#i also wanted to draw him kinda scruffy + chest hair too

[impossible-rat-babies]

i wanted 2 draw hair clippies

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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[sunsetcurvecuddles]

Hello you told me not to hold back so I’m gonna be ANNOYING feel free to ignore indefinitely until you’re feeling it but I’m gonna send you like a bunch of prompts cause I can’t sleep and am stalling finishing my own fic.

First one: Bobby (obviously), Reggie or Luke or friends I don’t even care, tea and blankets

lol hi have a rebuke cuddle-puddle disaster, also available on ao3 here. warning for swearing and very vague allusions to physical child abuse.

i guess we belong to each other | reggielukebobby | 1.8k words

--

Luke has his guitar in his lap and his writing notebook by his side even though it's late at night. He's playing his acoustic, so that he has no chance of stirring Bobby's parents from where he's sat in their studio, and though he'd never admit it to anyone, it's cold enough that he's found one of Alex's hoodies in the back of the studio, a black one Alex never wears any more, and he's bundled up in it to try to fight off the chills. He regrets storming out earlier this evening — not because his parents might be worried, he's still too mad at them for that, but because he misses his own warm bed in a house with central heating.

But it's late, and he doesn't want to bother Bobby, who's already been generous enough as it is (and is exceptionally grumpy when he's woken in the middle of the night). So Alex's old hoodie, smelling vaguely of the dusty studio and distantly of Alex, will have to do.

A noise distracts Luke from his writing. Something outside the studio, maybe an animal, but it sounded like footsteps. Cautiously, he draws his guitar closer, running through what he could say if it's Bobby's parents, his heart suddenly rabbit-fast in his chest.

A head pokes through the door.

Luke's shoulders drop with relief.

It's Reggie.

He looks a little scruffy, not like himself, because usually Reggie pays such close attention to his appearance, fusses over his hair and colour-codes his outfits and shaves with the precision of a professional painter. But he kinda looks messy, which makes Luke's stomach feel even colder than the air around him.

“Oh! Hey, man,” Reggie laughs, putting on a big smile, and it'd fool anyone else — Reggie's too experienced at this for his own good. “I didn't know you'd be here!”

“Hi, Reg,” says Luke, sounding a little distracted even to his own ears as he carefully looks Reggie over. He's not walking like he's been hurt, and there are no visible injuries. So that's something. Jesus, Luke wouldn't know what to do if Reggie turned up here with a fresh version of the bruises Luke sometimes catches him trying to hide. “You, uh — you good?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Reggie agrees easily, saunters into the studio and slumps down on the couch next to Luke. The relaxed way he moves soothes Luke's worry somewhat. “The house was just — ugh. You know how they can be.” Looking over at Luke, Reggie adds, “Hey, isn't that Alex's hoodie? I was wondering what had happened to that.”

“Hey!” Luke sputters, a little defensive. “He didn't, like, loan it to me or anything, it was just here! I found it.”

“It is cold,” Reggie concedes, pulling his flannel a little tighter around him. “Wish I'd brought my jacket, but it was in the kitchen and I didn't wanna. I dunno. Didn't wanna get in the way.”

Luke nods, puts his guitar to the side so he can press up against Reggie's side. Hip to hip, his cheek on Reggie's shoulder, links their ankles together and puts an arm over Reggie's stomach. Almost automatically, Reggie links his arms around Luke in turn.

Honestly, Luke was intending to steal some of Reggie's body heat, but after Reggie's walk outside and in such a thin layer, he thinks Reggie's probably leeching his own. Luke lets him go ahead; Reggie seems to need it more than he does.

They sit for a moment, both unusually quiet, huddling and not talking. Not so much for a lack of things to talk about, but more because any topic that comes to Luke's mind feels insurmountably complex and emotional. There’s so much stuff he can't tell Reggie — so much stuff Reggie isn't telling him. So they sit together and try to create some warmth without the need for disclosure.

Until there's another set of scuffled footsteps outside.

“Not Alex too,” Reggie sighs, at a whispered volume so that the newcomer can't hear him, “he squirms so much in his sleep, man, I can't share this pull-out with him again.”

Luke muffles a laugh with the back of his hand, but he can't help worry it's Alex, too. Things have been... okay, he thinks, with Alex's folks since he came out, but he also knows Alex hoped for better. Suspects there are things Alex isn't telling them (so they all have that in common).

