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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached - Bonus

Words Read After the Lights-Out

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5500

Summary: Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Time apart is usually unpleasant and this time wasn’t as exception. With messed-up sleep schedule, Steve helps himself with one of your writing he knows you finished. Will it help him fall asleep?

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, semi-public masturbation, oral (fem receiving), PIV, hints of dom/sub, and fluff… and language (always)

A/N: @donutloverxo is ‘bad’ influence on me. Hopefully it will make up for me still not participating in the wonderful weekly challenge.

So here. Have a tiny bit more of smut and then I’m done with it. I am not a smut writer, no, no, no, no… but yeah, I had plenty of fun with this. It’s smut in a fluffy wrapping, because of course it is. I’m me. So, enjoy?

(Also, I copied the start of reader’s fic from the epilogue, so just you’re not surprised)

Story masterlist

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Steve knew he had permission – a half-heartedly mumbled one, somewhere between consciousness and drifting to sleep, but still a permission –, yet he felt a bit dirty.

He had printed the pages few days ago before he left, knowing you finished the story for now named ‘the second encounter with Professor R’, morbidly curious, but hesitant to dive in. These were still your writings, your imaginations and they might have concerned him, but they were still very intimate. And he wasn’t just thinking sexual intimacy – it was simply something coming from the very depth of your mind and Steve honest to god didn’t want to invade your privacy.

However, he had asked if you’d mind if he read what you had written, and you said no. He had asked if he could read it then – and you said yeah.

Here. Permission. Clear as day. And you had left your laptop open, still logged in, as if in invitation. So he had downloaded it and printed it out.

And now he was watching you lying on your stomach, hugging the pillow that was very much on his side of the bed as if you wished you were cuddling him instead and Steve didn’t crave anything but sliding beside you and pulling you to his side.

The problem was that he had been to a conference on the other side of the country and he nodded off on the plane and not even the long shower made him relax properly. And the last thing he wanted was to wake you up, because the last time you Facetimed, you looked like you could sleep for a year.

Steve knew that the fact he had left you alone for the first time since the rumours started that you two were together and it was no surprise that facing the vultures without the possibility to find solace in each other’s arms was taking its toll on you – he wouldn’t like it either. You wouldn’t admit it to him; you kept the distress about it to yourself, not wanting to burden him. The bed was lonely without him, you had said instead, a claim no doubt true as well – and boy, could Steve relate to that.

So now he fished out the few pages and settled at the desk, only the dim light revealing your words to him, as if they were something that indeed should remain a secret.

Steve spent one more glance at your sleeping form, serene, your lips parted as you softly breathed into the pillow, eyes closed, eyelashes casting weak shadows over your cheeks with the little lamp on and Steve couldn’t stop the corners of his lips rising. You were beautiful and his, lying in his bed, practically begging for him to come and take you to his arms.

Steve promised himself that once he would finish reading, hopefully tire his eyes for a bit, he would do exactly that – falling into a blissful sleep with you in his embrace.

He should have known better, really. He should have known that your story would do everything but lull him to sleep.

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Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.

You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him not alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.

Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—dammit.

Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.

His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-

“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-doodling, that would be splendid.”

The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.

“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”

You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.

“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true any time soon. You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”

A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.

Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.

If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?

Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.

“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back, and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.

“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.

His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.

“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”

Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even focus-

“You certainly have to write this down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”

“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”

You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for days ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-

“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.”

As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create some friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.

His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.

“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”

You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.

No way, no fucking w-

“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.

“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”

He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.

Be a good girl, he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.

“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”

You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.

Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.

“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”

The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.

You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt. You bit on your lip to stop yourself from releasing the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.

His stupid talk, momentarily empty promises, his voice on your ear, his lips brushing your skin, the light pressure on your clit, the finger moving slowly inside you— it all felt amazing, way too good considering that you knew you weren’t alone, but by God, did it add a tiny bit of a thrill, causing your heart to flutter, your core to burn.

You could still hear Professor Rogers talking, not one of his words registering until his fingertip grazed your collarbone, a breath of ‘such a good girl’ caressing your ear. You gulped, feeling your pussy clench, a shudder running down your spine.

“Go on, make yourself feel good. Add another.”

You had no idea how he knew what you were doing under the fabric, but he retreated again, to talk armies and bloodshed and all you could think off was being the good girl he had proclaimed you, worrying your teeth over your lips strongly enough to draw blood almost, third finger slipping into your heat. Your eyes fluttered open at the sensation, gaze stubbornly fixing on Professor Rogers’ chair, your breathing shallow and quick as you felt the pressure building.

Your mind was turning hazy as you tried to comprehend whether you liked the presence of the unsuspecting professor or were ashamed doing this while he was right there. You massaged your inner walls slowly, carefully despite how much you needed the release at this point, barely moving in or out in the fright of making noise. Your head spun, your thighs trembling softly with your climax nearing, the pleasure on horizon setting your blood on fire.

And then there was a pinch to your shoulder, nearly making you yelp in surprise—but somehow, even in the fog your brain was in, you understood that it was an order to stop and your hand instantly disappeared, curling into a fist on your thigh.

You tried your best to stop the shaking, to ignore the slickness on your fingers, now hopefully hidden in your palm and not on display – and peripherally, you could see Professor Banks rise to his feet, picking up items from his desk.

Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, air caught in your lungs as you attempted to calm yourself just in case he would look at you. As if your sex wasn’t practically pulsing because of the abrupt neglect, so so close to the release you craved.

In a sudden clarity of mind, you swiftly took fresh paper and set in on top of your ‘notes’ and gripped the pen again, seemingly ready to continue writing down important dates and names. You heard Banks steps nearing and you instinctively looked up. You had no idea what face you made, because you had zero control over your mimic muscles, too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.

Whatever he read from your expression, it made him eye his colleague.

“Don’t keep her for much longer, Steven. I’m sure she deserves some fun today too,” the older professor remarked, shooting you an uncharacteristic smile and walked out of the office, his old-fashioned leather case swinging. Professor Rogers’ ‘Don’t worry, Bradley,’ followed him and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, allowing you to release an exhale.

“He has no fucking idea,” you muttered, tossing the damn pen aside, running a hand down your face, while your other one remained curled up in a tight fist.

“Shut you dirty mouth, babygirl,” Professor Rogers hissed, crossing the distance to the door in few long strides, glancing at Banks’ desk to make sure that the man hadn’t forgotten anything he could come back for, and only then locked.

The next thing you knew, you were on your feet, the edge of the hardwood desk digging into your ass, your wrists pinned by his hands.

Your breath was stolen by his mouth, lips taking yours, warm, sweet, soft and demanding, a hungry kiss that had no end, one of your wrists suddenly free as his fingers curled around your nape, tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling, just to get more of you. You submitted easily, gratefully even, blissed out at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth, taking everything he wanted.

You gasped for air when he withdrew, his forehead resting against yours for a split moment, his touch on you almost tender now, more so when he brought your wrist to his mouth and left a brief kiss on your knuckles, inhaling deeply, causing your face heat up.

“So obedient, such good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice, thick with arousal, and you could swear you were about to burst. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You were caught between embarrassed and aroused when he pried your fingers open, his tongue tasting your drying juices. Your core clenched in need and as if he could feel it, his hips rutted into yours, his own excitement evident as his cock poked your lower stomach, his mouth once again on yours, your hand trapped between your bodies, his fingers gripping your sides tightly.

“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he mumbled to your mouth.

Recalling just what a vow he had made you with the other man still present, you gladly let him spin you around, manoeuvre you to press your front to his desk with no regard for the notes scattered over it. You instantly missed the warmth of his body, but his hands went to knead the flash of your ass, one sliding to your lower back, the other hiking up your dress.

A groan escaped him at the sight of you bared for him, his foot nudging yours apart, his grip on you tightening, fingers digging into your flesh enough to bruise before they slid lower, dipping into your slickness. His fingertips spread it, circling your clit, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the shot of bliss sent through your veins. A pathetic mewl fell from your lips and you could only imagine the indulgent smile on his face.

“God, look at you, so pretty, so ready for me,” he praised, fingers tracing the lace of your thigh-highs. “I really like these. Good choice…. Hold on tight, babygirl.”

