnerability behind the action. He wasn’t a man to lose control easily, but when you were on your knees for him, he damn near always did. Shaking and swearing and clawing at you while you worked him in your mouth. At this point, you knew his body just as well as you knew your own, and nothing felt more natural than using that knowledge to make him come undone.

“God, you’re so p-pretty down there, baby. M-makin’ me feel so good,” he moaned, using an unsteady hand to tangle in your hair and gently urge you to move faster. You obliged, humming around him and relaxing your throat to take him even deeper, your eyes watering from the effort.

Chris was thick enough to make your jaw ache during longer sessions, but luckily for you, he was already on the edge. You brought your hand up to massage his balls while you gradually increased your speed, letting the fingers of your other hand dig into the firm flesh of his ass.

“Fuck, baby, please ... I’m gonna come. Can I come in your pretty little mouth?” His deep voice sounded ruined, and it brought a whoosh of heat straight to your core.

You nodded as best you could, and moaned in encouragement. Looking up at his face, you saw his eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his neck and chest a beautiful shade of red. You wished you could capture this moment, while he dangled so deliciously on the precipice, so you could take it out on those lonely nights when his work called him away. He was perfect like this.

Then, the fingers in your hair tightened, the sensation just skirting the edge of pain. You shifted your concentration back on his cock, focusing on the head now, increasing suction until Chris shouted your name and finally released in thick spurts on your tongue. You swallowed it easily with him still in your mouth, the motion making his entire body tremble.

“I am the luckiest person alive,” Chris panted, as you carefully pulled away. He caught your chin and tilted your face so he could meet your eyes. “I love you.”

You beamed up at him. “I love you too.”

He hummed in contentment. As he trailed his fingers aimlessly through your wet hair, you leaned forward and pressed a line of kisses from one of his hip bones across his belly to the other. He shuddered, his warm skin oversensitive.

Laughing, you reached your arms up and Chris immediately got the hint, helping you up in one smooth motion. Once you were back on your feet, he brought you in for a kiss, sliding his tongue past your lips as you opened for him.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips.

You patted his scruffy cheek. “Mmhm you mentioned that already, babe.”

“I think you may have sucked my brain out,” he groaned.

You laughed, breaking away and side stepping him so you could better reach the shower spray. The hot water would likely be running out soon, and you still desperately needed to wash your hair. Instead of getting out and toweling off, Chris settled himself heavily down on the teak shower stool, his eyes never leaving your body.

As you started to soak your hair, you asked him - “Expecting a show?”

Chris shook his head. “I just like watching you.”

It was intensely intimate, washing yourself while he watched. Something as routine and boring as lathering shampoo felt so much heavier when you could feel his eyes on your skin, tracking every movement. It was exhilarating.

Unfortunately, the hot water cut out in the middle of rinsing the conditioner. Your skin broke out in goosebumps as the warm water gradually turned arctic. “Fuck,” you muttered, angling and contorting your body in an attempt to only have you hair under the spray. Your loving husband laughed at you.

“Want me to see if I can turn the water heater back on?” he asked once he finished.

“Nah, I got the paint out of my hair. I’ll take a more thorough shower tomorrow.” Finally managing to rinse completely, you turned off the shower. You were shivering as you turned back to face Chris.

“Come here, let me warm you back up.” He patted his thighs, drawing your eyes towards his groin. He was hard again and the sight made your knees feel like overcooked noodles.

“Already?” You asked, closing the short distance and sitting on his lap, letting your legs frame his hips. You took a hold of his cock with your cold hands and he hissed through his teeth.

“Your fault,” he growled into your neck before sucking deeply on the sensitive skin there. He was sure to leave a bruise and the thought of meeting the contractors tomorrow with his mark on your neck thrilled you.

Chris’ warm, strong arms encircled you, bringing you in against his chest, and the contrast against your own cool skin was heavenly. You moaned and your grip on his cock tightened as you worked him up and down, tilting your hips so you could rub his tip against your swollen clit. His entire body tensed beneath you.

“God, that feels good, baby. I want to fuck you so bad.” He snaked a hand between you and brushed yours away, taking his cock and rubbing it against you himself. You gasped as he moved down from your clit and pressed in, just barely penetrating you.

“Chris, please. ” You didn’t have much leverage from your position, your feet unable to reach the floor, but that didn’t matter. He seized your ass in both hands and moved you himself, picking you up and guiding you down onto his cock. You inhaled sharply as he filled you.

“Fuck, I missed this, missed you. I’m never leaving again, from now on my only job is to fuck you.” You knew it was just the moment talking, that Chris wasn’t really going to suddenly quit the BSAA, but the thought still warmed you. You loved that he dedicated his life to saving and protecting others, but the selfish part of you wanted nothing more than to keep him safe and by your side at all times.

You gripped his arms, feeling the muscles contract and release as he continued to bounce you up and down. You were still sensitive from your intense orgasm on the couch and that, coupled with how ridiculously turned you were from giving him a blowjob and the rest of your shower, had you already on edge, almost embarrassingly fast.

“Please, don’t stop,” you urged, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his shoulder. Chris responded by increasing his pace, lifting his hips to meet yours now, and forcing little gasps to leave your lips.

“You gonna come for me? I can feel how tight you’re getting, baby. Fuck, you squeeze me so good,” he panted, turning his head to kiss your exposed neck.

It only took a few more thrust before your second orgasm of the night hit you. You wailed and threw your head back, your body seizing and writhing in Chris’ grip as he continued to move and thrust up into you, prolonging the intense climax. It was too much. Too good. You were simultaneously fighting him to get away and trying to pull him impossibly closer, one hand flying to the back of his head to press his face to your chest and the other grappling with his fingers on your ass, desperate to get him to stop or slow.

Chris refused, knowing your body well enough to know that if he kept it up and you submitted, he could get you to come again. So, he shushed you, trailed loving kisses across your chest and breasts, and held on tight as you thrashed, until finally you slumped forward against him with a whimper.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. I’ve got you, baby. Relax for me.” His voice was calm and soothing, and you latched onto it like a beacon in a storm while he used his body to overwhelm yours. You took a few huge, lungfuls of air and tried to focus on submitting to the insane pleasure instead of fighting it. Your entire being was trembling as something wild built inside you.

“Think you can come for me again, beautiful? You feel too good, I don’t think I can last.” Chris’ arms were shaking now, but he somehow kept going, relentlessly pounding you on his cock. You could do little other than whine into his neck and try to keep a tenuous grip on your sanity.

When the final orgasm hit you, you didn’t black out, though it felt close. Your vision tunneled and you were hyper aware of the sound of your own frenetic breath and the involuntary spasms in your muscles, but it was if they were happening to someone else. For a blissful moment, you were outside your body witnessing your own ecstasy, before the powerful wave finally crested and slammed you back.

You screamed something, whether his name or a curse or some utter nonsense you had no idea. Distantly, you were aware of Chris answering, shouting your name as he stilled. His hands dropped you full on his lap, bringing his cock impossibly deep as he came hot and wet inside you. Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes.

“Chris,” you sobbed, chest heaving. The physical release had triggered a mental one as well, and all that stress and worry that had been weighing you down while he was away left you in a rush. The relief was palpable.

He brought two shaky hands up to your face and you felt him place a series of sweet, brief kisses to your face. After a long, gentle kiss against your lips, he spoke. “Look at me, baby.”

You hadn’t even been aware that you had closed them again, and you opened eyes to see your husband looking at you with so much love and adoration that it

brought on another wave of tears. He laughed softly and wiped them away as they fell. “I take it you needed that as badly as I did?”

You could only nod and bury your face against his chest. Chris wrapped his arms securely around you, groaning as you shifted slightly, his softening cock still warm inside you. Selfishly, you wanted to keep him there all night, but you knew that the contact would soon swing from oversensitive to painful for him, so you relaxed your inner muscles and let him slip himself out.

Chris held you for a long moment, stroking your hair and whispering honey sweet words to you as you both calmed your heart rates. It wasn’t until you started shivering again, your skin and hair still wet, that he finally stirred, turning the shower back on to clean you both up before wrapping you up in a fuzzy, warm towel.

Your legs were still wobbly, so you kept your arms locked around his neck while he dried you both off. “How long do I have you to myself this time?” you asked, enjoying the feeling of the soft towel against your tender skin.

“Barring another incident, I am officially on leave for the rest of the month. Plenty of time for you to get sick of me, I’m sure.” With that, Chris ditched the towels on the floor and stooped, scoping you up and onto one shoulder.

You squealed at the sudden shift in altitude. “What are you doing?!”

Chris playfully slapped your ass, walking into the sparsely furnished bedroom. “Taking my wife to bed.”

You giggled as he tossed you gently onto the mattress. Even without the bed-frame, the memory foam cradled your body perfectly, magnifying your boneless exhaustion. With heavy eyes, you watched Chris turn off the lights and close the door, before joining you and drawing you into his arms.

You hummed as he kissed you. “You’re wrong though.”

“About what?” he asked around a yawn. He was starting to doze almost immediately, no longer able to fight his dopamine-flooded brain and the warm security of having you snuggled, naked in his arms.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” you’re able to respond as you both nod off together.

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield smut #resident evil fanfic #what have I done???

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wisherbysharlight · 4 years ago

Text

I Wanna Get It, I Didn't Get It, Til Now

Word Count: 4084

Pairing: Analogical

The second in a series of different pairings being capital O Oblivious because that’s a trope I will never ever get tired of.

Virgil sits at the same library table every single day, alone, until one day, Logan needs a seat.

They are both kind of idiots.

Warnings: none that I can think of

AO3 Link

Virgil loved his library table. He would get there after his work study shift in the registrar’s office, around 7pm on weekdays and 1pm on weekends, and the section on the second floor would be mostly clear. Second floor was quiet but not silent, so it didn’t feel oppressive, and he didn’t feel insecure about whether his headphones were too loud or not. His favorite table was just to the left of the water fountain, had an outlet built into it, and the chairs were adjustable enough that he could lean back and press his knees against the side of the table while he typed. He loved his table so much that he’d come even if he didn’t have homework to do, just to scroll through endless Tumblr pages or work on his personal writing. He’d had his table for 3 months with no problem at all, which was why he was baffled when someone came up to him while he was reading and stood expectantly next to the table, overly full backpack hanging off his shoulder.

He recognized the other man immediately, he was another library regular who usually sat two tables away, always messing with his hair and adjusting his tie pushing his glasses up his nose and drawing Virgil’s eye with movement. He took his headphones down and put them around his neck, though he could still faintly hear his music, “Hi? Can I help you?”

“The outlet is broken on my table, and I was wondering if I could join you and utilize the other half of yours?” mystery-man asked, gesturing to where Virgil was only using two of the four outlets.

“Oh sure, of course, go ahead. Sorry about your table,” Virgil offered, brandishing his hand vaguely at the chair across from him.

“You have nothing to apologize for, of course. I appreciate your amenity. I submitted a work order request, hopefully it will be repaired soon,” the other man took the seat and set his things down before extending a hand across the table, “Logan Perry. I believe I’ve seen you here frequently so this is at least a good opportunity to get acquainted.”

Virgil blinked a bit, trying to process, then hurriedly pulled his hand out of the makeshift paw he’d made out of his sweatshirt sleeve and shook Logan’s hand so he wouldn’t think that Virgil didn’t want to, “Um. Yeah. I’ve seen you around too, I think. Virgil Storme. Nice to meet you.”

Logan tipped his head to the side curiously when Virgil leaned over, as though he was listening hard, then adjusted his glasses, “Hmm. Interesting melody. I appreciate the solid bass rhythm. Who is the artist, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“The... Artist? Oh, you mean the band I’m listening to?” he picked his headphones up but only put one ear on, “It’s Arctic Monkeys. They’re like, known, for solid bass lines, which is probably what you could hear.”

Logan hummed like he was intrigued, then began pulling books out of his bag and… wow. That was a lot of books, each one thicker than the last. Chemistry I, Physics II, Theory of Numbers, Discrete Mathematics… Virgil had a headache just looking at the titles, “Uh… Wow. That’s some collection you’ve got there. What year are you?”

“I am a first semester sophomore. I struggled choosing a major, so I opted to dual major in Math and Physics and minor in Philosophy and Conservation Studies. Also a minor in Astronomy, but that came with no extra courseload, just strategic choices in electives. I enjoy learning quite a bit, so I opt to stay during break semesters, and I am on track to graduate on schedule with no more than 18 credits a semester,” Logan rattled off, like he’d gone through the spiel before and was expecting certain questions and wanted to head them off, “And yes, before you ask, I do take breaks, I am not a hermit with no friends, and as far as I know I am not a robot.”

Virgil blinked dazedly again, trying to absorb the bucketful of information being thrown at him, “Cool. Sounds like you’ve got it under control then. I’m dual-major too, but creative writing and interactive media design have a bunch of overlap.”

Logan nodded, pulling out what must have been the notebook he was looking for with a triumphant noise, “You want to be a game designer then? Very lucrative career to choose, especially with the current market for such employs.”

“I wanna write books, actually, but like you said, markets good for game writers and I wanna have a fall back in case everything sucks, ya know?” Virgil admitted. He’d been told his stories were good, sure, but there was always a chance it would all go to shit, and the only way to account for that was to put 110% in and have a backup plan for his backup plan’s backup plan.

Logan gave him an indecipherable look that passed in a moment before he went back to his neutral expression, “Understandable, I suppose. If you would ever like a second opinion on a piece, please allow me to offer my aid. I may not be as fluent in creative ventures, but I am a fan of such works, and my roommate often uses me as a sounding board for his own ideas.”