But it's not Alex. Preceded by an armful of blankets that he's almost tripping on, Bobby staggers in, still in his pajamas and with his eyes almost all the way closed. “Luke? It's fucking freezing, I thought I'd—” He stops when he gets far enough in to see Reggie on the couch too. “Oh, shit.”

“Hey, Bobby,” says Reggie, voice a little nervous. “I hope it's okay that I—”

“Shut up,” Bobby grumbles, and dumps the whole pile of blankets on top of Reggie. “You guys are stupid. You're both out here, in the freezing cold, and neither of you come wake me up?”

“We didn't want—” Luke starts, at the same time as Reggie insists, “You were sleeping—!”

“Idiots,” Bobby growls, rubbing his eye with his sweater paw and yawning. He looks stupidly cute, like a little kid. “You're idiots, and I hate dealing with you. I'll be back.” Turning to leave the studio again, he turns back and adds, “Hurry up and burrito yourselves in those blankets, I swear to god. And Luke, isn’t that Alex’s hoodie?”

“He left it—!” Luke starts, but Bobby’s already gone, leaving Luke with Reggie, cackling at him.

—

By the time Bobby returns, Luke and Reggie have folded the couch out into its bed form, and are snuggling under the several blankets, giggling together as they talk about how grumpy Bobby had been.

“We should have woken him up,” Reggie snorts, “I think then he would have been less pissed.”

“I would have,” Bobby agrees, sounding somewhere between menacing and amused, as he reappears over them. His hair is all shaggy in his face. He's carrying a teapot. And cups. “Sit up.”

Luke does right away, Reggie pulling himself up a little slower. Bobby sits cross-legged at the foot of the couch-bed, tucking his socked toes under his own legs to keep warm, and pours them each a mug of what smells like peppermint tea. Suddenly, Luke can't imagine anything better in the world. When Bobby offers him a cup, he takes it eagerly, wrapping his cold hands around it and enjoying the steam wafting up to his face.

“Wow,” says Reggie softly, eyes wide, “thanks, Bobby.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Luke echoes, letting out a sigh as he takes his first sip.

“Forget it,” Bobby says, a little bitey. Luke knows it's because Bobby hates being seen as nice, so he doesn't take it personally, and he knows Reggie won't either. He has his own cup, which he drinks as though it's done something to offend him, scowling off into the corner of the studio. Reggie nudges Bobby with his foot from under the layers of blankets, and a tiny smile tugs at Bobby's mouth as he nudges Reggie back with his elbow.

After the cup of tea, Luke feels better. He feels warmer on the inside, now, and sleepy too. Reggie is starting to get that dopey, slow blink that shows he's on the verge of sleep as well. Bobby clears his throat and holds out a hand, beckoning for their empty cups. Luke and Reggie hand them over.

“Okay,” says Bobby, after a pause. “G'night, guys.” He goes to stand, but Reggie leans forward and catches Bobby's sleeve.

“Would you stay?” he asks, as if he can't help himself, as if on sheer impulse, but he doesn’t look embarrassed afterwards.

“Reg!” Luke says, a little startled. “It's cold out here, he won't want—”

But he sees Bobby's face, and he stops himself. Because he can see it in Bobby's eyes. That he does want. He’s Bobby, so he won't say it, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on some point behind Luke and Reggie's heads, but Luke has known Bobby for too long to miss something this obvious, no matter what else Bobby can hide from him.

“That being said,” Luke backtracks hurriedly, “it would be warmer with you here, Wilson. I'm happy to be a leech.”

“That's all I'm good for, huh?” Bobby snorts, but he's already setting the mugs down on the floor near the side of the bed, already shuffling the teapot down there too. He hops up for a moment, and Luke wonders where he’s going, before he realises Bobby is just switching off the light. When Bobby comes back, he pauses, like he's not sure where he fits, and Luke and Reggie make eye contact for only a second before they move apart, leaving a space in the middle.

Bobby looks even less sure of himself, eyebrows knitted, jaw tight. His hands flex and one of them twists in the hem of his sweater. Luke gets it. It looks too much like it's on Bobby's behalf, like they’re doing it to make space for Bobby. Bobby’s always had trouble accepting anything that seems like it’s for his own benefit.

“I already sucked all Reggie's warmth up,” Luke explains.