You wasted no time and listened to him, grabbing the edge of the desk as his touch disappeared. You closed your eyes, anticipation building when you heard the tell-tale of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again and as wrong or right as it was, you couldn’t help yourself, missing him. You knew things weren’t as simple as they could be seen – you noticed the little things, unnecessary tenderness peeking through, showing you that you were more than just a mindless fuck.

His warm palms spread your cheeks almost lovingly, slightly guiding you up so you stood on your tiptoes, bracing on the hardwood desk, so close to beg for him to finally fill you up, so con-

“Oh my-“ you cried out, your thighs clenching when instead of his hard cock nudging your slit, a velvety-soft warmth licked at your opening, eager and hungry, wasting no time and opening you further, the tip of his tongue pushing in, his lips sucking every drop you offered. Blood rushed to your head and to your centre, fingertips tingling, your most sensitive parts feeling like on fire. His beard was a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue, rough sensation making you dizzy. “Prof-“

His fingers applied pressure on your clit again, the circling motions making your head spin, your thighs shake again with the intensity of the approaching orgasm as professor Rogers fucked you with his tongue relentlessly, reaching even deeper, flicking his tongue and driving you absolutely crazy with pleasure.

A cry ripped from your throat as your climax shook your whole world, knees giving out, your fingers weakly clutching at the edge of the desk, your body slack against the wood. And he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out with vigour, humming against your cunt, sending aftershocks through your veins. Only when he stopped, you felt you could finally breathe— his mouth moved just a fraction, a sting on your inner thigh as he sucked a mark of possession, one he kissed afterwards; even in your haze, a soft warmth enveloped your heart. Not a mindless fuck.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself…” he muttered to your skin, stroking, squeezing, kissing, moving up and whispering to your hair. Did he just apologize…? “You’re even sweeter than I hoped.”

Your heart fluttered, your hand blindly finding his as it still clutched on your waist. He didn’t retreat, gently squeezing back, knocking the breath out of you when he simultaneously entered you, his whole length in one swift motion, sinking so easily into your weeping cunt.

Professor Rogers moaned as you gasped, your core instinctively clenching around him.

“So tight… so good-“

His hands moved to your hips, his cock driving in and out, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, his thick member stretching you pleasantly after such delicious preparation.

“Professor Rogers,” you gasped when he hit the right spot, his grip tightening.

“That it, babygirl?” he teased, purposely changing the angle, barely brushing your g-spot with his next thrust. You couldn’t help the mewl of frustration, attempting to shift and help yourself, only to meet with the steely hold he had on you. “Ah-ah, none of that, babygirl… you want more? Want me to make good on my promise?”

You really wanted to sneer at him, to snap, but—God, he moved so right the next moment, giving you another taste of the delicious sensation and you nodded fiercely, only for him to still in his movements, thumbs drawing a circle on your skin.

“Yes,” you voiced your request then, earning a satisfied hum and a tap of his fingers. Words are good, now do better, you almost heard him say and you clenched your jaw in frustration. For God’s sake- “Yes, please.”

“Please what?” he urged you as he rolled his hips lazily, dragging his cock alongside your walls so painfully slow.

You sighed, rocking yours hips just a bit – vainly, again.

“Please, fuck me against the desk… Professor Rogers.”

It worked like a charm, a kiss landing between your clothed shoulder blades.

“Good girl,” he hummed, the praise giving you as much joy as it did to him, apparently. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, I’m not holding back on you. I waited long enough…”

And that he did; the lecture had been a torture until it changed into a different kind of-

The half-unpleasant memory vanished from your mind, quickly replaced by the sensation of his length filling you up again, and again, again, speeding up, angling his hips so he finally hit the spot you craved to have stimulated, driving in and out with force that made you see stars, sharp gasps escaping your lips with each thrust.

You clutched at the table, unable to hold still, trying to meet him halfway, adding to the pleasure that had tears gathering behind your closed eyelids.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ he groaned and freed one of his hands in favour to take you with him, playing with your clit and making you moan his name as the coil in your abdomen snapped again, causing you clench around him. It tipped him over the edge and you felt him spill into you, some of his seed tickling your opening as he rode his climax out.

You were both breathing heavily as his body laid over yours, the sweat gathering on your forehead and back be damned. You melted into the comfort his weight offered, pleasantly surprised when one of his hands found yours, still on the edge of the desk, fingers interlacing, a wet sloppy kiss landing on the side of your neck.

You could feel him soften inside you, a new sensation that felt strangely intimate, and yet he stayed a little longer.

“Stay right here, babygirl,” he rasped out, the warmth of him disappearing as he stood up fully and pulled out.

You obeyed despite not being sure what was about to happen… your first thought was a photo and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

However, your first thought was wrong.

You heard rustle as he pulled out a wet-wipe, a sharp exhale following – warming it up, you realized later – and then he carefully cleaned you up, soft and wary of how sensitive you were, his mission ending with a brief kiss on the spot where the bitemark was probably already blooming.

“You can get up,” he encouraged you, standing by your side, hands hovering as if ready to catch you.

Now your head spun for a whole different reason. What the hell was happening? What was he doing? What did this mean? You weren’t about to complain in the slightest, but… what.

Professor Rogers was observing you wordlessly, intense gaze you couldn’t hope to understand and you couldn’t help the shame warming up your cheeks, knowing that even with waterproof mascara and quality lipstick, you were far from looking perfect – and still, he appeared to be feasting his eyes on you.

Before you could try and fix it, he caught your hand halfway to your face, planting a kiss on your wrist and reaching for another tissue, taking care of it himself.

You were rendered speechless, eyes wide, lips parted as his own spread in a gentle smile, gaze almost fond as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Pretty girl,” was all he said, a kiss landing on your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked several times, unable to comprehend.

You were too stunned to say a single word, frozen on spot and yet you could feel your bones melting under his gaze, still unwavering, focused, boring into yours.

Neither of you made an attempt to move – neither of your reached for your handbag so you could be on your way. You just stood there in silence, lost in how incredibly handsome, beautiful he was up-close, finally having time to fully appreciate it – and with the softness of his features, you felt yourself fall for him, caught in the safety net of his kind eyes.

Your mouth opened uselessly and the pad of thumb moved to run over your lips, ending up in the corner of your mouth, raising it in a lopsided smile.

“You called me my first name,” he whispered, effectively bursting your blissful bubble and invading it with horror.

Oh god, you had? When—oh. Oh. Now you recalled it, a tiny bit horrified that you actually called him ‘Steve’ when reaching your peak.

“I’m sor-“

He shook his head and before you could finish, he pulled you in for another kiss, slow, deep and meaningful, his arm curling around your waist as if he couldn’t get you close enough and once again, you weren’t about to complain, placing one palm on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck instead.

“I liked it,” he breathed to your mouth, pecking your lips once more before releasing you. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Clark.”

You nodded automatically, still stunned by the whole turn of events and accepted the handbag he gently handed you.

“…thanks,” you muttered and let him lead you out of the office.

When he unlocked the door, you readjusted your dress, making sure that in any normal circumstances people could see the lack of your underwear; what a reminder of Professor Rogers – Steve – being no less kinky than the first time, no matter how his demeanour now. You glanced at his face again and lost all remnants of sanity.

You placed your hand on his broad impressive bicep and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, enjoying the tickle of his beard once more.

“I’ll see you,” you echoed his words, meeting his twinkling eyes before walking out of the door.

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Steve had to blink several times as he finished reading, trying to get a grasp on reality again, the words and images still swimming in front of his eyes. He needed few moments to process what he just read for more than one reason; he certainly didn’t feel sleepy as he had naively hoped.

He found the story hot, yeah, he wasn’t kidding himself, he was rock hard and aching, but what took him aback greatly and rendered him speechless was the sentiment. The shift in the relationship, the parts of Steve you got to know that you had implemented into the story with ease, the story in which ‘Miss Clark’ was surprised by the professor’s affection.

Steve read in the words the same astonishment and tender awe he saw in your eyes when you first exchanged ‘I love you’, after he had read the very start of this story for the first time and told you that he loved your mind as well.