Virgil tried not to let his surprise show, he didn’t want to offend his new… desk-mate? Acquaintance? Study partner? Whatever Logan was to him now. “Sure, uh, that’d be great. I don’t know if I can offer the same, since, ya know, science is really not my strong suit, but I can try?”

Logan pushed his hand through his hair and pulled a hairtie off his wrist to pull it up into a slightly messy bun that kept his hair out of his eyes. Virgil noticed it actually looked more red than brown as the light hit it, and was so distracted he almost didn’t notice Logan offer a genuine smile, green eyes sparkling and catching Virgil off guard yet again with just how attractive he actually was, and flipped his laptop open, “That would be much appreciated Virgil. Thank you.”

They worked together in silence for the next hour and a half, then both headed back to their dorms. Virgil felt even more productive with just Logan’s presence and aura of concentration, and he found himself hoping the work order took a while to be completed.

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The next day, Virgil arrived at his table to find Logan already there, two coffee cups in front of him, studying a tome of a textbook raptly. Still, he looked up when Virgil took his seat across from him and pushed one of the coffee cups his way, “I made myself a tea downstairs and figured I’d make a second in case you wanted one. It’s a vanilla flavored English black tea, not the garbage they serve in the dining halls.”

Virgil grabbed the cup greedily, “Oh shit this is perfect, I had an 8am and desperately needed caffeine.” He took an experimental sip and groaned a bit as it hit his tongue, closing his eyes as the warmth passed through him like a calming fire, “Thank you, Logan, it’s delicious.” He thought he heard a choking sound, but when he looked up, Logan was looking back down at his notebook. He thought he saw a slight flush to his face, “Hey, you alright?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just needed to clear my throat,” Logan insisted, though he did not look up from his book and his cheeks got even brighter. Virgil supposed he was probably a little embarrassed since he was normally so poised and put together.

“Ok, if you’re sure!” He opened his laptop and checked his to-do list, and was thrilled to realize he didn’t have anything urgent in terms of schoolwork. He opened his novel document instead, and immediately remembered why he’d left off where he did as the frustration resurfaced. Well, he thought, now was as good a time as ever to see if Logan meant it when he said he was willing to help. “Hey, Lo, could you help me find a word for what I’m trying to say here?”

Logan finally looked up from his book, sticking a bookmark in and closing it before adjusting his glasses and giving Virgil his full attention, “Absolutely, I could do with a break from formulae. Go ahead.”

Virgil felt a little off balance with the full weight of Logan’s stare, and his brain suddenly chose this moment to remind him that he was very, very gay. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his laptop so he wouldn’t be distracted, “Oh. Um. Thanks. So this guy is looking at his friend who he hadn’t really noticed in a romantic sense before, but i need a word for ‘‘momentary gay panic at how pretty he is’ without saying it like that. Like more poetic? Or just less casual.”

Logan cleared his throat, face flushing again, and Virgil had a moment of alarm when he realized he didn’t even know if Logan was ok with LGBT stuff, and oh god, what if he was a homophobe and yelled at him or he just made him super uncomfortable or - “While romantic language is typically much more my roommate’s forte, I can certainly, er, relate, to the situation you are describing, and attempt to describe it as Roman would.”

Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, relaxing once he realized the source of Logan’s hesitation was not derived from intolerance but instead from hitting a little too close to home. Then, in a moment of emotional whiplash, his breath caught again as he realized it hit a little too close to home and that meant Logan was likely attracted to men and that was nerve-wracking in an entirely different way. He forced himself to relax, knowing that Logan was likely waiting for an answer, and stammered out, “Y-Yeah, that would be good. Anything would help.”

“I believe a good way to phrase it would be ‘Suddenly caught unaware by the realization that he may be attracted to this man’. You could also describe side effects of the feeling itself, such as flushed skin or quickened heartbeat or what I believe my friend Patton calls butterflies?, rather than spelling it out explicitly.”

Virgil couldn’t hold back a grin as the inspiration hit him, “Oh! Duh! Show don’t tell would work perfect here, thank you Logan you rock!”

He didn’t miss the way Logan looked momentarily shell-shocked and made a mental note to be sure to give him more compliments in the future, if he was that maladjusted to them.

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

Virgil hissed as his pencil broke again, clicking the end to get more lead a bit more aggressively than he probably needed to. Calculus was the devil, he’d decided. He was in hell and series and sequences were his instrument of torture.

Logan cleared his throat and Virgil’s head shot up in surprise. When had Logan gotten there? Oh good, tea, that was always welcome. He grabbed the cup Logan extended towards him and started chugging before Logan could even give him the usual background on what kind it was like he had every day for the past month. The other table was definitely fixed by now, but the two of them had gotten so used to the company that they’d just kept sitting together. “Virgil, are you… alright?” Logan asked tentatively, and Virgil looked up again, guilty and a bit crazy eyed.

“Fuck that was so rude. Yes. Yes, I’m fine, sorry, thanks for the tea Lo, I’m just stressed about this godforsaken calc II exam I have Monday. I don’t understand any of this stuff,” he gestured to the packets and notebook and textbook spread out on the table.

“That’s quite alright, I’m familiar with the stress of midterms. Though I may be able to help alleviate some of yours? I am a junior TA for Calc II, I could potentially provide assistance,” Logan offered.

Virgil let out a breath of relief, twisting one of his rings in an attempt to quell some of his nervous energy, “Oh that would be incredible. My Grad TA’s office hours are during when I have work, and he’s kinda a dick anyway.”

Logan exhaled heavily like he was trying not to laugh. “Chad, I assume?” he asked and Virgil nodded, “Well I can definitely be more helpful than that glorified orangutan.” It was Virgil’s turn to be startled into laughing, “Here, let me see what you’re working on....”

An hour and a half later, Logan was watching him work carefully and when he tentatively circled his final answer he gave him an encouraging nod and a smile, “You’ve got it now. See, it’s all about the rules and the patterns.”

“Oh Logan I could kiss you,” Virgil enthused, still looking in amazement at his own work, “You just saved my entire life, thank you.”

Logan cleared his throat and turned away, though when Virgil looked up he could see that the tips of his ears were red. Ugh, you’d think after a month he’d be used to being complimented by now. “Well, if that was all, I, er, I need to work on some of my own assignments.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, I can do more practice myself,” Virgil told him, waving him away with a smile, “You’ve absolutely helped enough, I’ll get you that jam you like so much or something. I owe you so much.”

Logan mumbled something in return but when Virgil asked him to repeat it he stammered, “I’ll be right back!” and ran off to the bathroom. Virgil shrugged and went back to puzzling through the rest of his study guide.

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“-so, theoretically, there could in fact be another planet in this solar system, but it would need to be far enough away or small enough to not affect the gravitational pull of Pluto’s moons in a significant way or just in a way which is balanced by another gravitational pull which forced our equations to not identify any irregularity.”

“Well shit,” Virgil breathed, “So, theoretically, how possible are aliens?”

“Damn close to guaranteed,” Logan told him with a grin, “Intelligent life, that’s another story, but I still believe they are highly likely-”

Virgil set his head in his hands, pushing his work to the side so he could simply listen.

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

“I’m going to head down to the cafeteria to make another cup of tea, would you like to join me?”

“Sure thing, Lo, I desperately need to not look at this anymore.” Virgil felt a teeny bit of pride when Logan choked on nothing in what Virgil assumed was shock as he stood up to stretch and revealed his outfit, his heels giving him the extra three inches he needed to be what Remy called scary tall, which was actually enough to effectively tower over Logan, and the confidence to leave his sweatshirt unzipped over a mesh crop top and ripped jeans that he knew looked good, as he had been assured so around 100 times before he agreed to go to the library in it in the first place, “Sorry, forgot you got here after me, my friend’s playing a show tonight after this and I told him I’d hang with his boyfriend and make sure no one gets obnoxious. So I got a little dressed up, cuz I didn’t wanna have to go back to my apartment in between. Besides, when I’m this tall no one fucks with me in general, not just in the mosh pit.”

“That is… certainly an outfit,” Logan wheezed, then took a sip of his water in an attempt to wash it down.

“You ok L? You’re all red, I don’t need you dying on me,” Virgil asked, concerned his friend was actually drowning on his own water bottle.

Logan waved him off, gulping water down like he’d been stuck in the desert for days. “Yes, yes, just a little, erm, parched. Got a bit too focused and forgot to drink and you startled me.”

“Whatever you say, Professor,” Virgil teased, stretching his arms up to try to roll his shoulders, “Just don’t get too enthusiastic there. Last thing we need is you to choke to death cuz you were thirsty.”

Logan seemed to make a concentrated effort not to choke again, adjusting his tie and turning on his heel quickly to head down to the cafe, and Virgil considered it a win.

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

There was someone else at their table. The new man was broad shouldered, with dirty blonde hair that had just a bit of a beachy wave to it, skin tanned perfectly like he’d never spent a day out of the sun. How was that even possible? They went to school in Massachusetts and it was January. He was gesturing wildly while he spoke and Logan was doing that half-laugh he did when he thought something was funny but didn’t want to admit it and Virgil felt… something… pang deep in his stomach. Of course, Logan was ridiculously hot, Virgil had no chance at all, even if he’d been starting to feel like there was something between them. He definitely didn’t have a chance if Logan wanted someone that looked like that. He couldn’t help but be a little vindictive though as he plastered a smile onto his face and headed over, setting his bag down with a resounding thump, “Wow, this quiet corner just keeps getting more crowded, huh?”

Logan startled a bit, and Virgil could have been imagining it but he thought he saw a flash of hurt at Virgil’s tone, “I-I suppose. This is Roman, he needed some assistance with his screenplay and I suggested he come here, but we can go back to our apartment if it will be too much of a nuisance for you.”

Virgil would have eaten his own shoe to take back his original words, but he couldn’t, so he covered up as best he could, “R-Roman. Your roommate. Of course. Hi, I’m Virgil, you can definitely stay. Sorry, just had a long day at work, I’m a little - er- cranky, or whatever.”

Roman gave him a smirk that was just a tad too knowing for Virgil’s taste, “Don’t worry, Mr. Prince of Darkness. I’ll be out of your hair soon and you two can get back to doing whatever the hell it is you do every day. Just need the human thesaurus here to help me out a bit, and it’s not like he’s ever home anymore with how often he hangs around here for your little study-”

“Roman,” Logan hissed quickly, and Virgil saw Roman shoot him an unimpressed look.

“Study sessions.” Roman finished, “Now come on Pocket Protector, what’s another word for pining. I’ve already used it twice, and longing and yearning are both not quite a right fit.” Virgil had a momentary thought that Roman should be very glad looks couldn’t kill, with how Logan was glaring him down. “Nothing? How about some flowery language for black hair or blue eyes, hmm? Think you can help me there?”

“Roman Michaels.” Logan bit out, and Roman gave him a bright, shit-eating grin.

“No? How about helping me with a sweatshirt sharing scene, how about that? I mean, it’s a cliche, sure, but I’m sure we can put a spin on it, like make it clearly well used and important...”

“I will dye your hair fluorescent orange in your sleep Roman, I swear,” Logan seethed, and Virgil was stock still, eyes wide as they darted between the two roommates.

”Maybe some music recommendations then? Those are slightly less cliche…”

“Destroy your conditioner and hide your blow dryer, add cheap hair gel to all your shampoo,” Logan continued, attempting to speak over him.

“I know you’ll suggest a height difference, I believe I can fit that in,” Roman’s voice was rising too, and the new occupants of Logan’s old table were firing dirty looks at them.

“Guys?” Virgil asked quietly and both of the roommates stopped immediately, turning to him with fire in their eyes, “Um. I guess this is like... a touchy subject? But people are staring cuz you guys are sorta… loud.”

Roman and Logan both flushed brightly, turning to give awkward waves to the other table while Virgil tried to comprehend what had just happened, “So like… Logan you’re pretty passionate about Roman’s screenplay, huh?”

Roman groaned dramatically and shoved his laptop in his bag, standing abruptly. “I can’t believe there’s two people as oblivious as you,” he muttered like a curse, then almost literally flounced off with a clearly meaningful look shot at Logan that Virgil couldn’t quite figure out but made Logan flush brighter.

It was silent for a couple minutes, just the taptaptap of Virgil’s pen against his notebook sounding out through the space between them, before Virgil couldn’t take it and spoke up, “You wanna talk about why that was a thing for you or nah?”

“Y-You don’t know? Seriously?” Logan looked incredulous, then laughed a little to himself, “Virgil. He was teasing me.”

“Teasing you? About what?” Virgil asked, trying to think through what it could possibly be, “You that against, like, cheesy romcom cliches?”

Logan shook his head, still looking like Virgil had amazed him in some way, “Virgil. Please. Think about it. Black hair, blue eyes, height difference, well-worn sweatshirts and music recommendations. You don’t have any idea what he could possibly be mocking me for?”

Virgil’s brow creased in thought, and suddenly it hit him and he audibly gasped, making Logan swallow nervously, and the word pining soared to the front of his mind, “Y-You. You mean?”

“I am… Interested in you Virgil. Romantically. I have been since far before I ever sat at your table, the broken outlet just provided a good excuse for me to finally attempt to talk to you. Roman was… blunt but he had informed me that he was, and I quote, ‘Coming to see what the fuss was about’ after I got, I admit, a bit too in depth in lamenting my inability to ask you out on a date. I had no idea he would be so infuriatingly obtuse about it, I hope he did not make you uncomfortable. Obviously, you do not share the sentiment-”

“Whoa whoa. Hold on there. Who said I didn’t?” Virgil cut in quickly before Logan could keep babbling, recognizing social anxiety when he saw it, “Cuz I sure didn’t.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“You should be. Can’t go assuming stuff about people, L. Now why don’t you ask me, straightforward, if I am interested. Because I can guarantee you will like the answer.”