“Yeah,” Reggie agrees immediately, and Luke loves him, “and you're warmer than Luke anyway, man. I wanna huddle with you. As a penguin, you would be my first-choice huddle-buddy.”

Bobby barks a laugh. “The fuck? What does that even mean?” Finally, he wriggles his way under the blankets in between them, and rolls his eyes when they both throw limbs over him right away, twining legs and arms together and resting cheeks on his chest.

“Like, if we were penguins. You know? In the winter?” Reggie says, like this is totally obvious and self-explanatory. “If I was a penguin, I'd be looking for the Bobby-penguin in the winter huddle to stick close to.”

“Aaand I'm at my capacity for dumb shit,” Bobby says, closing his eyes pointedly, but it's a scam, because his hands come to run through Luke and Reggie's hair. “Goodnight, morons.”

“Goodnight, Bobby,” they chorus. This close, Luke could almost brush noses with Reggie, has to try to focus his eyes to keep Reggie from getting blurry. Reggie sticks his tongue out at Luke just a little, and Luke grins back, links his fingers with Reggie’s over Bobby’s stomach, rubbing over Reggie’s knuckles until Reggie’s fingers don’t feel so much like icicles. When Luke uses his free hand to tug the neckline of Alex’s hoodie up over his nose, the familiar smell of the third piece of his heart soothes him right down.

The feel of Bobby’s fingernails on his scalp makes Luke’s eyelids flutter, and before he knows it he’s dopey, the world feeling blurrier and safer and cozier. Honestly, more like home than his own house would have. He no longer daydreams of returning to his own warm bed. Instead, he feels the way Bobby’s chest rises and falls with his breaths, pushing his and Reggie’s joined hands up and down. If he listens closely, Luke can hear Bobby’s heartbeat, familiar and steady.

Maybe the cold isn't all bad.

--

other prompt fills here :)

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[toxoiddiamond]

T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Rafael Caleb Isserlis Nicknames: His family all call him Ray, but most people just call him Rafael. Age: 30 Birthday: June 6th Zodiac Sign: Gemini Birthplace: Sunnyvale, California Current Location: Barcelona, Spain Speaks: English, Spanish, some Castilian, a bit of Hebrew but not much. Dominant Hand: Right Education: He graduated from UC Berkeley with a Bachelor of Arts degree. His original focus was Computer Software Engineering, but he switched his focus to Drawing and Painting in his sophomore year. Occupation: Bouncer at a strip club, and he has been working on a comic book with a friend (Rafael is working on the art, and his friend is the writer/story creator) for about a year. They hope to publish and sell it at some point soon. Vehicle: 2003 Opel Zafira in silver. Not the most attractive car, but he got it for cheap and it has been very reliable for him. Worldly Possessions: Lots of art supplies, a bunch of comic books, tons of dog toys, a photo album full of family pictures (put together for him by his mother before he moved to Spain), and tons of blankets and pillows because he loves to be comfy~ Pet(s): A black and white Mucuchi named Oreo. Rafael loves taking Oreo pretty much anywhere that dogs are allowed, and Oreo is always very happy to go on adventures.

A P P E A R A N C E Height: Just under 6’ Hair: He generally keeps it trimmed short just because it is easier to take care of, though he occasionally grows it out a little longer so the curls really show. He’s never dyed it before, so it is his natural dark brown color. Facial Hair: He always has at least a little bit of facial hair, even if it’s just some light scruffiness. He does like to let it grow out more sometimes. Eye Colour: Brown with some flecks of hazel Skin Tone: Dark, though the tone varies depending on the time of year. He is quite a bit darker in the warmer months thanks to his love of the outdoors. Clothing: He dresses casually for the most part, lots of jeans and t-shirts (especially band tees). If he’s working, he might wear a nice jacket as well. He almost always wears combat boots, unless he’s going running or hiking, then he’ll wear comfy sneakers. He loves wearing beanies, especially in colder weather, and he has them in a bunch of different colors. Although he doesn’t have much reason to dress up, he does look great in a suit and has some nice clothes on hand just in case. Distinguishing Marks: He has a couple of large tattoos on his chest, and a half sleeve on his left arm. He plans on getting more tattoos at some point, but he hasn’t decided what he wants or where. Face Claim: Jordan Calloway