Even when he glanced at your form now, so tempting in his bed, practically begging for him to satiate the hunger that your words spurred, it was impossible to ignore the warmth in his chest, his heart suddenly feeling too big for his ribcage.

Delicately placing the pages down, he turned off the lamp and carefully made his way to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion drawing an adorable but barely audible whimper from you. Steve smiled for himself and slid beside you, curling his arms around your form and pulling you to his chest as much as he could without poking you with his hard-on, having decided to ignore it until it went away. He just-- honestly, he wouldn’t say no, but just holding you would suffice tonight.

You melted into his body so trustingly and naturally it made his heart ache and sing at the same time—God, he loved you. Then, as your mind registered that he was technically not supposed to be there, your form stiffened before pressing into him further, curling in his embrace, allowing him to nuzzle his nose in your hair.

“Hi,” you greeted him sleepily, but no less sweetly.

Steve dropped a kiss to the back of your head, his smile widening. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m glad to be home and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mm-mm, thanks for the report.”

You turned your head to catch his lips in a welcome kiss, one Steve wouldn’t refuse in a million years; sleepy, a bit sloppy, but one that tasted like home. Yours. And with both of you smiling into it.

“Welcome back. I missed you.”

He brushed the strand of your hair from your face, kissing you once more at your admission.

“Missed you more.”

Your grin only widened when you rolled over to him fully, tangling your limbs with his and accidently – possibly on purpose – brushing his erection with your thigh. He hissed despite himself and he would swear he could see a glint of mischief in your eyes despite the lack of light in the room.

“Oh, I see how it is, you missed me,” you giggled adorably and Steve couldn’t bring himself to be exasperated at you breaking the magic of the moment. And he certainly didn’t feel like telling you what exactly got him into this state – at least not now.

“Not just like that,” he grumbled and you giggled once more, finding his lips with yours, your hand surprisingly moving to rest on his chest, right over his heart, rather than heading down his torso.

“I’m hopeful,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes and even in the dark, Steve felt his heart stutter. God, you were beautiful. Breath-taking. His. “But we should take care of this.”

Your hand slid considerably lower, giving some attention to his aching hard-on, softly curling your fingers around it and stroking and his resolve was slowly – very quickly – turning non-existent.

“I didn’t want to wake you at all. You need to sleep-“ he tried out weakly and you eyed him again, kissing his sternum, still smiling.

“Don’t feel sleepy. And I missed you too. In all the ways possible. I want to feel you, Steve.”

And fuck, he was lost. To your hands, to your lips, to your voice – when did it grow so sultry? –, to the smell of your shampoo and bodywash and your skin and to your damn face he couldn’t even see properly.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a spur of the moment, catching your hand to still your delicate strokes before they clouded his mind completely.

You blinked in an understandable surprise; but he had an important thing to say, simultaneously making a mental note to emphasize it again when telling you he read the second story too.

“Wha-“

“I truly missed you, sweetheart. I love you.”

Your surprise melted into something much softer and Steve couldn’t but meet your lips again, catching a glimpse of that same awe he marvelled at when reading. Your fingers in his hair were an epitome of bliss as you kissed him back with care.

“I love you too, Steve. So much…” you vowed and then there were no more words needed.

Steve devoured your lips, your body, revelling in every soft sigh of his name. And soon worn out after you both tipped over the edge, you fell asleep, tucked under the covers in his arms, the pair of you finally sleeping soundly again after being apart.

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‘One-shot’ Hurtful Words part 1

S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

I felt like I owe it to you, to them and to myself after the story she was writing didn’t get to be read (Steve caught her writing it). I hope you enjoyed :)

I’m thinking one more one-shot, maybe, will see how it goes, I’ll be pretty busy from the next week, so...

294 notes · View notes

ezzydean · 3 years

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Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

(click here to read them all on my tumblr and not the dash)

1. It takes approximately forty-two minutes before Stiles can convince himself to get up off the loveseat where he’s happily squished between Danny and Isaac. (love aka part 3 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn I wrote because of Catt)

2. “So. What the djinn did to Dean in, what was it, season one? Two? Whatever. Yeah totally legit. Negative fifty out of ten. Would not recommend.” (promise aka part 2 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn)

3. Hajime freezes when he hears the distinct sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat behind him. (the 5+1 mistletoe kisses prompt)

4. Stiles’s phone lights up and he gives it a wary look when he sees the text notification on his screen. He’s already been warned, by a few different people, that he would probably be getting a summons soon. (trust aka part 1 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn)

5. “There comes a day in every man’s li—”

The officiant is cut off by a loud cough and he takes a bracing breath, eyes fluttering. (the magic in you aka KageUshiIwa magical fluff)

6. The sky is turning gray, clouds rolling in to cover up the sunset, when Kuroo finally turns to Shouyou and sighs.

“Call him.”

Shouyou snickers at the defeated tone of Kuroo’s voice but he pulls out his phone. (we’re in a parking lot somewhere aka KuroHinaDai something or other I’m writing)

7. It still hurts sometimes. Not his wound. It’s scarred up rather nicely. As nice as a giant scar across half your face can be anyway. (a yet to be titled/plotted ATLA Zuko & Toph thing)

8. It starts early one morning — mere minutes after the door has unlocked and the sign has scrawled itself into a brilliantly colorful OPEN complete with sparkles and tiny fireworks — not long after everything has started to quiet down. (Well it had technically started years and years ago when they were all childish and stupid right little shits to each other but that’s a different story for a different day.) (only time will tell aka my Draco/George & Theo/Fred fic)

9. Neville snaps his head up, instantly wary of Hermione and that tone of voice, and then flushes when he realizes what he’s done. It’s Hermione after all. She’s entirely too clever for her own good but she’s not some sneaky devious creature he has to watch his back around. Though sometimes when she smiles the way she’s smiling now he remembers that, actually, yes she is a sneaky devious creature. She just likes him enough that, for the most part, he doesn’t have to worry about watching his back around her. (an untitled HP everyone comes back as professors fic)

10. Some things in life are certain. They’re just going to happen no matter what, no matter how much you might try to prevent them. So the smart thing to do would be to just go with the flow, right? Just let the things happen and try not to stress over it. Morisuke likes to think of himself as a fairly smart person. So he’ll just take a few deep breaths and let it go, right?

Wrong. (untitled TsukkiYaku fake dating fic)

11. Issei stumbles out of his bedroom and shuffles down the hall doing a really great impression of a zombie if you ask him. He’s got the groans and the unsteady steps and the unfocused eyes and the inability to use higher brain functions like speech and decision making. (my last first everything aka HanaMatsu slow burn mutual pining childhood friends to lovers)

12. The cauldron in the fireplace rattles and Daichi gives it an unimpressed stare. (cauldron bubble aka BokuDai magic accidental baby acquisition)

13. Tobio’s eyes cross as he tries to focus on the object dangling in front of his face. He leans away from it and presses the back of his head against a warm stomach.

“Hello Iwaizumi,” he says. (a place in the sun aka IwaKage fluff)

14. The cupboard under the stairs isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to be. But if you are five and want to hear what the adults are talking about so seriously in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place then, sadly, the cupboard it is. (matchsticks and dragon scales, year 1 aka my Harry Potter rewrite)

15. Hajime takes a sip of his coffee and sighs, ignoring the world around him for just a few minutes while he sits and at his table at Generic Coffee Shop and gets his morning dose of caffeine. (roots and sky aka the IwaOi part of my childhood friends to lovers series, the dichotomy of you and me)

16. It’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday and all Tadashi wants to do is go home and sleep. Maybe for a week. Maybe for a month. He’s not too entirely picky to be honest. (stars and sea aka the YamaTsukki part of the dichotomy of you and me)

17. So. Library.

Not exactly where he’d thought he’d be working when he was back in high school. But it’s, objectively speaking, not the worst place he could be working. Like sure it’s not quite as interesting as working at the aquarium like Watari. But it’s also not as taboo sounding as working at a funeral place like Matsukawa.