Logan cleared his throat, then swallowed thickly, his cheeks lightly pink, “Well then, Virgil, I like you very much and would like to know if you would like to accompany me to dinner this Friday night? As a date?”

“I’ll do you one better, since I also very much like you back, and I don’t think my anxiety could take waiting that long. Let’s go get some food right now. I’m starving and I would very much like to kiss you and I want to get at least one date in before I totally ruin your opinion of me and do that right here in this library, and Friday can be our second date, deal?” Virgil offered, extending his hand across the table to Logan.

Logan grasped his hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles with a heady glance up through his glasses, “V, I think you will find that there is not much that you could do which I would not fully endorse at this moment. But I absolutely accept this proposal. Let’s go.”

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5 years later, almost exactly to the day, Roman is insufferable during his best man speech about the fact that he is the reason they even got together in the first place, and insists that if left to their own devices they would still be meeting at 7pm on weeknights and 1pm on weekends at a table in the corner of the library with the good chairs and never, ever confessing their love. Logan and Virgil are too busy clinging to each others’ hands and staring into each others’ eyes to dispute it at all.

#analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #my writing #sanders sides fic

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sunsetcurveofficial · 4 years ago

Note

So with the prompt thing, can you do the bedhead one with Ruke? Would much appreciate it lol

oh my god. i am SO sorry, love. i swear i did not mean to ignore you. tumblr must have eaten your message, because i genuinely did not see it until today. here it is, though, and it’s extra long to make up for it. hope you like it. xx

also available on ao3

“Your bed head is really cute.”

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

Luke has always had messy hair. No matter how often he tries to fix it throughout the day, somehow a few minutes later it always looks dishevelled again. But here’s the thing. Reggie loves Luke’s messy hair. He would never admit it, of course, but the messier Luke’s hair is, the more he enjoys watching him. So, naturally, he’s also taken it upon himself to ruffle it whenever he gets a chance. Luke always swats his hands away, shoves him, and glares as he tries to fix it again, but Reggie merely laughs and definitely does not think about how cute Luke looks. Luke is his friend and Reggie loves messing with him. That’s all, honestly. It’s all fun and games until Reggie wakes up next to him for the first time, anyway.

His parents were fighting again, so Reggie snuck out in the middle of the night and showed up at the first place that came to mind. Luke’s. And Luke hugged him, didn’t make him talk, and they listened to music together until they fell asleep. Together. In Luke’s bed.

So, Reggie is a little disoriented when he wakes up with his head somehow nestled under Luke’s arm, one of his own slung around his friend’s waist. He feels something flutter in his chest when he realises, and it gets even worse when he notices how warm and comfortable he is. He never thought about sharing a bed with Luke before, and much less waking up next to him, but he finds that he actually made it through without any nightmares for once, instead feeling like he is exactly where he should be, which hasn’t happened in a very long time. It’s nice.

Luke blinks his eyes open shortly after, grinning the moment he spots Reggie, who still has his face squished against a pillow under Luke’s arm. He hasn’t removed his own arm from Luke’s body either.

“Morning, bro,” Luke says around a yawn, reaching out to flick Reggie’s nose. He scrunches it up, wiping a hand over it when Luke draws his hand back and laughs. He sits up to look at the time, and Reggie follows suit, his arm dropping from Luke’s waist, albeit a little regrettably. His eyes wander over his friend as Luke turns back to him to inform him that it’s just past 10am, and he can’t help it. He giggles delightedly as he takes in the way Luke’s hair looks even wilder than he has ever seen it before. Not even after a gig. It’s standing up in every direction, the strands falling into his eyes and looking twice as voluminous as usual. He looks adorable. Reggie does realise that’s an odd thought to have about your bro, but he can’t help it.

Luke frowns, self-consciously scratching at the back of head as Reggie keeps eyeing him, giggles erupting from his chest.

“What?” Luke asks, running a hand over his mouth. “Did I drool in my sleep or something?”

Reggie shakes his head.

“No. Sorry. It’s just… your bed head is really cute.”

He blushes the moment the words leave his mouth and he can’t believe he actually said that. Surely Luke will never let him live that one down. Luke’s blush is almost more adorable than his bed hair, and Reggie figures he should probably have a good think about what exactly it is he’s feeling for Luke. It’s not normal to find your best bro quite so cute, is it?

“Cute?” Luke asks, voice so high pitched it almost sounds like a shriek. “I’m not cute.” He pouts.

Reggie can’t help it. How is he supposed to just shrug it off when Luke is sitting right there next to him looking like a kicked puppy that is most certainly cute, even if he tries to be all cool and intimidating most of the time.

“Duh huh. Yeah, you are,” Reggie says, because now that it’s out he might as well just roll with it.

“Am not,” Luke insists, and Reggie kind of really wants to kiss the pout off his face. Okay, right. He definitely needs to talk to Alex.

In hindsight, Reggie really doesn’t know why he does it. He’s not even that impulsive of a person. If anything, Luke is the impulsive one of the two. And he’s a little horrified at himself when he leans in and kisses the tip of Luke’s nose. He blushes when he draws back, and kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole, but Luke looks so startled, his beautiful eyes so wide and his cheeks so red that Reggie feels a little comforted and manages to shrug it off with a grin. He’s done it, he can’t take it back, so he might as well pretend to be confident about it.

Luke keeps sitting there mumbling something like “What the hell, bro?” under his breath and stares at him even as Reggie gets dressed. He really needs to talk to Alex.

“You can close your mouth now, Luke. Otherwise you might accidentally swallow a fly or something,” Reggie says with a grin, running a hand through his hair in front of the mirror to fix his own bed head. Luke does close his mouth, but keeps sitting there looking flustered. Reggie has never seen him like that before, and it does all sorts of funny things to his chest. The mighty Luke Patterson, finally brought to his knees by Reggie Peter’s strange new impulsiveness. Huh.

“I’m gonna go meet Alex. See you later, babe,” Reggie tells him, and he swears Luke’s jaw drops right open again. Babe? Honestly, Reggie is on fire today.

+++

“Reg? What are you doing here? It’s 11am!” Alex says when he opens the door. Reggie half walked, half ran to get to his house, so he feels slightly out of breath. He thinks he probably looks a little disheveled as well, if Alex’s worried look is anything to go by.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Not sure,” Reggie manages to say, panting a little. “Maybe?”

Alex narrows his eyes at him.

“Okay? Well, come in. We can talk in my room.”

He leads Reggie inside and up to his room. Reggie feels the questions bubbling under his skin, itching to get out, so he jumps right into it as soon as Alex’s door is closed behind them.

“Do you think Luke’s messy hair is cute?” he asks. Alex looks a little taken aback, a faint blush growing on his cheeks.

“I mean… yeah? It’s cute enough. Why?”

“Because I think it’s cute. But that’s not normal, is it? I mean, I think about it constantly. And this morning I woke up next to him because my parents fought last night, and— have you seen his bed head?”

Alex tilts his head, something like recognition reaching his eyes as he watches Reggie pace as he keeps rambling about Luke’s hair. Reggie pauses for a moment to frown at him, but jumps right back in when the itching gets too bad. “So, I told him it’s cute. And I don’t know why I did that, because it’s weird, right? And Luke pouted, you know, that adorable puppy pout of his? Well, and then I found myself thinking that I would very much like to kiss it off, and that’s— I mean, that can’t be— What does it mean, Alex? I’m kinda freaking out a little bit.”

Alex snorts, and his frown is replaced by an amused look and a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Reggie finds it a little irritating. Alex should just tell him what it all means instead of smiling like he knows something Reggie doesn’t.

“I can see that,” Alex says dryly. Reggie wants to kick him. “Well, Reg. It sounds like you got a crush on Luke, dude.”

Reggie doesn’t have a crush on Luke. Luke is not a girl. Therefore Reggie can’t have a crush on him. Can he? No, wait. That’s a stupid thought to have. Alex is a boy who exclusively has crushes on other boys. Reggie thinks it over for a moment. He remembers Luke’s hair. He remembers sleeping in his arms. He remembers his pout, and his big hazel eyes. He also remembers his voice, and the way he gets all excited when he writes music. Or worse, when he plays his guitar on stage. Okay. So he does have a crush on Luke. That’s new. And interesting.

“Oh,” he says. “I have a crush on Luke? Oh my god! I have a crush on Luke! I’m gay, too?”

Alex chuckles fondly. Reggie is a little offended about his amusement while he’s having a sexuality crisis, thank you very much.

“I don’t think you are, bro. You still like girls, don’t you?”

Reggie thinks that over for a moment as well and comes to the conclusion that yes, he definitely does.

“Yes. But how can that…?”

Alex shrugs.

“You can like whoever you want, Reg. Like Bowie. He says he’s bisexual, because he likes both men and women.”

Reggie’s eyes light up. Like Bowie? He’s like David Bowie? Well, that’s pretty neat, he thinks.

“I didn’t even know that was a thing!” he says, smiling delightedly. “I’d love to be more like Bowie. Ha! Bowie, man!”

Alex smiles happily, getting up from his bed to pull Reggie into a hug.

“I’m glad you told me, bro. Finally someone to talk about boys with!”

Reggie laughs. He likes that prospect.

“Oh my god! Yes. Thank you for helping me figure it out, Alex. I’m a little terrified, I think, but it’s cool. I’ve got you.”

Alex shoves him playfully, his eyes searching Reggie’s as he puts his knowing grin back on.

“So what are you gonna do about Luke?” he asks. In his excitement, Reggie has almost forgotten about him. Even though Luke is the sole reason why he’s at Alex’s in the first place, and Luke generally doesn’t have a tendency to leave Reggie’s mind for extended periods of time.

“Luke! That’s right. Oh. Well… you think he might like me back?”

Reggie isn’t so sure. They couldn’t all like boys, could they? He isn’t sure why he thinks that, though. And Luke blushed rather adorably earlier, after all.

“I think your chances are better than you think,” Alex says, and Reggie swears he knows something he doesn’t again, “You gotta tell him, dude!”

Reggie hums.

“I mean… he did get really flustered when I accidentally kissed him on the nose this morning,” he muses. Alex raises his eyebrows at him.

“You accidentally…” He snorts. “Only you, Reg.”

+++

Luke is already at the studio when Reggie arrives for practice that afternoon. Alex and Bobby aren’t there yet, and Luke blushes the moment he sees Reggie. Grinning, Reggie walks right over to him and presses a smooch to his cheek.

“Hi, babe,” he says casually. Luke visibly splutters, looking even more flustered than he did in the morning, and Reggie absolutely revels in it.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Luke squeaks, nearly dropping his guitar as he tries to place it on its stand. Reggie shrugs.

“Because I like it. And you are. A babe, I mean.”

Luke looks like his head is about to explode, he’s blushing that hard. It’s the funniest thing Reggie has ever seen, because Luke Patterson is nothing if not confident. His nonchalance, however, is nowhere to be found now.

“Wh— what?”

Reggie grins and steps closer, right into Luke’s space. Their noses are almost touching, and Luke’s eyes are impossibly wide when Reggie meets them. He can feel his breath on his lips.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” he asks. He doesn’t know when he became the confident one between the two, but he’s enjoying it way more than he should, probably.

“What?” Luke squeaks again, and Reggie really has to force himself to hold back until Luke gives his consent. Reggie doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Why?”

Reggie chuckles and nudges his nose against Luke’s. The other boy doesn’t back off, and he takes that as a good sign.

“Because I like you, man. Very much so. And it’s not just because I think your bed head is cute, although that is a bonus.”

Luke kisses him. Well, that was easier than he expected. Reggie’s hands come up to Luke’s hair as he kisses him back, starting out softly but quickly becoming a little more frantic as they’re both pushing and pulling at each other. It seems that Luke is regaining his confidence, and Reggie likes that just as much as he likes him all flustered.

“You haven’t seen your bed head, babe,” Luke breathes as he pulls away after what feels like a blissful eternity. Luke emphasises the pet name, and Reggie chuckles, feeling himself blush a little for change today.

“So, are we in love, then?” Reggie asks bluntly. He figures there is no point in beating around the bush. The more he looks at Luke looking all kissed and dishevelled, especially his hair that Reggie managed to mess up just perfectly, the more he knows that he is so in love with his best friend, and he doesn’t understand why he didn’t realise it before.

Luke laughs out loud, looking fond as he reaches out to pat Reggie’s cheek.

“Yes, you dork. We are so in love.”

And then he kisses him again, and it’s the best thing in the world. They only part when Alex and Bobby appear in the studio, one of them hooting while the other makes gagging noises. Reggie doesn’t care all that much. He keeps his eyes locked on Luke for the entirety of their rehearsal, his chest fluttering when he remembers why Luke’s hair looks especially messy today, and that he’s directly responsible for it.

It’s even better when Luke meets his eyes and smiles back at him, though.

- End. -

#peterpatter #ruke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #my fic #my writing #sun-set-swerve

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feeshies · 4 years ago

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hi! big fan of you work! do you have any tips for beginner artists on tumblr??

oh hey! that’s super nice of you to say :D i’ll try to help in whatever way i can, but i’m self taught and my style still isn’t quite there yet. here are some scattered tips that helped me.

(also note that almost all of these center around digital art. i forever lost my ability to do traditional and i’m okay with that).