H E A L T H Physical Health: Rafael is in excellent health– he loves doing any sort of physical activity, especially if it involves being outdoors, so he's very fit. He works out on a regular basis and eats quite healthy (though he's not opposed to a little junk food now and then). He gets sick now and then, just minor things like a cold or a mild case of the flu, but he's never been seriously sick or anything. Basically, Rafael takes great care of himself. Physical Abilities/Limitations: He can lift very heavy things thanks to his weight training at the gym. He's got good endurance/stamina– he can hike or run for quite a long time before needing a break. He's a good artist with a very distinctive style; he is constantly drawing, doodling on napkins, just keeping his hands busy whenever he can. Addictions: No addictions to speak of. Allergies: Citrus in general makes his mouth hurt, but sometimes he eats it anyway because he just can't resist. Mental Health: Generally good. He had a very stable upbringing with lots of supportive friends and family around. He is lucky enough to never have experienced any sort of mental illness or any really traumatic events in his life.

H I S T O R Y Summary: Rafael was born in Sunnyvale, California to wealthy parents (his mother is an OB/GYN, and his father is a very successful software engineer). He was the fourth of five children. He grew up surrounded by a very loving family, including much of his extended family, and had a near idyllic childhood. Growing up, Rafael always showed an aptitude for art– he was quite a skilled artist from a young age, but he also had a deep interest in his father’s work and loved all things to do with technology. He taught himself to code when he was about twelve years old and even made a couple of very basic games just to practice. Rafael was always a great student, not exactly straight A’s since he had a bit of a hard time in his literature classes and some of the more complicated math classes, but he never got any grades lower than a B, and he always tried his hardest and studied a lot, did extra credit whenever he could, etc. He also always had a lot of friends and was a bit girl crazy in high school, so he was always dating a new girl. He was on his high school’s soccer team as well– the PE coach always wanted him to go out for the football team, but Rafael hated football and still does, so he never bothered, preferring to use the time to do various volunteer projects or just hang out with his friends. Thanks to his excellent GPA and a wealth of extracurriculars and volunteer experience, Rafael had an easy time getting accepted into UC Berkeley. He initially majored in Computer Software Engineering, as he’d always planned– but after a trip across Europe with some of his friends just before his Sophomore year of college, he had a shift in perspective and realized that he really wanted to focus on his art after all. He changed his major to focus on Drawing and Painting, which was a bit of a surprise to his family, but they were, as always, very supportive of his decision, especially since it turned out he wouldn’t lose any progress toward his degree. After graduating, Rafael decided to do what he’d always wanted to do and live abroad. He decided on living in Spain, since he had taken nearly eight years of Spanish between high school and college and was almost fluent at that point. He spent a few years just travelling around Spain, exploring, working odd jobs, meeting people, just having a good time. Eventually he ended up settling in Barcelona after meeting a particularly good group of people, finding himself a quaint little house in the heart of the city, and getting a job as a bouncer in a local strip club. He has been there ever since. Job History: He didn't have his first job until college– he worked as a barista at a Starbucks on campus for his entire college career, which he actually really enjoyed. Once he moved to Spain and started traveling around, he did tons of odd jobs helping out with manual labor, working in restaurants, helping out around people's houses, doing yard work, just anything he could find that didn't require a lot of commitment. Once he settled in Barcelona, he took a job as a bouncer in a strip club because it paid decently well and fit into his schedule very nicely– that is where he's been ever since. Fondest Memories: Lots of happy childhood memories, too many to list actually. One of his fondest memories is his trip across Europe with his college friends. Plus all his adventures across Spain and the various times his sister Eliana has come to visit him. Worst Experiences: His paternal grandparents both died in a car accident when Rafael was fourteen, and that was probably the single worst experience of his life. A couple of his breakups were particularly rough on him as well.

C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: Definitely not a smooth talker, but not super awkward either (unless he’s trying to flirt). He’s laid back when he speaks, not overly formal, always seems pretty relaxed (again, unless he is attempting to flirt). He doesn’t talk excessively, but he’s not quiet or shy either, always loves to jump into a conversation, especially if it’s about a subject he’s interested in. If someone gets him started on a subject he’s passionate about, he gets very animated and excited about it. Accent: American accent, which sometimes comes through in his Spanish– though his Spanish accent, for the most part, is pretty good. Favorite Phrases or Words: He says “oh snap!” a lot when speaking English, something that rubbed off on him thanks to his younger sister. Usual Curse Words: He doesn’t curse a whole lot– it’s not that he’s offended by cursing or anything, he just kind of doesn’t think to curse unless he’s angry or really passionate about something.