So. You know. It’s not that bad. (past and future aka the KinKuni part of the dichotomy of you and me)

18. Tetsurou glances at the screen one last time before posting and immediately closing out of his browser and signing out of his email. He shuts down his computer a moment later and stands with a quiet groan. It’s been a shit day. It’s not the worst Thursday of his life or anything like that. Just. A shit day. All he wants to do is clock out and go the fucky doodle home. Which is why he hurries past his boss’s office with his head down — he has the worst problem saying no when his boss asks him for things which is how he found himself with Social Media Coordinator tacked onto his business card a few months ago — and when he hear his boss’s door start to open he hurries a little faster and opts for taking the stairs down instead of waiting for the elevator. (body and soul aka the KuroKen part of the dichotomy of you and me)

19. Kei stretches idly as he waits for practice to start. They’re already a few weeks into this year’s season but today they’re apparently waiting for their new team trainer. Or assistant coach. Or something. He wasn’t entirely listening to the announcement from the captain yesterday. (we’ll meet at the horizon aka my epic HinaTsukki slow burn)

20. He knows the moment the words leave his lips that he’s gone too far, that he’s made one too many jokes, said a few too many things he shouldn’t have. He always screws up, is always too much for people to handle. ((don’t) write me an elegy of your past, love aka that AkaKuro & BokuDai fantasy au)

I have no idea if I have any patterns other than I go for humor, a lot. And I can’t pick a favorite cause I love them all for different reasons.

#ezzy writes #ask meme #(sorta)

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pillowfluffs · 6 years

Text

Soulmate!Wonho // Chapter 1

Pairing: Wonho X Reader (female)

Genre: Soulmate!AU, fantasy, fluff, slight angst

Summary: You’re a first year at Mapnerry Academy of the Arcane, in a world where everyone has a soulmate. If you draw on your skin, it show’s up on your soulmate’s skin and vice versa, how magical.. You’ve learned many things growing up, but it seems you’ll learn something pivotal to your life one day while being at home..

Author’s Note: This honestly was supposed to be a short story for my english class but I just couldn’t help myself and I decided to polish things up on my own accord. This is my first official series! I know there’s pigtails!Hyunwoo but I didn’t finish and that was an unintentional “series” I will be posting a new chapter on Saturdays 5:30pm Eastern Standard Time (U.S. Time) ((4:00pm Central Time // 2:00pm Pacific Standard Time)) Please Enjoy part 1!

The small lines appeared on your skin as you sat in the library, studying for a somewhat challenging class you took. Everyone, well about ninety five percent of everyone born is destined to be with a soulmate that fits them perfectly spiritually, personally, physically, every way perfect. Those paired had their skin connected so if you drew on your skin, the drawing would show up on your soulmate’s in the exact same place as you drew it. Luckily for you, you were shown at an early age that you indeed had a soulmate; your soulmate had been drawing on their skin since the moment they could pick up a pen. When the drawings first appeared on your skin, you drew in response, making your presence known because there were also others, the five percent who were born and unfortunately paired with no one. Their fates were destined to be alone, so their abilities as mages were not as full as paired ones. No matter how long it would take to meet your soulmate, everything was destined since birth and even before. The only thing to be let done was time.

You sat comfortably in your seat for who knows what time it was now as your ancient runes textbooks and notebooks sat open in front of you. You needed to focus but the whimsical lines which kept appearing, fascinated you. You’ve been here since the doors opened for the day, first no one but you, but now a good amount of people since it was around the middle of your first year. Since the the library was filled row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outwards and considering how spacious it was, you barely heard any noise, if there even were any being made. The books ranged from centuries old to months old; some more worn out than others. The large windows filled the grand room with a cool light. Archive mages flowed through the aisles, making sure no one was squandering their powers and were returning books to their rightful places. Archive magic allowed the user to convert information to magical data, which can be stored, enabling the mage to gain access to previously stored information, such as magic or in this case, books.

It was your first year at Mapnerry Academy of the Arcane, a school created by the government to enhance the skills of young and promising mages such as yourself and ranked one of the highest and most challenging school to be accepted. It was always your parents’ dream for you to attend this school the moment you were born, so, when you received an envelope saying that you got a full scholarship, they were ecstatic. You applied like millions of others, hoping but also accepting the fact if you didn’t make it, it would be fine. You wished, however, to not go to school; all you simply wanted to do was travel the world, meet your soulmate, do whatever you wished without following any of your parents’ or anyone’s orders on how to use your gift. The way the school’s acceptance worked was based on your level of skill and power. To be honest, you didn’t think your power was all that strong or powerful; it was simply imitationis. You had the ability to mimic the power of anyone else, no matter who they were and how powerful they were. Mages born from paired ones usually have their abilities stemmed from their parents’ abilities. You guessed the only related aspect of your ability to your parents’ were your father’s ability to absorb and redistribute energy and your gift to copy others’ power.

“Holding this power means holding great responsibility,” your parents had always told you, but you saw no problems with your power, as long as you didn’t misuse the powers of the ones you absorbed so far, no harm done. Growing up, your parents weren’t as fortunate as you to be gifted with such a singular and robust power. Your mother was gifted with the power of sanitatem, meaning she could heal others, herself, anyone and anything at any rate she wished, which especially came in handy when it came to health insurance. As for your father, he was given the capability of effusio, the power to absorb any force, elemental or energy, and use it in various ways by changing it throughout their body, and if they were against an enemy, they could use the absorbed energy as an advantage. Your father was often out on missions, which were the only way for mages to make a living; taking on missions put out by less powerful mages. Of course with your father’s power, your mother was his partner in business and life so she tagged along. To be very honest, both your mother and you believe that if she hadn’t gone along with him, he’d be dead by now.

You were often left alone as a child but not completely as your soulmate kept you indirect company and you turned out fine, evidenced by where you were now. The moment you could activate your power, your parents had you mimic theirs so now you could absorb energies and heal others and yourself, which came in very handy when you were left home alone and had to make food for yourself for the first time. Growing up, especially in elementary school, you unintentionally absorbed the powers of almost everyone you made contact with; teachers, friends, family, everyone. The other end never felt anything when their power was mimicked, but for you, it was like a chill running down your spine. Your powers weren’t in control until the end of elementary school as your parents started training you to finely tune your new powers, training you on strategies for defense and offense, preparing for the worst no matter the situation.

Here at the academy, you had a good amount of friends but you never saw them and they never seeked you out so you didn’t really mind. Plus you were one of those kids growing up who got their work done than make friends, so you didn’t really mind having friends or not. School and academics were your number one priority and it showed how well it worked in your favor. Like mentioned earlier, when your parents were out on missions mostly, you had to learn to take care of yourself and not depend on others. Yes, you admitted, it was lonely and you wished your parents were there more often for you, but you were blessed with Wonho, though at that time you didn’t know his name. You didn't know how he did it or if he could feel how you felt but at the very moment you felt your worst, something new would appear somewhere on your body entertaining you. You laid in bed, sat in the kitchen eating, or just doing whatever around the house as you watched as if your life depended on it. It was so intriguing how almost everyone’s skin worked like this. You were captivated with how he chose to draw something; the style, how the ink spread through the minuscule wrinkles in your skin, how he was so creative behind every drawing and doodle.

At this point in your life, you had a good number of powers but you mainly trained the ones you deemed the most essential. The first was demoniaco from the headmaster of the academy, the ability of demonic possession. He, and soon you were able to allow malevolent creatures take over with their own abilities and powers your bodies, allowing you to be a living nightmare in combat. When you received your acceptance letter, you also received an additional letter, requesting a meeting with him alone. Headmaster Voeks, or Jeremiah Voeks and even also known as the legendary prodigium (monster in latin), wished to meet you in person to have a special presentation of your powers. He was a middle aged man, dark black hair with a few light streaks of gray hair showing, but that’s normal for anyone if they were running an academy. His face was stern and serious, slight wrinkling here and there, but that was simple aging, but despite this dark aura, his silver eyes glinted with intrigue. He, as long with all professors at the academy wished for every student to enhance their aptitude profoundly.