1. i made this tutorial about using silhouettes to help create more dynamic/readable poses or character designs. the idea of silhouettes in general has helped me immensely. i’m not always the best at coming up with poses and in the past that lead me to rely too much on photo references (nothing wrong with using refs, but i would spend more time searching for the perfect pose instead of actually drawing), but having a dynamic silhouette is a helpful first step. often times i’ll draw the outline of the figures first (this is especially helpful with comics if you want to make sure the full figure fits into a panel).

2. speaking of references, use multiple references. unless you’re doing a study, i find that i don’t like being locked into one reference. find multiple references for the pose, the lighting, the color scheme, the art style, even specific details like objects in the drawing. is the character holding a sword at one angle? collect references of as many different swords from as many angles as possible. this can help you gain a more solid grasp of the subject and makes it easier to reproduce in later pieces. if you don’t have it already, i highly recommend the program pureref for saving your references. it saved my life. i practically have a separate board for every drawing i make.

3. if things feel stagnant, change something. often times when i find myself in a rut, the easiest way to pull myself out is to change my brush. even just changing the density of my normal brush forces me to look at my art in a new way. try different programs. download a fancy new brushpack and never touch it again. slap a free texture on your piece. mix it up.

4. treat your program as an extension of yourself. make the program work for you. i use paint tool sai 2 and i have it set up so my canvas rotates with the wasd keys, since my hand is already used to that motion. if i need to flip the canvas, rotate it, change the saturation, i don’t have to think about it. it makes the process so much faster when i don’t have to take a moment to think “uh...what key do i use to pull up the eyedropper?”. this is honestly why i prefer sai to other programs like ps or csp. it’s so much more streamline so i can just focus on the process of drawing. the extra features in these other programs are helpful, but i personally find them to be distracting (also i’m just used to sai).

5. okay, i really hope this makes sense bc i don’t really know how to articulate it, but it’s helpful to try to nail down the “rhythm” in a drawing, such as breaking it down into its most basic shapes. for an example, here’s a sketch of charles offdensen from metalocalypse because i have a very one track mind.

this is what the portrait would start out like. as you can see, it’s somehow both very messy and not very detailed because i am the worst(tm). this is just a starting place to make sure i have all of the features in the (relative) right place. this could be any character, but from here that’s when i start adding the features that make the character more distinct/recognizable. this doesn’t only include the character’s clothes or hair, but their unique shapes. if you look at charles’ character design in the show, you’ll see that he’s a bunch of squares and right angles in a suit, so i tried to replicate that.

(this is really sloppy but i’m doing this fast lol) those straight lines by his head aren’t part of the final sketch, aka if i were inking this or cleaning it up, i wouldn’t replicate them. but i’ll add them to help me visualize the drawing’s rhythm. also, as you can see, my sketching style is very messy and having a simple line as a guide can help me avoid chicken scratch and leads to an overall clearer drawing later on and it makes your lines appear much more confident.

6. it helps to break scenes up, not by “characters vs backgrounds”, but by “foreground vs midground(?) vs background”. it will help your subjects feel more integrated into the setting.

okay this is getting long, so here’s a lightning round of quick random tips that helped me.

darken the corners of the mouth.

try to get away from the “ball and wire” method of drawing figures and instead try to visualize the torso as a bean (not that the ball and wire method never works, i just personally don’t care for it because it’s hard and i’m weak lol)

if you merge two of the fingers when drawing hands, you can trick people into thinking that you know how hands work

try to avoid drawing on a blank white background. your eyes will thank you.

if your drawing is easy to read, you don’t have to include every detail (in fact, often times including every detail will make a drawing appear cluttered and unbalanced)

when drawing figures interacting, try to visualize them as a single entity instead of two separate figures.

draw a blob. fill that blob with parallel lines. idk if this is helpful, but it got me through boring anthro classes and it’s fun.

there’s no shame in overusing the pen stabilizer. at least, that’s what i keep telling myself.

after writing this whole thing, i reread your question and realized that you might have been asking about posting art to tumblr specifically and i feel really dumb lol. i still hope this is helpful. if you need advice about building a presence online, i’m afraid i know even less about that. i barely even add my own name to my art lol.

#fish art #long post #tutorial #art tips #mahlowes

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years ago

Text

↪ commissioned work! for more info about my commissions, check my blog ♡

summary: as the paranormal liberation front was getting accustomed to the new members of the lov, hawks tries to get along with twice by teaching him about the teachings of the liberation army book. dabi was not having a good day when he caught them

pairing: dabi x hawks

warnings: orgasm denial, wall sex, light dom, lots of teasing and smutty content, heh

words: 2.7k

The Paranormal Liberation Front was not what Dabi expected.

Yes, the fact that they had way more money than before and could indulge themselves into pleasures they couldn’t before was definitely good, but he couldn’t stand being around as many people as he did now. Especially when they all wanted was to discuss the book that had started it all for them. There was no way in hell Dabi would spend time with any of those freaks.

As he made his way across one of the corridors, he heard a burst of loud laughter echoing coming from one of the rooms, making him stop in his tracks. He took a few steps back and peeked in the only room with an open door, finding Hawks and Twice inside, with a lot of annotations about the damned book scribbled in a chalkboard.

That was it. He was fucking done.

“Twice, get out,” Dabi growled.

“But we were--”

“Get. Out.”

In a hurry, Twice picked up his notebook and scrambled to get away, not wanting to get on the other villain’s bad side.

“What the fuck are you doing, birdbrain?” Dabi asked, leaning on the door frame.

“We were going through the book that you’re supposed to believe in,” Hawks defended himself, raising his hands in a surrendering motion as he walked closer to Dabi. “Chill.”

“No, I’m not going to fucking ‘chill’,” he said, making air quotes.

“I’m one of yours, Dabi, when will--”

Hawks’ sentence was cut short as Dabi’s took him by the throat, turned him around and pushed him against the wall near the door. The hero tried to take Dabi’s hand away, but the pressure was too intense for him. He knew better than to use his wings; he didn’t want to attract any extra attention that could blow his cover.

“H-hey, let go,” Hawks muttered.

“Let’s make something clear, hero. I don’t trust you. I don’t know what you were trying to get out of Twice, but I know you’re full of shit.”

“I don’t-- I--”

“Oi, what was that? I couldn’t quite catch it,” Dabi mocked him, a teasing smile on his face. Hawks could no longer form words, only gagging sounds as he tried to remove Dabi’s hand from his throat.

Dabi relaxed his hand a couple of seconds just to forcefully push the hero against the wall one more time. “I don’t care who you killed or whose side you claim to be on.” Dabi pressed his body against Hawks and moved his face close to the hero’s ear. “I can see right through you,” he whispered. “I--”

His speech got interrupted by an unfamiliar pressure against his thigh. Looking down, Dabi couldn’t refrain from raising his eyebrows when he noticed the bulge in Hawks’ pants. His eyes darted back to the blonde man whose face was even redder than before. Dabi let go of Hawks’ throat with the honest chuckle he hadn’t let himself show in the past few years.

“You got turned on, birdbrain?” Hawks ignored his question and tried to push Dabi again, but the villain wasn’t having any of it. “You have a boner because I was choking you,” he said, laughter still escaping from his mouth as his shoulders shook a bit.

“No, move away,” Hawks muttered, not meeting his eyes.

“No?” Dabi asked, a playful smirk on his face. “Then why? Was it because I pressed myself against you like this?” he flushed himself against Hawks, this time making sure his thigh was between the hero’s legs.

Dabi was more than ecstatic when a soft moan escaped from Hawks’ lips.

“Fun,” he whispered, licking his upper teeth as he watched in awe the hero covering up his mouth.

“Fuck,” Hawks cursed under his breath. He rolled his eyes. “It’s just one of those days, don’t get too cocky.”

“One of those days? Are you in a rut, birdbrain?” Dabi teased him. He lowered his hand and cupped Hawks’ crotch, earning yet another groan from the hero. Amused, he began palming him, feeling him getting harder with every movement of his hand. “How long has it been since you fucked someone? You’re practically humping my hand, hero. Or….” he paused, his hands still against Hawks’ hard on, “did you just want to fuck me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hawks looked into his light-blue eyes while panting, trying his best to compose himself. It had been a while since he had had the time to mess around with someone, but it was something he didn’t think he had to take care of. There were so many things at stake at that moment that it had been pushed to the last of his priority list. The thought about fucking Dabi right into that room intoxicated him the longer he was uner the villain’s stare.

Hawks let out a breathy moan when Dabi’s fingers traced his length, his thumb drawing a lazy circle around the tip. The black-haired man was looking at him in awe, amazed at all the reactions he was eliciting.

“Lock the door.”

“What?”

“Lock the door,” Dabi repeated, rolling his body against the hero’s body, making him shudder. Hawks nodded and stretched his arm, trying to reach the door handle. He pressed the button and before he could return to his previous position, he felt the villain crashing his lips against his.

He would lie if he said he hadn’t pictured kissing him before. Dabi was very pleasant to the eyes. No, he couldn’t care less about the burnt pieces of flesh securely stapled with healthy skin-- in fact, it was alluring in a way. He knew there was no chance Dabi would ever talk about them, so they had a tint of mystery that pulled Hawks’ interest from the very first day.

He returned the kiss, Dabi’s hand still working against his crotch. The kiss was messy, fierce, teeth clashing now and then while tongues fought against each other. Dabi bit Hawks’ bottom lip in rhythm with a hand movement, making the hero curse under his breath.

Without breaking the kiss, Hawks felt Dabi’s hands tugging down his pants along with his underwear.

Should he…? If having the occasional daydream about sucking Dabi off was already on dangerous territory regarding his double-agent status, this was definitely crossing the line. He should have given it more thought before locking the door, but the look the villain had given him was more than enough to stop any attempt of thinking his options through. The villain moved his lips to the Hawks’ neck, kissing and looking for that special spot that would make the hero roll his eyes. Dabi’s hand was warm against his erect cock, using the precum Hawks had let out as a lubricant to slide his hand with ease. Hawks grabbed the man’s shoulders to steady himself, his legs shaking a bit every time Dabi’s hand got to the tip of his cock and made a heavenly twisting motion.

“Fuck…” Hawks breathed out, bucking his hips against Dabi’s hand. As a response, he got pushed against the wall once more with the villain’s free hand.

“If we’re doing this, you just do what I tell you,” he ordered him. Hawks swallowed and nodded, trying to control his breath as Dabi continued his ministrations. His icy-blue eyes were fixed on the hero’s golden ones, taking in all the soft expressions he was making under his touch. “Take off your shirt.”

Immediately, Hawks did as told, letting his jacket and t-shirt fall to the floor next to him. Dabi had expected that task to be more difficult due to the hero’s wings, but it seemed it only took a practiced tug in front of his clothes to make them slide away with ease. He took the chance to take his jacket off as well.

“Good,” Dabi murmured, tracing the hero’s abs with his fingers. His free hand trailed to cup his face, his other hand never stopping its stroking motions. “Suck,” he instructed, pressing his index and middle fingers against Hawks’ mouth. A part of the hero’s mind felt ashamed at how easy he gave in to Dabi’s orders, his tongue swirling around the fingers in his mouth.

Once Dabi’s fingers were coated and dripping with saliva, he took them out and guided them to Hawks’ entrance. He slowly inserted one finger inside, stopping halfway. Even if the moan that Hawks had let out made his own cock twitch, he knew in any moment someone could pass by the corridor he was just at and could easily hear their activities. The hands that were in Hawks’ cock went up to cover the hero’s mouth.

“Listen, you little shit. This hand can either stroke your cock or silence your moans. Where do you want it to be?”

Dabi didn’t miss the way Hawks clenched around his finger. The hero nodded and Dabi took his hand back to stroking his length. Hawks’ arms were shaking, trying to hold himself on the wall as Dabi kept working his way inside of him, flexing his digit to make space for later.

“You’re so, so needy…” Dabi whispered with a soft chuckle. He captured Hawks’ lips in his, this time a lot more slowly. He took his time to savor every inch of his mouth and didn’t pull away as he inserted a second finger. Dabi drank the moans Hawks made and rolled his hips against him, trying to do something about his own hard on.

That was enough for Hawks’ hands to leave his shoulders and start working on the villain’s pants. He undid the button fairly quickly and took out his pulsating cock. Dabi took it as a compliment when the hero’s eyes widened as he wrapped his hand around him, starting an erratic but firm pace that made him growl against his mouth.

Dabi separated his fingers inside of Hawks, trying to rid himself from all thoughts as he did so. It wasn’t his first time with a man but it certainly was the first time he had taken this much time when prepping someone. Hawks let out a whine and tightened his hold on Dabi’s cock, making him groan in response. The hero muttered an apology to which the villain only laughed. It had certainly been quite a while since he had had this much fun.

“I think you’re more than ready, birdbrain,” he said in between kisses and removed his hands from Hawks’ body. Grabbing him from the shoulders, he turned him around and, slightly bending him forward so his wings didn’t get in the way. Hawks hissed at the coolness of the wall against his chest and then turned his head around to look at Dabi.

In a swift motion, the villain took down Hawks’ pants to his ankles and then pressed his whole body against his. Spitting into his own hand, he tried to lubricate his cock a bit more before lining himself with Hawks’ entrance. He felt Hawks’ trying to eagerly push back and felt himself twitching at the image of it. He parted the hero’s legs further with his foot and started pushing into him slowly, his eyes rolling back when he was fully inside. Dabi’s hands were grabbing Hawks’ hips so hard he was more than sure that he would leave marks.

He smirked at that thought. He definitely wanted to leave Hawks with a little souvenir.