Your heart was calm but filled with anxiety as you slowly neared the academy, towering over you as it was immensely larger than you imagined or saw from afar. You remembered visiting this school once, when you were very young. Some things looked familiar and different but it all didn’t matter. The first and last time you were here was when you were about three years old or younger. You easily could’ve teleported to the front gate, but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, peeking at the time. “11:34 am,” you tucked it back in to your black jeans pocket. You took a deep breath before the gate, your hands clutching on to your black trench coat sleeves, your hands in front of you as you took a step toward the black iron gates. You could practically feel the energy radiating off the gates themselves, most likely acting as a security. You looked around, seeing no one in sight, no one to ask for help. You didn’t know what else to do but to simply trigger the alarm. You slowly raised your left hand, prepared for whatever the security mechanism would do to your body. You pressed your hand slowly against the invisible barrier, instantly feeling jolts of electricity surging through your body, but easily adapting to it due to your electrical ability from your aunt on your father’s side. You were able to promptly absorb almost all of the energy of the electricity, allowing the gate to open with ease. You stepped in as your short heeled ankle boots clicked against the pavement, closing the gate behind you, only to turn around to multiple security mages ready to restrict you, their hellhounds ready to pounce and rip you to shreds. A pang of fear shot through your body as you instantly raised your hands in surrender.

“WHO ARE YOU?” bellowed a mage, his pyrokinesis ability showing as his fists were beginning to glow red. He stood tall, more built compared to the others and even had a different pin on his silver uniform. You assumed he was the leader or captain or something, but pushed this thought aside.

“This doesn’t matter right now,” you thought as your voice choked in your throat. You could see other people looking out through windows, most likely students trying to see what was the commodity occuring outside.

The mages which stood next to him showed their different abilities as well, a blonde one with blue eyes with the ability of toxikinesis, you could see the poisonous gas fogging around his hands, two dark skinned officers with vision abilities, one with heat and the other with freeze. The officers’ grew tenser by the minute; the longer you didn’t respond, the more suspicious you looked to them.

You were afraid, helpless but this was an abnormal feeling. You noticed a smaller officer between the visions. He didn’t visibly have an ability but now it was clear; he was amplifying your emotions and feelings and you filled with fear was not a good thing. Your heart raced heavier and heavier by the minute the longer he stared at you. You felt the electricity beginning to spark in your hands, threatening them as if you were about to attack. They stepped closer, ready to end you as you stood there frozen.

“ANSWER, NOW!” A black haired officer with green eyes whose voice boomed in your ears. His voice was a low deep baritone, powerful for a small built person. His voice made it feel as if an earthquake occured, yet the guards who stood around him seemed as if nothing happened.

“A sonic,” you shrunk to your knees, covering your ears as everything around you rattled. You should have known the moment you saw him open his mouth and how strong it was when directed at you. The guards saw this as a chance and made their way to you, holding you down. They swiftly deactivated their abilities, surrounding you in just a few short seconds.

“End this at once,” a low authoritative voice resonated between the guards. All movement stopped as the guards all looked up as a figure stood at the end of the staircase. Silence filled the atmosphere and all that was heard was a gust of wind and birds chirping in the nearby pine trees.

“Prodigium,” your voice barely above a whisper choked out. A heat of embarrassment washed over you as now you realized how bad it must look; a promising student he believed to be is about to be arrested and most likely thrown off of campus forever.

“Release miss Y/L/N, immediately,” his eyes glowed from a dark brown to a red. A cold shock ran down your spine as all hands released you. You fixed yourself up, your once tucked white shirt had got pulled out as you made your way up the stairs, following the headmaster as he wore a black suit shirt with black pants and shoes. You followed behind on the stairs, watching the steps until you approached the top of the stairs. You were stopped by a figure as you bumped into it, almost pushing you back down the stairs. The figure stood firm. You caught yourself as you shyly looked up to make eye contact with the headmaster.

“Thank you,” you shied away as your hands reached for your sleeves once again. You bowed in respect to who you considered in this moment, the strongest you’ve ever gotten near. He seemed much taller this close than before when you were almost pinned on the ground. He gave off an aura that you could not notably describe; it’s wasn’t all good, but it wasn’t all bad either.

“Please, there’s no need, and follow me.” He turned once again, walking swiftly, hidden doorways and hallways appearing which made it a much faster trip to travel from the front entrance to his office. He wore shoes which clicked against the marble floor as a moderate pace. Despite his long legs, he could’ve easily walk at a pace which you would have to jog to keep up, but fortunately he did not.

You felt tickling lines beginning to appear on your left wrist as you followed behind through the grand hallways with the intricately detailed pillars and doorways, but you were much too captivated by the unique architectural designs in this antediluvian building. Light filled the hallways from the extensive windows, open as some weren’t able to open but they were filled with beautiful stained glass. The ceilings held world renown paintings such as the Sistine Chapel ceiling but with a twist. From what you gathered, it was a history and a summary of the world; how there are the paired ones and the lone ones. Your mouth hung slightly agape your eyes wandered around the sumptuous victorian styled building as students were around every corner, talking amongst themselves, in classrooms. A hum of chatter filled your ears as you tailed behind. The walls a cream color and were decorated with meticulously painted paintings of mages from the past. You walked by the individual portraits hung in dark wood frames which complimented the walls. The walk was silent as your senses were slightly on edge due to the fact that you were in the presence of the Prodigium himself. You made a right turn, passing what seemed to be a way which lead to what you assumed was the library as there were signs on the doors warning those to enter to remain silent. Passing it, there were now only a few students here and there occasionally. You made a left turn into a doorway which appeared in a wall before the headmaster which led down a somewhat dark hallway and led to a broad darkwood door with a single silver doorknob in the center of the door, which seemed rather peculiar to you, but you pushed the thought away as it must have been in fashion when the academy was built.

You stepped forward, but was stopped as an imperceptible barrier blocked you from entering. You looked in awkwardly, unsure of what to do next as you stepped back. Despite you feeling very nervous this morning as thoughts from the night before plagued you the night before, you felt quite tranquil. Some of the thoughts were hypothetical situations such as what if the academy overestimated your ability/ abilities and you were just a disappointment. You got an insufficient amount of sleep the night before one of the biggest moments of your life.

“Please, won’t you come in,” the headmaster made eye contact with you as you stood in the doorway. He waved his hand which a thin black fog surrounded his right hand, deactivating the barrier. You were able to feel the strength and power he held from simply removing the barrier from your way, which was a rare occurrence as you were rarely ever able to feel the power behind the mage.

You stepped once again up to the door, now able to stick your foot through, following your body. A smell of the fresh earth filled your nostrils once the barrier disappeared as the room was much darker than the hallway that led up to this area of the school. You pushed the door closed behind you, a dark aura swallowing you, but candles and lamps around the room lit up immediately once the door shut. The left wall was a bookcase which reached the ceiling, filled with books of all sizes, their spines reading in latin texts such as Possessionem and Mentis Imperium.

“Possession and mind control books.” You walked past, looking at as much as you could. In all your life, you had never really seen a true magus liber (mage book) until now, and they were truly beautiful. The magus libers in bookstores were all simply modern ones that always taught basic skills and training routines; they were no use to you at all.

“Intrigued?” the headmaster stood to your right as you stared at the books in awe. “These books are centuries old, even older than the academy itself.” He looked down to your eyes shining with appeal.

“I’ve never seen real magus libers.” you turned to glance at the professor. “The current ones are too modern and if they do sell authentic ones, they’re much too expensive.” A feeling of disappointment bloomed within you as you looked at the books. You wished so deeply that you could have all these books at home for yourself, but if you did and brought them today, it would cost your life as they were that expensive.

“I see.” he looked back up to the shelf, a sense of nostalgia washing over him as he recalled every exact moment his eyes met these books. “Now, we shall begin what you were truly invited here for.” He gestured to a black leathered arm chair in front of his desk, inviting you to sit as he made his way around his desk which was littered with papers you assumed were other application forms and sat in his own large black leather seat.

You nodded and sat down, ready for anything to he would ask your way. You peeked down to your wrist, seeing small lines creating small flowers and meager shapes. There were about three flowers, two with a stem and one without, but the one without was drawn in a black pen as the other two were drawn in red pens. The shapes were unclosed, not completely finished but you assumed they had a reason for it. You peered up as the headmaster pulled your application form, along with numerous recommendations from multiple teachers, tutors, parents, everyone who was able to write a recommendation.

“You my dear, sound gifted and powerful for your age division of eighteen to nineteen. Never in my time have I ever received an application with as many recommendations and support for a mage as you did,” he sat against the back of his chair, his voice as flat as the papers spread out before him. “You hold the ability of imitationis, mages who hold this gift are one in ten million. Tell me,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “What gifts have you mimicked so far? Please demonstrate the most powerful ones you have so far.” He held his hand palm up, insisting you to exhibit your abilities.

“Um, the most powerful ones in my opinion..” You stood up thinking about which ones you really considered the most powerful. “One which I’ve copied are my grandfather’s aciukinesis when I was eight years old.” You pushed the chair you sat in further behind as you quickly scanned his desk and around to see if there were any sharp objects. “Do you have a blade of some sort perhaps that I may use?”

Without any response, the headmaster snapped his finger, summoning a blade of black steel before your eyes. It was a dagger with a white rose engraved into the handle. You picked up the blade, feeling the aciukinesis essentially turning on as if the ability and the others were a switch inside your body. Your eyes glowed a light blue as you focused on the sharpness of the blade, making it as dull as you could. You rolled up your left sleeve, bringing the blade to your wrist and pulling it across as if to cut yourself. But no damage had been done. Your aciukinesis faded away the less you focused and you placed the dagger back onto his desk.

“Next, from one of the guards earlier, pyrokinesis, but due to the fact that I already had hell’s fire ability, these two simply merged, increasing that power.” You raised your hands up, palms down and fingers spread out, closing your eyes and feel all the space in the room. Silence was the only noise in the room, not a single breath was heard. Suddenly your eyes opened glowing a bright orange imitating the colors of fire. You set the room on fire all around, releasing the hottest flames ever felt, but they had no effect on you as you walked around sticking your hand the flames. The headmaster sat still, observing in silence as not a word was spoken from him since the beginning. You closed the palm of your hand, suffocating the burning flames causing them to die. “With my gift, I am able to control any flame and create any flame.” You walked back to where you stood before the professor at his desk. “And since I can create the flames such as I did just now, I controlled the temperature so if you look around.” You looked around the room, as nothing was burned. “Nothing in this room burned. The flames and the heat had no affect on me so it allowed me to reach my hand in and not feel any pain.”

“But you also said just moments before that these flames did not actually burn anything, so how may I believe your true statement?” His voice remained flat, but you heard there was a hint of interest.

Without speaking, you sat back down in the chair, pulling it back to its original spot and raised your left palm. You opened it causing a flame to spark to life. “If you feel yourself, you can feel that this flame is very hot and if I sparked this earlier, the room would have burned down.” The headmaster reached his hand towards the flame, feeling the heat radiate out of your palm, proving it was lethal. Once you saw that he had evidence, you stuck your hand in and you sat there without flinching for about forty seconds before killing the flame and pulling your hand out. Since it had no affect on you, your hand had black ash on it even though it did not burn anything.

“See? Nothing happened.” You gave a small shy smile, feeling better about this interview. “Now my nex-”

“Enough,” the headmaster’s voice now cold cut you off as he sat back. “Like I said before, you my dear are very powerful, but I strongly believe the abilities you are holding as I’ve seen so far could be much stronger. I hereby accept you into the Academy.” The headmaster stood up and made his way around his desk to shake hands with you. “But I also request you do something for me as I’m sure it will increase your power.”

“Thank you sir, but what is it?” Your curiosity piqued as happiness filled your body. Your head tilted slightly to the side as you looked up into his eyes. Your hands’ stopped shaking as he insisted you to sit once again and he sat on his desk.

“I request you to mimic my demoniaco, with it, I will be your personal mentor which no other student has ever had this privilege. Remember my gift is somewhat rare as well, one in seven million.” He stared into your eyes as his voice made you feel he strongly hoped you would accept. You had always heard stories of the legendary Prodigium eliminating those who stood against him to nothing, how he had immense powers far beyond anyone’s mind, but those were days of the past. And like he said, this would be a very big leap in your power level.

You stood there mouth agape in shock from what you just heard. “Did.. Did I hear that right??” you thought to yourself as you sat there speechless. “Wait but, will be mimicking your ability and you being my personal mentor, does this mean it’ll be like a class?” Your voice raised a frequency as you asked.

“If you would like, I could make it a class but only for you. But if you wish to continue your current studies, we can meet every weekend and practice for about a whole school day.” The headmaster offered. This was a bit to take in, but enough where you could process slowly. “What would you like?”

“Uhm, I don’t even know what classes I will be taking yet. I haven’t applied to any classes nor do I know what they offer.” You’ve only heard about some classes from your cousins, but they were always complaining about how easy it was, but then again, they were really smart. You meant to look up some of the offered courses on the website too, but you wanted to spend this summer before school to yourself, before you were officially on your own at school.

“We can easily fix that right now.” The headmaster stood up, sitting back down in his chair and pulling out a syllabus of the school. “From your records, it seems that you exceled promisingly in the basic necessities of life such as mathematics and language. As you enter this academy, you will be focused on the more advanced classes of somewhat complex subjects such as runes and increasing power capacity. I suggest making our meeting as a class period than a weekend. You would like to explore and make friends, correct?” He spoke so fluidly, as his voice was monotone. He was a living statue as he barely moves any facial muscle when he spoke.

“I guess that would be the best..” You sat and thought. A blossom of worry bloomed as you wondered. “Could I handle it?” The worry died down a bit once you felt lines being drawn on your right thigh now; you couldn’t see it but you had a vague idea of what was being drawn. You placed your hand over the slight sensation.

“I assure that you will be academically fine, and as for your powers, the capacity will increase dramatically. For your classes, you may look over this syllabus tonight, fill in the form at the end for your first year classes, and then return this to me tomorrow. If you mimic, you must come in tomorrow to begin the basics for they are difficult to adapt to.” He slid the brown leather syllabus towards you.

You took the syllabus in your hands, studying it making up your mind. “I’ll do it.” Your eyes locked with the professors and decided you were ready and the only way to be successful in this world was to be powerful. A gentle smile grew on his face as your hand clutched your pants.

“Excellent.” He stood up shaking your hand. You stood as well taking his large hand in yours. You mimicked his ability, instantly feeling a heat wave wash down your spine than a cold one which you normally felt. Your eyes instantly glowed a dark blood red as block fog started forming around your feet. The headmaster was surprised with you at first, unknowingly how fast you mimicked, but now it was clear how you mimicked; by physical touch. A vast amount of power surged through your body as you were becoming unstable.

You felt a darkness taking over and no matter how hard you urged your body to stop, it was no use. It was as if you were beginning to drown, the water entering your mouth and filling your body. You felt a slight pain spreading through your veins, a warm subtleness.

“Y/N,” a demonic voice called your name, pulling you out of the darkness. The fog faded away as your eyes returned to their normal color. You realized your body had gone numb, frozen similar to a statue, your muscles sore. You felt all over your left wrist new lines forming and just knowing the presence of your soulmate through your skin calmed you, physically feeling them appear on your skin was enough to make your day.

“What happened to me?” your voice quivered, fearing that if that were to happen again, how would you come out of it? You wondered if it happened again, what would actually happen and what you could possibly do if you lost control.

“The ability activated immediately. You were beginning your first process of completely mimicking my abilities. This is why you will need the classes as I will be your mentor.”

At that time, there was only about a few weeks of Summer before school began. In those few weeks, you were with the headmaster fine tuning your abilities, learning the additional powers that came with demoniaco. Every few days were new lessons for you as a few days after each new lesson were for your to fine tune the best you could.