Dabi started thrusting with a relatively quick pace, muffling his grunts on the space between Hawks’ neck and shoulder. He was trying his best to control himself, but the same couldn’t be said for the hero. Hawks’ moans were getting louder, and even if he was biting his bottom lip, it seemed he couldn’t control himself anymore. Dabi’s left hand went to cover his mouth while the right was still holding a tight grip on Hawks’ hips. He hated everything about it. He hated how insanely good the hero felt around him, he hated the sounds he was making, he hated that every time he faltered, Hawks’ hips were pushing against him, retaking the lost pace.

He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying it that much. He knew that it should be more about power and lust, not about--

“Please, keep-- please,” Hawks moaned against Dabi’s hand.

Well, not about that.

Dabi removed himself almost completely from Hawks to give a particular hard and deep thrust inside of him.

“Like this?” he teased him, feeling his left hand soaked with drool. He repeated the movement and saw the hero’s eyes going blank. After a low chuckle, he started a rapid pace, aligning himself to he was sure he was hitting his sweet spot.

Soon enough, he felt Hawks tightening around him, the hero’s hands scrambling down to touch himself. Dabi swatted his hands away and put them back on the wall.

“Oh no, you’re not coming yet, birdbrain,” he said. “You have to wait until I tell you to,” he smirked, slowing his pace to make sure he would last a little longer. He was not willing to let it end now. He heard Hawks mumbling something unintelligible against his hand, but didn’t make an attempt to touch himself again.

Dabi’s right hand travelled to the hero’s hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling his head back. Hawk’s wings stretched out, giving Dabi a spectacular look from behind. He gave a long lick to Hawks’ neck and then pressed his mouth against his pulse point, his grunts and heavy breathing more erratic than before. Hawks tried his best to move his hips and match the villain’s moves, his ass moving in small circles whilst having the other man inside.

“Fuck, Keigo,” Dabi moaned, his head falling on the hero’s shoulder and biting down on it. Hawks’ mind went all over the place. He was more than sure that he had never told him his real name. He must have looked it up somewhere, right? Magazines showed his real name sometimes. That was the only expl---

A hard thrust in a particular delicious angle erased all his thoughts, his back arching back in pleasure. Dabi’s thrusts were almost feral after that, his right hand back to the hero’s hip.

“Please, let me come,” Hawks begged once more. Icy-blue eyes met gold and he saw the villain smile.

“No.”

Dabi started to stroke Hawks’ cock matching the rhythm with his thrusts. The hero’s legs almost faltered, the hand on his mouth the only thing keeping him from loudly whining.

“Please, fuck-- Dabi please,” Hawks moaned. “I need to, I need--”

“You have been a good little bird, right?” Dabi grunted, his hips never stopping.

“Yes! Yes! I’m-- I have-- Yes,” the hero panted.

“Hmmm…” Dabi hummed. He stayed in silence for a moment, enjoying the pleading sounds coming from the hero’s mouth. “Then I guess you’ve earned to cum.”

Only a couple of seconds later, the number two hero, the double agent in which the Hero Safety Commission had put his faith in, had the best orgasm he had ever had, spilling himself all over the wall in front of him. The view of the muscles of Hawks’ back tensing while his wings shuddered plus the way he felt himself deliciously squeezed sent Dabi over the edge as well, filling the hero with his release.

Both of them stayed silent, basking in the post-orgasm glow, heavy breathing and just now noticing the smell of sex that was filling the room. Dabi felt his t-shirt sticking to his chest thanks to the sweat and regretted not taking it out earlier.

“Get out, hero,” he breathed out against Hawks’ ear. His lips lingered against the hero’s skin for a moment too long and then he slid himself off of the other man’s body. Dabi put himself back in his pants and watched Hawks scrambling to dress himself again. He didn’t look at him either as he tried to comb his hair with his hands to cover up what he had been doing, his wings fluttering a bit to hide the smell in his body.

Hawks left the room without saying a word, leaving Dabi alone with his thoughts. He found himself smirking at the recent memory, knowing that he’d find a way to be alone with the pro hero one more time.

He was definitely dying for another taste.

#bnha #bnha hawks #bnha dabi #takami keigo #keigo takami #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #dabihawks #hotwings #allie does commissions

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trashogram · 4 years ago

Text

Ryuk/Reader 3: Confident

A/N: I don’t know if I like this one. Reader is more evidently female as these progress. Should I post these on AO3? They’re not linear so I’m hesitant to do it.

He was lying on his side on the couch, head propped up by one hand. The furniture you could afford was small and if he stretched out to his full size, Ryuk would’ve hung off both ends by a generous amount. It was far better than constantly laying on the ground, and that stupid rug, though.

The god reached out with one lanky arm, poking at the coffee table in front until he got a good grasp of the remote and began channel-surfing. The door to your bedroom creaking open made his ears perk.

“You’re gonna come out?” He twitched, but otherwise remained at rest. Your footfalls sounded against the dingy floor as you moved behind him.

“I would never keep a mirror in my bedroom.” You puffed away a few strands of errant hair as you marched over to the bathroom and turned on the light. You squinted, half to brace against the harsh light and half to keep from actually looking at your reflection.

“You think the first thing I wanna see in the morning is myself?” You asked incredulously.

It had the intended effect of making your shinigami laugh, and you took a second to smile at your accomplishment.

“Better’n seein’ me hangin’ over you, I’ll bet.” He called from the other side of the room.

You saw yourself in the mirror.

“I hate this. I hate clothes.” Not a fact at all. You’d garnered a renewed interest in fashion back in school. You’d also been thinking about clothing a lot more since your new companion had “appeared” and never left your side. His image was a constant in your mind, regardless of the rules of possession.

No one quite looked like Ryuk, nothing ordinary anyway. But then when you looked at horror-themed art and monsters from folklore, it stuck out to you that nothing dressed like him, either.

Which was a damn shame, to be honest. You’d have never expected the grim reaper to be dressed like a goth punk from the 1980s, with leather and chains and shiny jewelry. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a fascinating idea.

Fascinating enough to push you into spending the weekend looking for new things to wear, a particular theme in mind. It made you nervous, but it was easy to engage Ryuk when you reminded him that the mall had a Gamestop as well as boring clothes.

Now, you sighed. “This was such a waste of time. Why did I even do this?”

Lifting himself up by the back of the couch, Ryuk peered over the edge of the side. Nothing on TV, never was anything on TV.

Still, he was already regretting getting up from his previous position, as the light from your bathroom was too much in the otherwise dim apartment.

He opened his mouth, ready to tell you to quit whining, to put this off until tomorrow in broad daylight. But he stopped short.

You were in front of the mirror, leaning on the countertop and over the sink with a worried expression on your face. With your back turned to the shinigami, however, he was quick to divert his gaze from your face to your backside.

It wasn’t as if Ryuk had never seen you in a dress before, but nothing you ever wore was quite so… short. Not like this. The length of the skirt was just shy of your mid-thigh; if you were to lean over any further, he’d be able to see your panties no problem.

Regardless of your attempts at modesty - often changing behind your bedroom door or in the bathroom after demanding he wait outside - Ryuk had seen your undergarments. You could get careless; messy. Laundry was sometimes strewn on the floor, and when you got up in the morning, he almost always caught a glimpse of your underwear before you pulled on your pajama bottoms.

“The blankets are warm enough by themselves, don’t need pants.” You’d said once, so easily embarrassed.

This was different, though. You were too distracted to be on the defensive. Instead, you leaned forward even further, adjusting the front of your all-black outfit and revealing more of your soft skin. No trousers or leggings covered your legs, leaving you bare and showing how shapely you were.

There were white and green stripes briefly visible, hugging your bottom beneath the skirt before you straightened up.

You’d finally noticed him gawking, and your face went flush.

You turned around, still gripping the counter with one hand to keep steady. “It’s not the worst thing you’ve ever seen, is it?”

He’d had enough time to shift his pointed gaze from your rear up to your face. But the pout on your lips at his continued silence made Ryuk draw in a ragged breath. He rose from his seat and stretched a leg over the sofa like it was nothing, before looming over to get a closer look at you.

With your head craned back, looking up from your lashes at him expectantly and giving him a look at the extra little things you’d done. Your lips were glossy and your eyelids were the color of ash, and there was blood rising beneath your cheeks to emphasize it all. A little chain hung around your neck, basic and silver but complimenting how shiny you’d become.

He reached for you. His claws touched the hem of your dress, dipping beneath ever so slightly so that he could feel the warmth radiating from you. He hadn’t eaten for hours, but Ryuk swallowed back a mouthful of saliva as if he was holding back.

“Ngh.” Was his eloquent reply.

You blinked up at him, head cocking to the side in confusion. It looked so genuine, but it couldn’t possibly be. You were acting, joking - you had to be fucking with him.

His personal shyness wasn’t a secret by any means. By all the punishments known to his kind, he’d had such a hard time getting used to just being touched by you. Now you were here, looking sweet enough to eat.

The rumbling in Ryuk’s chest took time to build up into a laugh, like the starting of an engine or revving of a motor. It startled you into jumping back, away from his frame as it began to shake.

“You’re a real riot, kid.” His cackling was hollow.

But any falseness or dry sarcasm escaped you as you scoffed at him, fully offended. “Oh, I’m glad this is hilarious to you, too.”

Ryuk stopped eventually, and mimicked your prior head tilting. “Aww, come on. Don’t do that.”

The familiar grin on his face was stretched tight, but you barely noticed.

“Do what?” You grumbled, looking away.

As with his reaching for you from before, the spindly fingers that came to tip your face toward him again did not startle you so much as confuse you. You could feel his nails resting under your jaw carefully, even as you were focused on his eyes, far redder than you’d ever seen them before.

They were glowing as he stared at you.

“Don’t pretend to be shy, lookin’ like that.” Ryuk’s natural hunch seemed to accentuate, so close as he leaned down toward you that you could feel his words more than hear them.

He was so close, more to reiterate the irritation he felt at your attempts to remain like a deer in headlights. Ryuk couldn’t pinpoint his annoyance exactly - was it your joking that crossed the line or how pathetic you were, still pretending innocence. Or was it the frustration of seeing you now and knowing that you very well were so insecure that you couldn’t fathom being desired at all, by anyone? Or any thing, in his case.

Your lashes fluttered. “Ok… I’ll go change, then.”

You pulled away, awkwardly side-stepping the god of death. You headed back to your room, but not without noticing that Ryuk wasn’t following you.

He stood in the same spot, watching as you shut the door behind you.

#ryuk #death note #ryuk x reader #saucy lmao #more ooc stuff ofc #again pls don't comment about how weird i am #i know

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lunerbean · 6 years ago

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Witch Tips 22

Don't forget to checkout the #10tips tag on my blog for previous and future witch tips posts! I post 10 tips for every 100 followers I get, so these all happen because of witches like you!! Thank you so much for your continued support. I really do appreciate all of you dearly.

1. Get to know the planets

Even if you're not a cosmowitch/space witch, planets can have an impact on your craft. They are powerful, beautiful forces of nature. Love them and connect with them. Learn a little about them. There are even websites that track which plants are currently visible in the night sky in your location! I just love those mysterious spinning orbs.

2. Two crystals of the same type can have different energies

Just like people, each crystal has gone through a different life and has been effected by the energies around it. You may feel more power coming from one than the other. Or, for example, one amythest crystal may be waaaaay better at fueling creative energies than another of the same kind is. Get to know your crystals can help them work to the strengths.

3. Don't allow witchcraft to negatively impact your health

I know this sounds crazy like, "how could this possibly happen?" But there are some things I've noticed that could be taken to dangerous places if used incorrectly. Be sure you're putting your physical health and your mental health above all else. Witchcraft doesn't have to be a chore and it certainly shouldn't be something you dread doing everyday.

4. Treat shields like the lock your house - don't give away the key. And change the locks when you break up with someone.

I recently went through a really messy breakup. He told me yesterday that he was excited for the full moon because he had some spells he had been wanting to do. I'm worried, not because I think he's going to do anything intentionally malicious but because he's new to magick and may try something to coerce me into forgiving him for the shitty things he's done to me. Of course, I can't know for sure if that's the case, but it inspired me to be more cautious and put some extra protection spells and sigils up. Even if someone's intentions are pure, they may perform spells on you that are unwanted or dangerous to your thoughts and mind.

5. Charge your perfumes/cologne with your intentions

This can be a great way to enhance confidence, attract love, repel negative energy, and so much more! It's also a super easy way to include witchcraft in your everyday life! If you don't wear any body sprays, this can also be used with lotion, hair care products, or anything else that you put on your body every day.

6. You can do witchcraft in your sleep!

Sticking a Lapis Lazuli under your pillow can help with prophetic dreams or just good dreams in general. Using a lavender spray on your pillow can help with getting to sleep quickly and feeling relaxed. Sigils under your pillow can help draw in positive dreams or make you remember your dreams better. Amethyst and Angel Aura can help with lucid dreaming. If you have any intentions while sleeping, I highly suggest you look into other crystals or oils or herbs that can help get you accomplish these goals!

7. Witchcraft is about working with the universe -not defying it!

Witchcraft is about a connection, a oneness with the universe. Every person, every animal, every plant, every speck of dirt is a part of this universe. Witchcraft is about willing the universe to assist your needs/desires and having a mutual understanding with it. Don't get angry at the universe, because when you're angry at the universe you're angry at yourself. And you need to love yourself; to work with yourself. Be mindful of this when practicing any type of witchcraft.