Once school began, you moved into your down and due to the low acceptance level, almost everyone had their own dorm room to themselves. Your dorm at the end of the hallway, had a lovely view to a courtyard with a small pond filled with rainbow koi fish, pine trees which were almost taller than the school. Your room was filled with essentials from home such as pictures, pillows and blankets, but they were also filled with your own magus libers, the cheap ones from local bookstores, but also some authentic ones, gifted from the headmaster himself. Stress with the classic schoolwork and testings were somewhat more difficult that you imagined, resulting in the balance of your abilities to be off. You were excused from absences but during those times, you would lay in bed. You laid there for hours throughout the day, eating very little but eating when they told you so. You would talk with your soulmate as you drew on your arm and they would reply seconds later. Though you have not them them face to face, the longer the two of you talked, the longer you felt a stronger connection growing and growing between you two. You realized in those times how you were truly cared for especially by someone you’ve never even met. You were happy as you were fortunate enough to be born paired with someone. As the school year was coming to an end, a few months left exactly, you began feeling a weight lifting off your body, more and more so that you did not need to be sent home. The stress were simply vanishing, but you figured it was most likely because of testing ending. As the year went by, you began feeling dramatic changes with your abilities, gaining more as you made new friends, but to your friends, they just knew you as the mage with the powerful ability of pyrokinesis. The headmaster made it clear that your true ability of imitationis must not be revealed as his reasons were simply because “you never know who you could trust” were his exact words so you did not object. As spring break came along, your arms and legs were filled with new pieces of art on a daily basis. For some reason, bodies connected were also restricted. An example would be that you could not write direct things such as “my name is..” Those types of messages would not show up on the skin but you could spread letters out. Bodies paired are like this because soulmates are supposed to meet each other at the right time they were destined when they were born.

One day as you read in your home basement, the air cold enough for you to have an oversized white hoodie on with a blanket. Your parents had left a few days ago to go on a mission, dealing with thieves in a different country. Most missions were from those in third world countries, mages too weak in ability or lacked the knowledge to train, defend, and use their ability properly. You suddenly felt a peculiar cold tingling on your legs and you placed your book down on a glass coffee table, sliding the maroon furry blanket off of your legs to reveal white flowers painted onto your thighs and calves. As long as it showed on your skin, it would show up on your linked half as well. As you stated at your legs, the white paint showing up, you were able to see some letters forming, unsure if it was coincidence or not, however.

“Is that a..W?” Your head tilted left and right, eyebrows furrowed. The paint stopped until you felt two new marks on your right arm. “O-N.. W-O-N? Are they spelling out their name?” You thought to yourself as you scanned your body for more new letters, awaiting for new ones. There was about a brief pause before you felt more scribbling on your arm. You studied your wrist as you brought it closer. “H..O..” Then the writing stopped as you sat there for a minute or two, a smile creeping on your face. “Wonho?” you said aloud as you sat before you reached for a black pen. You opened the cap, writing on the back of your left hand, “are you ready?” It wasn’t long before there was a checkmark drawn next to the question. You moved the blanket off of your legs, revealing your thighs. You took the pen, drawing out five letters of the alphabet before you wrote out the next five a row below. You reached for a red and blue pen off of the coffee table next to your homework and circled the letters “I” and “S” in red. You spelt out the sentence “Is your name Wonho?” from your leg, switching pen colors after every word. You sat there waiting for a response for a moment or two until he responded “yes” on your knee. Even without knowing this person, your heart felt bubbly inside. It was as if it was swelling even though you did not know your soulmate well.

You sat in the bathroom for who knew how long, writing and drawing back and forth on while also scrubbing things off your legs to make space for more writings. He learned your name and many other broken small details, cause again, you couldn’t straight out facts about yourself to your soulmate, which was the only thing you found strange in this world. The topic of where you went to school did not come up until you were about to pass out from exhaustion. The last word you saw appear on your skin was Mapnerry.

~~~~~

Next Chapter

Masterlist

#Monsta X #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x fluff #monsta x x reader #wonho #wonho x reader #shin hoseok #wonho imagines #wonho scenarios #wonho fluff #pillowfluffs #soulmate!wonho

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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 years

Note

hey, could you maybe repost your list of virgin-sherlock fics? and which ones would you recommend especially. thank you.:)

Hi Nonny! I’m actually currently going through my recs because I knew that this would come up one day! Here’s what I have on it so far; I’ll star my personal faves that you MUST read!

Gigantic by BubbleGumLizard (E, 2,135 w. || PWP, Size Kink) – John seems to avoid Sherlock seeing him naked. Sherlock wants to fix that. This is porn. Part 19 of Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015

What He’s Like by magikspell (E, 2,919 w. || Love Confessions, Fluff, First Time, Inexperienced Sherlock) – Realistic first time. They love each other so much. [FAVE!]

Affirmation by jamlockk (E, 3,096 w. || First Time, Dev. Rel., PWP, Love Declarations, Emotional Sherlock, Comforting John, Gross Fluff) – “Sunlight dappled John’s skin, casting a glow across his spreadeagled form as he dozed among the rumpled sheets. Sherlock knew the expression on his face was hopelessly soft but for once did not care about showing his true feelings so openly. He simply stood there, in the doorway, gazing at the impossibly beautiful man currently snuffling softly in his slumber.“ Part 8 of All the ways we love

Well Begun Is Half Done by Avice (E, 3,897 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Anal/Oral, Seduction, John in Charge, Pining Sherlock, John’s Penis, Bottomlock) – Sherlock is putting together an elaborate plan of seducing John. John grows tired of waiting and takes matters into his own hands.

One Day Like This by nondeducible (E, 4,872 w. || First Time, Bed-Sharing, Romance, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, the sight before him nearly took his breath away. The only light in the room was the small lamp on the bedside table. John’s skin shone like gold, his hair like the purest silver. He was on his side, facing the empty part of the bed, his outstretched hands ready to embrace whoever climbed in next to him. Sherlock could imagine, just for a second, that this was their shared bed and he was coming back to settle into John’s arms.

A Study in Intimacy by doodle (T, 5,183 w.|| First Time, Romance, Virginity, First Kiss) – People don’t touch Sherlock Holmes, not like they touch other people. Then he meets John Watson.

Strings by EstherShapiro (E, 5,267 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Massage, Friends to Lovers, Fingering, Anal, PWP) – Sherlock wakes his doctor up. Was this weird? John was sitting on his bed, late at night, rubbing his hands over another man’s body? That was supposed to be weird, right? Then again, this wasn’t just some man, it was Sherlock. They were so used to each other that John didn’t even think to question it. It wasn’t weird.

Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6,090 w. || First Time, Clueless Sherlock, Texting) – Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John’s lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to recieve pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.

The Effect of Memory by testosterone_tea (E, 6,430 || Praise Kink, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Smut, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Confused Sherlock) – John has temporary amnesia coming off of anaesthesia after an operation and not only does he not recognize Sherlock, he starts flirting with him! After John recovers, he doesn’t remember the incident at all. But Sherlock does. Confusion ensues.

Inside by magikspell (E, 6,757 w. || Loss of Virginity, Anal / Rimming, Fluff, Humour, Awkwardness, Shy Sherlock, Bottomlock) – "Being inside someone. Feeling someone inside you.”

The space between by Salambo06 (E, 6,830 w. || PWP, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Miscommunications, Bottom Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Sexual Fantasy) – “It’s for a case,” Sherlock says as soon as John looks down at his computer. John remains silent for a long moment, eyes moving from the screen to Sherlock, before saying, “You don’t have to explain.” His voice is low, too low, and Sherlock looks at the computer, putting the video on pause. “Lestrade asked me-, no, forced me to find out who’s threatening a famous porn star, and the suspect is among his co-stars, so I only need to watch out for any signs from his partners, anything that might show they’re the one sending those threats and I can move to something else.” “Right.”

Drive by lifeonmars (M, 9,537 w. || Virginity, Awkward First Times, Minor Injuries) – John and Sherlock are stranded by the roadside, and John is injured. They need to spend the night in the back of a humvee. Sherlock is confused. John is understanding. [FAVE!]

Paparazzi by SilentAuror (E, 10,543 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Post S3) – John moves back into 221B Baker Street after his marriage falls apart and the paparazzi won’t leave him and Sherlock alone about the status of their supposed relationship. Sherlock, of course, never denies it, until one day he does…

The Thin Line by Odamaki (M, 10,809 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Confessions, First Times, Anal) – John swallows. Keeps his eyes on Sherlock. Begs him not to ruin him.Sherlock leans forward over the witness box ever-so slightly, “I was distracted,” he informs the court, “by my partner, John Watson.”

Praise Me by testosterone_tea (E, 11,813 w. || Sherlock POV, Bottomlock, Dev. Rel., Virgin Sherlock, First Kiss / TimeBJ’s, Anal, Praise Kink) – In which Sherlock has an interesting physical reaction to compliments and John discovers it.

Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Missing Christmas Spirit by SilentAuror (M, 15,002 w. || Christmas, Domesticity, Post S3, Happy Ending) – John hates Christmas. So does Sherlock, but he suggests that they do Christmas "properly” this year to see if they can’t track down its elusive magic and discover for themselves what Christmas is supposed to be about. [FAVE!!!]

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there. [FAVE!]

For you, there’s only me by shock_blanket (E, 19,557 w. || Jealous Idiots, Virgin Sherlock, UST/RST, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss / Time, Insecure Sherlock, Masturbation) – Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock’s part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there’s only John. [FAVE!]

At the Heart of it All by SilentAuror (E, 19,812 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Post S3, POV John, Domestics, First Time, Kissing, Romance) – John has been back at Baker Street for four months now and thinks it’s about time they had the Talk to see whether or not they could be more than friends. Sherlock has a lot of uncertainty about this concept for multiple reasons. Unabashed romance.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?) [FAVE, MUST READ!]

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w. || Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen. [FAVE!]

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John’s POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm (E, 35,663 w. || Alternating POV, MollyxJohn [Molly pines for John], Public Sex, Casual Sex, Obliviousness, BAMF!John, Awkwardness, Angst & Humour, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Molly sees John in a new light and realises that she may have hitched her horse to the wrong wagon…or something like that. John pines for Sherlock and worries what he will think if he ever finds out. And Sherlock doesn’t know what Molly’s up to…but he knows he doesn’t like it.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him. [FAVE FAVE FAVE! MUST READ!!]

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – “Do you just carry on talking when I’m away?”

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #virgin sherlock #virginlock #Anonymous #my fic recs

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asflowersfade · 7 years

Text

Scribble-Doodle: Beating Heart

MalecWeek2017, Day 5: Non-supernatural AU.

Magnus will never again take a thing as simple as a heartbeat for granted.

“How is he?” Jace asks and his voice is quiet, hesitant over the phone.

Magnus steps over to the French window and looks out into the sunlit backyard where Alec’s lying in a hammock in the shadow of a large tree, swinging gently back and forth in the light afternoon breeze.

“Resting,” Magnus answers with a little smile.

“Good,” Jace replies more brusquely now, clearing his throat. “Don’t let him do anything strenuous, you know he’s stubborn as a mule. And don’t let him come back to work, under any circumstances. I already threatened him with drastic measures should he do so but I’m not sure he believed me.”

Magnus’ smile widens. “What drastic measures?”

“I told him I would personally bankrupt the company, if need be, so that he would have no place to come back to and that would be it!”

Magnus laughs, easily imagining how that exchange must’ve gone. “I bet he had a heart at--” He cuts himself off sharply, his laugh suddenly gone.

It’s not a joke. It’s not funny. It’s too soon. It’ll never be not too soon. Magnus wants to apologize for his stupid mouth running away from him but he doesn’t need to. Jace hears his “I’m sorry” in his silence, in his slightly hitching breath.

Because Jace was there when Alec collapsed in his office, he was the one who called 911, he was the one who administered CPR, he was the one who saved Alec’s life - while Magnus was in San Francisco, scolding an employee of his for… Magnus doesn’t even remember for what anymore. He found out about what happened only after it was all over, after his lover was in the hospital, stabilized, breathing and with his heart beating once more. Jesus...

“Just…” Jace starts, then falls silent again. “Make sure that he rests, alright? That he takes his meds and doesn’t think about anything but getting well again. Nothing else matters. We’ll take care of the company, me and Izzy, Clary and Simon and… and everyone, we should’ve done that a long time ago, taken on more responsibility. Then Alec wouldn’t have had to--” Now it’s Jace who cuts himself off.

No one should suffer a stress induced heart attack at 32. No one. They all feel responsible. They all think that they should’ve done something.

“I’ll take care of him,” Magnus promises, still watching Alec swinging gently in the hammock back and forth, back and forth. “I’ll make sure he rests. Even if I have to tie him down.”

Jace groans. “Oh my God, too much information. Keep your perverted fantasies to yourself!” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

It works. Magnus smiles.

Magnus walks out onto the veranda, then the three steps down and across the lush green lawn towards the large tree growing at the edge of the yard where it meets the beach, a smooth strip of pale, sun-warmed sand. Past it, there’s nothing but the ocean, blue and endless and whispering. It’s the perfect place for a much needed vacation.

Walking up to the hammock, Magnus stops in the cool shade of the tree and smiles down at his lover. Alec’s asleep, the book he planned on reading is lying open and forgotten in his lap. His head’s tilted slightly towards the sea and he’s snoring very quietly. It’s quite adorable. Magnus could stare at him forever.

Then Alec snuffles a little, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He turns his head, and seeing Magnus standing there, he smiles lazily. “Hey,” he greets him.

“Hey,” Magnus responds.

“Came to check on me?” Alec asks.

Magnus nods. “Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Alec lifts his arm in invitation. “Maybe you should come closer, then? Your eyesight isn’t what it used to be anymore, as we both know,” he remarks, eyes dancing with mischief.

“Rude!” Magnus grumbles as he climbs into the hammock and sets it swinging.

“But true,” Alec points out. He wraps his arm around Magnus’ shoulders and pulls him closer. “You do need glasses, you’re just too vain to admit it.”

Magnus harrumphs and doesn’t bother to answer such a ridiculous accusation. He and vain. Pah! Nonsense.

Settling down, Magnus snuggles in and rests his head against Alec’s chest. Alec’s chest hair tickles a little, but he doesn’t mind at all. It’s a familiar, cozy feeling, as familiar as Alec’s warmth, as the sound of his strong, regular heartbeat. Magnus has never heard anything more wonderful than the thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump under his ear now. So wonderful.

Magnus thinks he’s subtle. He’s not.

“I’m okay, Magnus,” Alec assures his lover tenderly, rubbing his back. “I won’t ever let it get so bad again. No more fourteen hour days. No more weekends at the office. No work at all in the foreseeable future, apparently.” Now he sounds a little sour.

Magnus smiles. “I heard that Jace threatened to bankrupt the company if you went back before you were fully recovered.”

“He would,” Alec mutters, but there’s true affection in his voice.

“You could always become a kept man, you know?” Magnus suggests, patting Alec’s flat stomach. “My kept man. The restaurants are doing better than ever now that I let Raphael expand our cuisine. I could afford being a sugar daddy. Don’t you think I would be a great sugar daddy?”

Alec laughs and Magnus’ head bounces a little on his lover’s chest. It makes him smile.

Then Alec stops laughing. He pauses for a moment and when he speaks again, there’s something in his voice that makes Magnus pay close attention. “Or we could take it a step further. I could become your househusband.”

Breath hitches in Magnus’ chest and he lifts his head to look Alec in the eyes. “You mean…”

Alec smiles and runs his fingers through Magnus’ hair. “Yeah. I wanted to ask you before… well, before, and I bought you a beautiful ring - it’s in my bedside table at home - and I had all these elaborate plans and--”

Magnus kisses him. He kisses Alec deeply and thoroughly, making love to his mouth. And when they part for breath, he stares down at his lover whose eyes are now a little unfocused and whose lips are beautifully swollen from kissing.

“Yes. If you’re actually asking me to marry you--”

“Well, that’s what I was trying to do, you interrupted me!�� Alec protests.

“--then my answer is yes,” Magnus finishes, grinning.

Laughing, Alec pulls Magnus down and hugs him tight, setting the hammock swinging so hard that Magnus squeaks and flails a little, even though he knows that Alec would never let him fall. He’s perfectly safe in his lover’s - fiancé’s! - arms. Safe and loved.

And Alec’s heart’s going thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump, its rhythm strong and beautiful; Magnus will never again take it for granted.

#scribbledoodle #malecweek2017 #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #my fics #my shadowhunters fics #my malec fics

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