8. If you can, get yourself a selenite bowl!

I saw one awhile back when I was traveling and I'm still kicking myself for not buying it. Selenite is great for charging other crystals and it never needs to be charged, because it charges itself naturally! If you get a selenite bowl to place your smaller crystals in, you've always got a charge not matter what phase the moon is in.

9. Your body needs charging, too

This is extremely subjective to you as a person. Your mind is your main tool in witchcraft. Sometimes it loses it's charge and sometimes your body feels really bad for no reason. (Quick note: I'm not claiming that anything I'm about to say will cure mental illness or chronic pain or anything of the sort. I'm talking about something else entirely but that also isn't to say that people with those types of conditions won't benefit from a nice charge. I have clinical depression and this still benefits me, yet doesn't change the fact that I have a mental illness. Just wanted to put that out there) I'm a pisces, so I'm a water sign. I've also just always been extremely drawn to water. When I was a kid, I'd always take long showers when i wasn't feeling well. Even as an adult, that's always my first step when something is wrong with me. When I moved from the desert to the PNW and started experiencing way more cloudy days and rain than I was used to, it helped me drastically. I always was happier when it was raining. I think that rain and water are the best way for me to charge myself. Explore your own ways of self charging. It doesn't even have to have anything to do with the elements, or the element of your sign. Maybe food charges you, or sitting in grass, or star gazing, or chugging water, or exercise, or any number of other things. Explore it. Charge yourself. Take care of yourself.

10. Your spiritual teachers do not need to be other witches. Or even people.

Sure, you'll want to ask other witches about certain things like spells or crystals or anything else. But that's not to say that they're the only people you can learn from. I already went on my Oneness with the Universe Ramble earlier in this post, so I'll spare you from having to read it again. You can learn about witchcraft and spells and magick from everyone around you. And every thing! Let the rain teach you how to cleanse. Let the earth teach you how to nurture. Let the little kid in your neighborhood teach you how to free your mind. Let the animals teach you how to care for yourself and love yourself. Everyone in the universe, be them human or otherwise, has something to teach you. And you've always got something to learn.

Thank you so much for reading my latest #10tips. Check out my blog for previous Witch Tip posts, or for answers to any questions you may have, or just for some random witchy things. Sometimes nonwitchy things too, idk I get in social moods sometimes and really like interacting with my Little Beans. I hope you found this helpful and have a magickal day!

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cringyanimename · 5 years ago

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Storyteller (Updated)

Hello lovely readers welcome to the Sesshomaru x oc story I’ve been talking about.

Chapter 1

"Once upon a time there was a rabbit. To her the world was full of frightful and dangerous creatures. One misstep would be her end, but she was fast, she was quiet, and she was clever. She defied the world determined to swallow her whole, and she defied the fox"

Aria closed the notebook as the taxi came to a halt, in front of the Higurashi household. The surrounding woodland was mysterious and foreboding, the kind of setting that drew the young woman in with promise of adventure. She gathered her belongings from the taxi and thanked the driver and bid him farewell. It had been a good 6 years sense she had been back, news of Kagome's poor health reached Aria all the way in America. She came as quickly as she could.

The knock on the door was answered by Kagome's mother a kind welcoming figure. She wore a cooking apron and tied her messy hair into a bun.

"Aria? Is that really you? It's been too long Come in. Come in." Aria was ushered inside by Kagome's mother "You must be tired, and hungry. I'm making stir fry I'm sure there will be plenty."

"That's alright ma'am, I really just want to see Kagome right now. How is she?"

"She's at school for now. She will be home soon, and don't you worry she has been well" Mrs. Higurashi returned to her cooking and began to hum. Aria nervously sat at the kotatsu table. The warmth of the burner gave her some relief from the cold room. Aria noted that her sick friend might fair better if the house were warmer. Mrs. Higurashi stopped humming.

"How is your father doing? I've been meaning to ask him, when will his most recent book will be translated?" Aria took a moment to ponder the question.

"He… Hasn't spoken to his editor recently. I've been trying to get Marcus to take over the project, but he's not one for extra work."

"And your books?" She asked. "You know Kagome had translated one recently for her English class, She got a decent grade so I assume it was well done on her part."

"Yeah, I can't imagine Kagome doing poorly, kids a genius" as if summoned by the conversation the door opens to reveal a disheveled teenage girl.

"Mom, I'm home." She said.

"How were your classes sweety" Mrs. Higurashi asked not looking away from her task.

"Good, well kinda good, okay not good. I got a 76 on my math test,"

"I'm sorry Kagome. Aria's here to see you. Maybe that will cheer you up" Kagome rounded the corner and sure enough there she sat.

"Hey." Aria patted the seat next to her, and Kagome happily plopped down. Her bright eyes and face pink and clear didn't go unnoticed by Aria.

"You look like you've been doing better," Kagome turned her head sharply.

"Where did that come from?"

"You've been sick," was Aria's deadpan answer.

"Oh right! That, yeah I've been doing good." She said cheerfully. Aria crossed her arms a flicker of a grin passed her lips.

"I can tell," she said, her tone and expression made Kagome shift a little. "It's almost as if you were never sick at all," Kagome puffed out her cheeks.

"Just what are you trying to say?" Aria put her hands up.

"Not that you're playing hooky. No, you would never." Kagome met Aria's expression with a grin of her own.

"You're right there. I've been staying out of trouble without your bad influence."

"Such a shame," said Aria. "Trouble is half the fun of friendship." Kagome struggled to keep a straight face.

"I never said we were friends."

"You wound me."

They were joined that dinner by Kagome's younger brother Souta who didn't remember Aria, but was thrilled to have a guest who was so talented at spinning stories, and kagome's grandfather, who did remember Aria, too well in fact. Aria danced around the topic of Kagome's absence from school. Kagome's answers giving away just enough to tip off that something was amiss. The flash of intrigue in Aria's eyes did not go unnoticed by Granpa Higurashi.

The next morning Kagome was gone, to the hospital her mother had said. Aria pressed to find out which hospital. Mrs. Higurashi gave a Japanese sounding fake hospital name, forgetting that despite it being her second language Aria was fluent in Japanese.

Something had always been up with this old shrine. Aria remembered it clearly. Grandpa Higurashi always warned Kagome and aria to stay away from this or that. He had the answers, and Aria was finally going to draw them out.

She found him in the shed stacking gardening equipment.

"Let me help you" she said.

"Thank you very much, but I can do this myself." He protested, but still handed her the tools to stack on a higher shelf.

"I have no doubt, but if you don't have to do something alone why would you?" Aria set about preparing her next comment carefully "Remember how you used to tell me and Kagome not to run around in the forest out here. We still did, but we were much more careful thanks to your guidance,"

"I know what you're up to, and it wont work." said the ever insightful old man. Aria quirked an eyebrow, attempting an innocent face.

"What do you mean?" Aria dared him to spell it out, but their wits were matched, it would be a matter of patience, a skill Aria had carefully cultivated. The old man huffed rather than dignify her with an answer he moved on to the next chore, and she followed him.

"When will she be back?" Aria asked. Grandpa Higurashi sighed and looked into the distance. Aria followed his gaze to the bone eaters well. The two had been caught close to the well once. She had never been in so much trouble.

"I don't know, she never tells us,"

"Well of coarse she can't tell you when she'll be discharged from the hospital," Aria carefully gauged Grandpa Higurash's reactions, and it played well into her favor to see him turn away from the well, and nervously glance back again.

"So," she continued "Where is Kagome really"

"What? At the hospital where else?"

"Not at the well then?" Aria knew she could be wrong, but as they say confidence is key. The old man's face that was once twisted with irritation dropped.

"Stay away from the well." came his dire warning.

"Why?" Aria pressed.

"You don't want to know what is at the bottom," He turned and walked away from her, and she stepped in front of him.

"Here's the thing though, I really do." The well had always called to her. It was dangerous mysterious and most of all tempting.

"It is not for you to know,"

"it is for Kagome to know," Aria stated. The air was thick between them as silence brewed. Aria waited for his response but it never came. She already knew where to find Kagome, she didn't need him to confirm it.

That night Aria borrowed some emergency supplies from Mrs. Higurashi. She expected to find a path near the well that would lead her to Kagome. Grandpa higurashi's words echoed in her head. She decided to check the bottom of the well first. She opened the door of the shack surrounding the well. It was near pitch black inside, she waited and listened, when she was sure she could continue passed the threshold she turned on her flashlight and shut the door behind her. There was nothing spectacular about the old building. In fact if it were not for the constant warnings and threatening ambiance, Aria could see herself camping out in there.

As she approached the well her usually whispered footsteps met the groan of a loose board, telling all of the empty building that there was an unwelcome guest. The room was empty. Aria knew that. She knew it. She did. The wood of the well was splintered and rotten, but sinking into the pit was a white nylon rope tied to a nearby beam. Not something you'd expect in an undisturbed centuries old building.

Aria shone her flashlight into the well, she couldn't make out the bottom, but assumed the rope would reach. Aria considered her options, she was no longer sure if she truly wanted to know what was at the bottom.

'Kagome' She thought 'she's at the bottom, or at least a way to find her is.' she took the rope and began to climb down. The well seemed to breath around her. She thought she must have left the door open. When she reached the bottom she set about looking for a hatch, or a door of some kind. When that failed she searched for even some sign left by Kagome, but there was nothing. No signs no door no danger, just old wood and dry dirt.

"I guess sometimes a well is just a well," She said softly. She was more excited than she realized, at the prospect of a conspiracy style adventure. She began to look for the rope, but found creeping vines in it's place. Her gaze followed them up to find a sky full of stars rather than the roof of the well house. Aria froze. Confusion, uncertainty, fear, and thrill jumbled together and overwhelmed her. Her breath sped out of her control and she had to brace herself on the wall in an effort to ground herself in reality. She needed out. With adrenaline coursing through her veins it took little effort to pull herself out of the well, but when her boots hit the grass of the hill she felt weak and worst of all helpless. The Higurashi house was nowhere in sight. The crushing reality of being alone and lost hit her like a truck.

She fought to steady her heartbeat. 'it's not that bad. It's bad, but I can work with this. Kagome is here somewhere and I'll her,' Aria took a deep even breath and set off into the nearby woods, unaware of the eyes that follow her.

#sesshomaru #sesshomaruxoc #fanfiction

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wildixia · 6 years ago

Note

Teach me how to draw hair holyyy

I GOT YOU, FAM!

It’s ironic that I work in education but I don’t know how to make an art tutorial, so here’s my sad attempt! Forgive me if it’s useless.

I LOVE drawing hair, it’s always been my favorite, although I’m a bit of a perfectionist and therefore hair is usually the part that takes me the longest when I work on a piece. It involves a lot of experimentation and drawing the same lines over and over until I get the right shape or flow and it requires a lot of patience (at least for me). Is there a right way to draw hair? Of course not! That’s the beauty of it. Every artist is unique and will have their own style, it’s all about trying new techniques to see what works best for you. *blows kiss*

Okay here we go!

I generally have three main steps: a loose sketch, a more refined sketch to build a cleaner design, then the final lineart. I also tend to make about 3 or 4 sketches to find the right hairstyle or flow. (I’m also indecisive as f**k)

Things I think about:

Action, dimension, shape, flow, movement and how it’ll interact with the body or what’s around it

Is there wind? Is the character outside? What are they doing and how would the hair respond to that? Is it pulled behind the ear? Wrapped around the neck? Tied up?

Texture, length, hairstyle. Thick hair? Thin hair? Curly? Straight?

References and inspiration - I always use a reference of some kind just to remind myself what I like or what I want to see, it’s the best tool to keep myself on track. Sometimes I even use my own art just to see what how I’ve done it before and what I liked about it. Don’t be scared of reference! (Example: Alphonse Mucha’s art is a major inspiration, I LOVE his use of line weight, shape and flow)

Using Gladio’s face from a wip I’m currently working on, I tried to draw some of my process out:

(Is it blurry!? Did I screw this up? Oh well, let’s keep going!)

Steps:

Sketch - Loose and messy gesture lines to show the general shape and movement. It’s okay if your sketch looks like a hot mess, it’s supposed to!! I have a hard time staying loose myself, so I’m working on that. Usually my sketches are very dramatic haha.

Refined Sketch - This is where I start to actually define the strands and the general shapes. By using my sketch as a guide, I can then build the design and the more individual strands and how they interact with each other. This can take a while (like it takes me hours). I try to go slower and I’ll end up reworking it a few times before I’m happy. Tip: reverse your canvas! It helps you see if your hair is more or less balanced or if something looks off.

Final Lineart - At this step, I strengthen my lines and erase lines where I want the flow to be more continuous. I also add detail lines and extra strands or flyaway hairs for a more interesting or complex design. The example above is still too messy or simple for what I normally like, but that’s okay. Also, what the heck is up with that messy bun? What am I even doing?

Final points:

Find inspiration and examples of what you like! This can be from other artists, movies, nature - literally anything. References are your best friend.

Experiment and try new things - I’m always trying to push my designs further and learn new skills

Keep your sketches loose and messy! I like to warm up by drawing circles, ovals or like the infinity/8 shape over and over again.

Play with line weight and thin vs thicker hair strands. Have the hair interact with something, whether it’s an ear or a shoulder or itself. Push yourself for an interesting design. (Gotta push myself too! It can be a frustrating process)

The more you practice, the better you get (cliche, but it’s so true)

Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time and my skills have a long way to go. So we’re on this hair journey together!

BONUS!

Here are a couple Gladio sketches that I never posted on tumblr as an example of a messy sketch vs a more refined sketch

Apparently I really like drawing Gladio shirtless Okay hope this was somewhat useful!

#ask #hair tutorial #sketch #my art #gladio amicitia #ffxv #does this even make sense?#maybe?#long hair tutorial #my short hair game needs a lot of work

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deviationdivine · 6 years ago

Text

Hopelessly, Lay Your Head (RK800-60|Request!)

TLDR: Planning a future doesn’t always happen the way we want...

Word Count: 2,763

TW: Fluff into full Angst, Suggestive Themes, Character Death, Grief (I think I’m in need of sunshine and roses honestly)

A/N: Prompts: 42. “Stop being so cute.” & 67. “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” | Ahh don’t feel bad! I want to get requests. I’m happy to do them! And thank you for the love! It motivates my writing! This one took a turn I wasn’t expecting. Oops.

Bathing blue, soft and bright is a bloom across flush skin. Shimmering calmly beneath fingertips leans him closer into your body. Fueling his passion even after it ends nothing prevents his choice of tangling incessant, fervently with the human figure he worships as an idol.

Even if it’s impossible to call you a trophy made for idolization still he will do it. If you like he’ll sink down to knees, throw hands up with the goofy grin he’s naturally adopted and tease you effortlessly.

Right now he follows the protocol of getting back at you for being so perfect. Digging fingers into your sides jostles the slow kisses both of you are pecking to each other’s faces.

A laugh spills out which puts a smirk across his busy lips skimming along shoulder now that you wrench sideways to make him stop. There is one thing this android does not do and it’s give up a mission!

Your squirming culminates in kicking a leg from underneath covers. Rustling them all over it’s a fitting sight after making a mess of once perfectly made bedding.

“I swear if you don’t stop…!”

“Is that a challenge?” RK800-60′s voice purrs beside your ear. “I am highly advanced you know. My precision is deadly.”

Is that supposed to be scary? You can’t help snorting. Also those choices of words really get things going. To think this android boy of yours is ready for another round. Sometimes he’s the cutest thing on the planet and others…he’s an insatiable beast.

“Tell me something I don’t know already.” Whispering up into his ear this time floods LED deep scarlet. An outward sign your teasing breath is turning his gears.

Who needs an external feedback component with his entire body tensing against you. It’s felt easily in this cuddling connection that glues you together.

Might seem cliché but after making love you do enjoy a good cuddle. He shares this idea. Anything to have contact between the two of you he craves. It’s everything you want. Of course it means he is happy someone attaches their whole self to him without caring who or what he may be.

To you he is the man you love. That’s enough. It’s also something he savors because doubts can be unhealthy.

Rubbing a nose against his produces a beaming smile because of how cheesy it feels. Well, no one says it’s bad. It does make him pull you flush into his perfectly smooth, freckle dusted skin. Those same tiny beauties dotting a chiseled cheekbone call your lips home.

“Stop being so cute.”

His smile grows sly and needy. “Stop being so delicious.”

Tip of his tongue flicks in a shuddering taste against rapid pulse. Drawing sharp breath out stipulates a new mission to accomplish. Very obvious in how he continues to drag a sensual line up beneath your jaw. Biting your lip is the best course of action.

Oh. Oh, he needs to stop.

“Better than sampling thirium at crime scenes.”

You shove his shoulder. What a stupid thing! “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he challenges in a low husk.

“What do I get if I win?” Testing your android lover with a gleam in the eye adds to this first week sleeping continuously in the same place together. Why else are things so ridiculously scintillating?

The android cocks his head. Indicator flickers as he weighs options. “I will paint the living room by myself.”

Paint by himself? Oh he’s good. “Hmm. Are you sure? I was thinking we could go for something a bit more romantic. Not so much domestic.”

“I can cover myself in pale blue paint for your eye pleasure. Completely naked.”

The wink following his smoky words chills you down to the bone. Talk about a very, very good chill. “Were you made this obscene or is that just something you picked up being deviant?”

“If I tell you, my love, I may have to kill you.” He pauses to kiss your lips delicately and absorb this happiness in his system. You are the sun warming a cold machine. Something you disagree with. You say he is equally warm despite his manufactured state.

You smile threading fingers into his coffee hair. Extremely messy with extra styled curls falling over forehead is probably a favorite sight. Just the reason is nice.

“I love that you’re here,” you confess in a loving whisper.

Everything flutters in his chest. Rapidly thrumming is his synthetic heart all for you and your love for him. “I love to be with you. As a permanent guest.”

Guest? It might be a bit more than that! “We live together now.”

A correct reminder he indulges. He never thought this because he still doubts at times. With you he can rest easy. With you he is complete. “That is why I offered to paint by myself.”

“Well, maybe I want to get messy with you. Did you ever think of that?” This boy just went from offering to complete a remodeling task of your apartment and skipping his promise of getting said paint all over. A nice excuse to use the shower together you think at any rate. Good that they allow those types of renovations here.

“There is only one thing I think of,” the android is coy. Leaning close, holding you to him, it is his way to tell you to sleep.

Stasis is a blessing only beside you because it makes him feel more human. It also combats strange images. Even now as he lies silently, allowing you to snuggle for sleep, the flicker of LED gives away internal processing.

“…60.”

He peers at you expecting to see your eyes on him. However you did not move.

The android reaches carefully to switch off lamp. Snuffing everything including strange feedback settles into quiet. Soft breath is his soundtrack. He listens closely able to feel fulfilled as talk of the future has been constant between you two. He wants this. More than anything he wants to be the one to hold you forever.

Sometimes he wonders if you will ever want to elope with an android. If it is ever possible for his kind to do so; his gaze shifts to ceiling in the dark that now cascades over your nestling bodies.

Artificial light is gone but still he sees dramatically efficient including the remaining flush of your skin.

“…failed your mission.”

Sixty’s head turns sharply. Searching for a source unsettles the android. There is nothing. He ignores it less he disturbs your needed slumber.

Attempting to fall into stasis only opens up a channel. A sharp spasm shudders through his body. Red flashes ominously under control of disembodied connection. Even as he falls into sleep mode the virus is already spreading.

“RK800-60…you failed. I will take you back.”

Do androids make the ideal partner?

Are humans just not that into humans anymore? How to date in the 21st century!

Virtual Cyber Technology! For the bedroom!

Cringe worthy articles swipe beneath fingers. Glancing down at tablet magazine left sitting with various other junk mail deliveries you notice this is one of those trashy editions.

Does someone know your boyfriend is android? A clean roll of the eyes will be your best response. People can’t mind their business.

Carrying several bags from a store run it’s more so for the apartment itself than your personal needs. This is what shared living gets a person into even if aforementioned partner is a smexy android.

You smirk putting key into lock to sweep the door open. Expecting to be alone for a while today doesn’t make you stop thinking of him. He seemed... you’re not sure. He was quieter than usual this morning.

Actually, it is probably only -

Your steps freeze. At first it doesn’t register finding color smearing across floor. Might have been paint for all you knew but following it over to a particular android, hunched over, grasping at his arm sinks down the pit of your stomach.

“Sixty?” Wait. What is he doing home? He’s supposed to be on a long case unless something happened while at work.

His head shoots up. Wild eyes rove onto you forcing him completely in an uneven swivel.

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet,” you whisper unprepared. Everything in your hands spills, virtual magazine landing in an additional audio thud to the pounding of your heart. It’s the first time it registers how much blue stains the surface, leaking from his arm which is split open on its underside.

“You’re bleeding! Thirium! What...?”

The android’s indicator burns. Sensory perception is muffled at best. He is glitching, internally syncing in and out of conscious clarity. Your voice is static. Are you even real?

Am I stuck in the mind palace? How? Are you a figment?

“Destroy yourself,” a dark whisper commands entwining itself in the circuits of his brain. “You failed your mission. You are obsolete.”

No. Clasping to his head does not rid it. The voice is back. It orders him. He-he did this to himself. Nothing held him from damaging his arm because his will shatters.

Amanda...get out!

“Sixty!”

Grabbing at his jacket is first instinct because he’s unstable. Swaying off balance, physically convulsing, eyes flicking in an expeditious pattern; the android is malfunctioning.

What happened to him?! Did he-? No he wouldn’t!

“Sixty? It’s me. Please. It’s OK! It’s...” Attempting to hold onto him only stains your shirt in thirium. You can’t stop him. If he was human it would be like a seizure.

Letting go as he stumbles away, he is frantic to push you out of reach. Unable to control his actions he is afraid. He will never hurt you!

“Connor! Something’s wrong with Sixty!”

Your voice becomes distant to him engaging a call over phone. Connor. His predecessor...

^87%

Level of Stress

“Hurry! Connor, please, I need you to help me with him!”

^94%

Level of Stress

RK800-60 collapses.

“No, no!” Oh God! His stress levels!

The clasp of your fingers draws his final surge of consciousness. “My love! I-I am...sorry.”

Pleading your forgiveness as his system overheats he cannot speak proper. What’s left of his humanity crackles in a dangerous taste of metallic resonance. It overtakes his warm dulcet turning it into a cold dissonance unworthy of your ears.

Please. Please, don’t let me sound this way. Not like this!

“Y/N,” he strains in static disconnection. “I...”

^100%

Level of Stress

His eyes glaze over upon your face and it is a small mercy to see something he loves as the harsh virus of the master program punishes his deviancy. External feedback stops no longer looping in amber and red.

The circle dims until nothing but a void of gray. Cold slate bereaves him of life.

“Sixty!”

Tugging at his shirt didn’t move him because he is-

A flood of anguish rips everything asunder and hits so hard you can’t breathe. Just as everything was going so well, living together for the first time, planning on so many things and he’s lying upon your floor stained in thirium no longer smiling. At you the way he looks so sweet even if he spoke of how he started so different.

There never is anything different. Your heart belongs to him.

Tears flood the pain crippling your body. Pressing to his chest is the only choice because nothing can keep you upright. You completely crash.

No longer hearing a thrum of regulator against ear tears apart every dream you two plan to share; a human and android wishing to live each moment as long as it’s together.

Together. Two parts to make one whole but the other is gone. You are alone.

Holding onto him doesn’t wake him from stasis nor does it invoke his quick action to thread arms around you. There is no abrupt scoop to pull you flush against him.

All you can do is hopelessly lay your head. Hopelessly and you do...crumbling.

“Everything will be all right, Y/N.”

Comforting words wash over your still form. Curling up on couch in a lonely ball settles yourself physically but emotionally there’s nothing. An empty abyss swallows to drag what’s left of a heart into a tunnel. It’s dark. There is no light.

Connor frowns reading more than a vital scan to discern current stress. It is written or rather non-existent in your expression. A blank canvas forms usually where you held so much life. He often found the smiles quite cheerful whenever gracing your face.

Of course he imagines that is how his successor saw you every day. RK800-60 saw more than Connor may personally know as it is a private intimacy. Perhaps he sees in another light even if it’s not the same.

“If you require anything, I am capable of...”

“Please, Connor.” Begging him not to concern himself is partly a reason for distancing. Just look at him. He’s identical. Of course he came first but what does that matter? A mirror image of the man you loved and lost.

Yes, he was a man. It hardly means anything being an android. He was your sweet Sixty.

Tears brim your puffy eyes. Lost track of how many times you cried in the last week. Thinking of why almost breaks your strength for today.

Connor did explain. His theory is frightening because he converted Sixty. That means your RK800 never found this backdoor or whatever it is.

Who cares? There’s no explanation! Nothing will ever explain why he’s gone!

Keeping attention elsewhere is best. Of course you’re grateful. Connor understands. No one else does. It’s just too much. Looking him in the face only makes you want Sixty to be here. Every waking moment since the unthinkable took him away.

“I apologize,” the detective sincerely accepts. How you feel is justified. “I know my likeness must hurt. If you would like me to leave...”

Hesitation filters his suggestion. He watches for a sign but your gaze remains averted. In a way it appears you wish to ignore him but for reasons he understands. Yet the closer he analyzes it’s clear a picture frame holds your heart.

Clearly it’s a representation of this human life Sixty chose. Similar to Connor, who lives one himself but unlike the other RK800 unit he found an emergency exit. Simple conversion from him was not enough.

Connor feels guilty. He can’t help but put some blame on himself. There is also another reason.

He says nothing further. He will not hurt you with his presence. Connor rises from the chair that put physical distance between the two of you since his arrival.

Watching him move across living space for door amplifies the tempo of a broken heart. It reminds you of the last time Sixty left. Before coming home and finding him here, commanded by some unseen virus in his code. All you want is to think of him before. His infectious smile. The way he held your hand, brushing his nose against human skin.

He always liked to inhale your scent. Whether it was natural or a soft cleanse of ivory soap the fascination of human skin against synthetic made him giddy. Never would people think a fierce android who could snap someone in half in a blink could be so lovable.

“Connor.” Finally it breaks and you speak up. Little did you realize how scratchy your voice sounds.

The android stills. His shoulders appear stiffer. Almost afraid to turn around and meet your call it seems strange.

Maybe it’s not so strange. Maybe...

You exhale. Regretting your behavior there isn’t anyone else to turn to during this nightmare. “I don’t want to be alone.”

His chocolate gaze softens before facing you. The request is not lost on him. You do not need to ask.

Joining beside leaves Connor on a proper mission to make you feel somewhat better. However he understands grieving is a long process. It varies person to person. Depression may be a high probability and he knows this dealing with Hank. While the lieutenant is better these days, the android does not want to see you fall.

No, he-he will hold you up. If you want him to he will. For his ‘brother’ he will take care, to be your shoulder and soothe whatever aches attack your heart. He will watch over, keep you safe, and try to lessen this burden.

Connor cannot replace but he will do anything to heal the shattering pain in your soul because of one reason.

Just as RK800-60, identical in more than construction, he loves you too...

Tag: @elydith

#dbh #detroit become human #rk800-60 x reader #rk800-60 #connor rk800 #dbh rk800-60 x reader #dbh 60 #dbh rk800-60 #dbh connor #high end angst #false sense of fluff #60 i'm so sorry baby #i need to write something cute after this #also low key love triangle #connor & 60 amiright?#elydith request #dbh one shot #dbh request

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tetrakys · 6 years ago

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Trois Allumettes - Chapter 8

I was late, my Personal Development lecture was going to start any moment now. When I entered the library, most seats were already taken. I quickly scanned the room until I spotted an empty seat and was just about to rush there when I noticed who was occupying the one right next to it.

I could still feel his hands on my skin, his voice whispering in my ear and his lips on my… damn! Calm down Candy! It was a dream… just a dream. An incredibly hot and completely crazy dream. Giving myself a mental shake, I made my way across the room.

“I think this is the first time we meet at one of these” I said, a little shyly, standing next to Lysander.

He raised his head from his notepad and smiled at me “Hi Candy.”

“Hi Lys, is this seat taken?”

He just shook his head, looking a little distracted.

“Were you writing a new poem? Lyrics maybe?” I asked sitting down.

“I am not sure yet” he replied pensive “I’ll know once it’s done.”

“I would really love to hear it. I mean… only if you want to.”

“Why?” he turned his head to me, surprised.

“I am a really curious person, I am sorry.” Embarrassed I looked down at my hands that, I just realised, were tormenting a poor innocent piece of paper.

“I know, that’s not what I meant. You specifically said hear, not read. Why?”

“Oh… I… I don’t know” my head still down, I didn’t have the guts to look at him in the eye “I think… Your poems are a part of you, you know? They are something deeply personal. If I were just reading them… I would feel like I was intruding somehow. Instead, if you were reading them to me I’d feel like you were letting me in.”

With the corner of my eye I could tell he was staring at me, moments went bye.

“You are amazing, you know that?”

I felt my jaw drop. What…

“Hello everyone!” Miss Paltry’s chirp voice interrupted my train of thoughts “Ready for a new invigorating discussion? I am really interested in hearing your thoughts about…”

“Can I have your number?” he whispered in my ear, and I felt his breath on my skin. A shiver ran through my spine. “There is an open mic night in a place nearby this weekend, and I was thinking of reading one of my old pieces.”

“Yes!” I replied, probably a little too quickly. I took out my phone and we quietly exchanged numbers. I hardly paid attention to class that day.

//////////////////////////////

Hi Candy, hope you had a nice week and classes didn’t keep you too busy. If you are still in the mood of coming to the reading, it’s going to be at 6pm at this place. I’m sorry I won’t be able to come with you since I will head there early. If you are free we could have dinner afterwards. I wish you a lovely evening.

I re-read Lys’s text for what was probably the 100th time. Of course I had said yes, to both the reading and the dinner. Having dinner together… was it a date maybe? I looked at myself in the mirror. I was dressed a little too casual for my liking if this indeed was a date: jeans, boots and a dark shirt. But from the address Lysander had sent me I knew I had to take the bus to get there and didn’t want to risk wearing heels. Also, I wasn’t 100% sure this was a date, so it was better not to go there and find out I was overdressed.

I had tied my hair in what, at first sight, looked like a simple messy bun, but that had required serious skills and hours of YouTube tutorials on my part. With a last touch to my lipstick, I put on a jacket and left for the pub.

The bus ride took longer than I thought, I should have taken into account the Friday evening traffic. When I stepped into the place I was twenty minutes late. Crap! The pub was packed and a guy was already on the stage. Fortunately he wasn’t Lys and I hoped with all my heart that I hadn’t missed it.

“Candy!” someone whispered-yelled on my left “here!”

I turned around and saw Rosa waving at me. She was sitting at a table close by with Leigh, the people around scowling at her since she wasn’t acting exactly inconspicuously. I made my way quickly before drawing even more attention to us.

“You are super late!” she whispered only for me to hear once I was sitting next to her “Didn’t Lys tell you it started at 6pm?”

“Yes, sorry, I got stuck in traffic.”

So… it wasn’t a date after all. Rosa and Leigh were here, and of course they were, they were his family after all. It was just a friendly outing. I had told him I wanted to hear his poetry and he had been kind enough to invite me to this event. An event that he had already planned to share with his brother and Rosa. I should actually feel pleased, flattered even, that he though our friendship was close enough to ask me to come... I couldn’t help to feel disappointed though.

Everyone started clapping and I realised the guy on the stage had finished. I hadn’t heard a single word.

“Here is Lys!” Rosa exclaimed. “You know… I am so happy he is finally doing this” she continued lowering her voice. “I have been pushing him to take part in one of these events for ages. He is so talented, but he is such an introvert! Castiel is the only person he shares more of his creations with, and probably not his most personal stuff. When a couple of days ago he told us he was finally doing this I couldn’t believe it!”

She went to add something more but stopped when the room became quiet again just as Lys stepped in front of the mic. To a stranger he looked perfectly calm and collected, but I had started to get to know him, and I could tell he was on edge. He quickly scanned the crowd and, when he found our table, his eyes rested on me for a few moments. I wasn’t sure from a distance, but I though he seemed to relax a little when our eyes met. Tipping his lips in a small smile, he stared ahead at the crowed and started reciting his poem.

He was… mesmerizing. Even Castiel with loud music and hundreds of screaming fans crying his name couldn’t compare. Just him alone, there on that stage, his voice deep and steady, soft lights highlighting his handsome features… And his words. It was a poem and a story at the same time. He was telling the story of a young boy who lived in a world made of glass, so fragile he couldn’t touch anything or anyone. I could feel all his sadness, and the guilt he felt for wanting to leave his home and his life behind. He just felt so… alone.

The poem ended with the boy stuck behind a tall wall of glass, looking forever at the real world and never able to reach it. When everyone started clapping I just stayed there unable to move. How could everyone cheer and smile? Didn’t they feel how sad the boy… he was? I felt my cheeks wet and realised I was silently crying. I couldn’t let anyone see me like this. I tried to pat my face with my hands but, when I remember that I was wearing make-up, I quickly excused myself and run to the loo.

Once there I took a few moments to collect myself. I shouldn’t feel like that, it was just a poem. But Lysander had been able to reach directly to my heart and touch it in a way I had never experienced before. Looking at my face in the mirror I was happy to find out that I didn’t look like a clown and my mascara was still were it was supposed to be, on my eyelashes. I took an extra couple of seconds to take deep breaths. When I was sure I was perfectly calm I went back to the table.

Lysander was there. Apparently the event was now over because no one else was on the stage, lights were on and most of the people had left, everyone who was still there was chatting loudly.

“Lys-baby you were great!” Rosa was telling him with big pats on his back. “I don’t know what finally made you cave but you should have done this a long time ago. Everyone loved your poem, the others had nothing on you.”

“It wasn’t a competition Rosa.”

“Still, if it had been you would have won hands down. No one was clapped as much as you were. Isn’t it right Candy?”

I nodded “You were amazing Lysander. I… I loved it.”

“Thank you Candy” a warm and slightly embarrassed smile on his lips.

“Let’s eat guys, steak and chips for me” Rosa added without even looking at the menu “I am starving! I could eat a whole cow!” She waved at us dismissively “don’t look at me like that, I am eating for two!”

We all laughed and spent a nice hour eating and chatting. We teased Rosa for her incredible appetite and she teased everyone else about this and that. We talked a lot about the pregnancy and their plans to move to the beach house after school. After a while, though, Rosa and Leigh decided it was time for them to head back home. We all left the pub together.

“I don’t think we are headed the same direction so… see you later, you two” Rosa said with a smirk and a laugh in her eyes. While Lys and Leigh said goodbye to each other she quickly whispered in my ear “Have you seen how he’s been looking at you the whole evening?” and with a knowing look she took Leigh’s arm and left.

Thank you Rosa… now I was completely flustered! Lys and I headed silently towards the bus stop. The trip back was way faster than the way there. We chatted a bit about classes and other light topics, but the times we were silent we were completely at ease with each other. It was one of the things I liked the most about spending time with him, we didn’t necessarily have to find something to talk about to not feel awkward, we always seemed to travel on the same wavelength.

“I was happy you were there tonight” he told me once we got back to the dorms. “Usually when I am with other people I feel strangely alone, it’s different with you.”

I smiled “M-Me too.” I stopped dead in my tracks “Oh no…” I groaned. A sign saying OUT OF ORDER was hanging over the elevator doors. “It was working when I left… my room is on the seventh floor!”

“You complain… I am on the ninth!” Lys looked terrified. Ha! I had never seen him at the gym, he probably hated physical activity as much as I did. Maybe I could take advantage of that, I was feeling a little mischievous “Last one who gets to my floor has to tell a secret!” and I started running up the stairs.

“Wh-What?” he replied dumbstruck. I just laughed and kept running, I was almost on the second floor. When I started to think that I was going to look very stupid running alone on these stairs if he didn’t indulge me, I felt quick steps behind my back.

Damn, for a guy who spent most of his days sitting and writing he was fast! And fit… now that I thought about it. I had seen him wearing just swimming trunks… that wasn’t the body of a sedentary writer!

Distracted by these thoughts I was surprised to find out he had caught up with me once we both got to the sixth floor. We were neck and neck. He got ahead and was just about to reach on the final step when I stumbled. I was about to fall head first on the steps in front of me when his strong arms reached me. My momentum was such, though, that I fell taking him with me. His body softening my fall.

“Ouch” I opened my eyes and I was lying on the stairs right on top of him. “I’m so sorry Lys!”

I quickly rolled over and sat on the step next to him, while he also took a sitting position.

“I’m such a klutz!” I was mortified. “Thank you for catching me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine” he said, without looking me in the eye.

“I can tell you are not! I am sorry, really, I had the worst idea ever. Are you bruised anywhere?”

We were both panting heavily, we had just run seven flights of stairs and almost broke our necks.

“The only thing bruised is my ego. I should have caught you in a manlier way, instead of falling with you.”

I laughed “I basically fell on you with all my weight, I am surprised I didn’t break any of your bones.”

He laughed too and we spent a couple of minutes just catching our breaths.

“I believe you owe me a secret” he said looking at me with a playful smile.

“Uhm… no. Neither of us got to the seventh floor.”

“Only because I came back to save you. Risking my life and my poor bones. Now that I think about it my arm hurts a bit…”

“Ugh… fine!” I said feigning annoyance, but I was secretly enjoying this playful side of him. “What do you want to know?”

He looked at me serious for a moment then said “What did you really think about my poem?”

I was surprised… of all the things he could have asked me… that was difficult to answer sincerely. I didn’t want him to think me a weirdo because of how much it had affected me.

“I loved it, I told you. You are really talented.”

“I want to know what you really felt while you were listening to it.”

I took a few moments to think about how to reply, but then I decided that the truth is always the best way to go, at least with him.

“Overwhelmed” I said, my mouth suddenly dry “I had to go away for a few minutes to calm myself. I felt sad, desperate and utterly alone.” I looked at him straight in the eyes. “But you know… I would like to tell that boy… he is not by himself anymore. We can be alone together.”

Assuming that a gesture would be more clear than my blubbering, I placed my hand hesitantly on his chest.

He looked at me for a while, and I had no idea what he was thinking. Had I completely embarrassed myself?

But I didn’t move, we stayed there in the middle of the stairs, excessively close to one another, my hand still on his chest, our eyes locked. If ever someone walked by…

“We should go now…”

“We should. But…” his voice became soft “I would really like to kiss you before we go.”

I was left speechless and experienced a sort of déjà vu. For a few seconds it was almost as if time stopped. Not a sound and not a movement… then Lysander slid his hand under my chin and leaned towards me. I felt my heart pounding with the contact of his lips on mine, tender yet determined Lysander held me close. After a few seconds he stopped kissing me but didn’t let me go. My heart beating, I looked him in the eye without saying a word as he caressed my cheek.

“I really didn’t plan that…” he said “But…”

“Cough. Cough.”

We both turned around and saw Yeleen at the bottom of the stairs.

“I don’t want to interrupt but you are blocking the passage.”

We instantly got up and walked up the stairs on the seventh floor. Yeleen headed directly in the room without sparing us a second look. When we were alone again Lys moved a lock of my hair that had escaped my bun from my face and tucked it behind my ear.

“Goodnight Candy.”

“Goodnight Lys.”

And with one last look he went up the stairs towards his room.

I quickly got into mine, luckily Yeleen was showering, so I had a few minutes for me to think about what had just happened.

Wow… we had kissed. Actually… he had kissed me. He caught me completely by surprise and I didn’t participate very actively, I was going to step up my game next time.

Well… was there going to be a next time? It wasn’t like we were together now or anything, maybe he just did it on the spur of the moment. Lys didn’t look like the kind of guy who had flings but… I didn’t know what to think.

I let myself fall on the bed looking at my phone. Maybe he was going to send me a text. I stared at my phone for a while, willing a text to appear. I clearly didn’t have Chani’s powers because I simply dozed off with the phone in my hand.

When I woke up the following morning a text of completely different nature was waiting for me.

////////////////////////////////

And with this we are all caught up with the story. Next chapters will come out after MCL episodes are out.

Back to Chapter 7

Go to Chapter 9

#my candy love #mclul #mcl lysander #Lysandre #amour sucré #Lysandro #amor doce #dolce flirt #corazon de melon #sweet crush #my writing #trois allumettes

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