P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: ENFP-A Sense of Humor: Rafael loves to laugh and has a pretty open sense of humor. The only type of humor he doesn’t vibe with is super offensive or raunchy/sexual humor, that’s just not his thing. But anything silly, clever, wordplay or puns, non-sequitur/weird humor, all of that is totally his cup of tea. Habits: Rafael is a bit fidgety and always has to be doing something with his hands. He can be still if he actively focuses on not fidgeting, but it's a little difficult for him. He's constantly drawing on napkins or little pieces of paper, on himself, and on others if they'll let him. If he doesn't have a pen handy then he'll crack his knuckles or he'll kinda rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. He just really cannot hold still unless his mind is fully occupied with something. Fears/Phobias: The whole idea of ghosts or demons really freaks him out. He also sometimes has a touch of existential dread and wonders if he’s going to be alone forever, but that usually doesn’t last long, just a sleepless night or two and then he gets past it. Strengths: Rafael is a very caring, sweet person who is genuinely interested in other people and loves to help whenever he can. He is attentive to people’s needs and tends to anticipate those needs in advance, so he is quite a thoughtful person. In general, he’s an optimist who likes to look on the bright side of things no matter how bad the situation may get and tries not to let the little things get him down. He is also very protective of those he loves, and though he is friendly to people almost all of the time, if anyone is rude to or tries to hurt someone he cares about, he won’t hesitate to speak up on behalf of or physically protect his loved one. Flaws: While his optimism is often a positive trait, Rafael sometimes takes it too far and doesn’t allow himself to just be sad or angry now and then, even when it would be good for him. He tends to suppress any emotion he perceives as negative instead of actually processing his feelings. In relationships, he can be a bit possessive and jealous at times, but he knows that’s his own problem and he really tries not to take it out on his partners. Hopes/Desires: He really hopes to get his comics published at some point– he just really wants to get them out there, even if they don’t get super popular or anything, he’s just really proud of their work and wants people to see it. He also really wants to find someone he can settle down with (or go on adventures with), someone he can spoil with tons of love and affection. He would love to get married and maybe have kids someday, but if his partner didn’t want children he would be okay with that also. Self-Esteem: Super good, honestly. He has his moments of insecurity just like anyone else, but overall he is comfortable with himself and believes himself to be a good person. Religion: Kinda Jewish, kinda atheist. It’s complicated.

R A N D O M Sleeping Position: Curled up on his right side, usually. Boxers or Briefs?: Boxers Day or Night?: Night for sure, he is naturally a night owl. Top or Bottom?: Probably top more than anything, but if he was with a partner that wanted to switch it up, he would happily give it a try~ Partying or Relaxing?: This would be a really hard choice for him, but he would probably have to go with partying. He loves the atmosphere of a good party.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: Besides his younger sister, Rafael's best friend is Isabel Maduro, a woman he met when he moved to Barcelona. They have been working together on a comic book series for a while now; she is a very talented writer who comes up with stories that blow Rafael's mind. They see each other fairly often not just to work on the comics, but to go on walks or out to lunch, or on the occasional hike. Relationship History: Rafael had a ton of relationships in high school, many of which lasted two weeks or less and obviously those relationships didn't get serious at all– Rafael was just kind of playing the field at that point. He didn't actually have sex, or a serious relationship, until his first year of college. He then dated his first serious girlfriend, and they lasted about six months before she broke things off because she felt he was more attached than she was and she didn't want to waste his time. That is actually how all of Rafael's relationships have gone since then– he always gets broken up with before a year has passed (often much sooner than that) because they're not as into him as he is into them, or he's just too much, being too intense, etc. As a result, he's now reluctant to express his feelings at all because he doesn't want to put pressure on anyone. Sexual Partners: Rafael doesn't exactly get around or anything, but he has had about a dozen sexual partners in his life, all of them women. Thoughts About Sex: Rafael loves sex within the confines of a relationship but doesn't have much interest in it other than that. One night stands, flings, anything like that is not for him. So far, Rafael has only been with women. He's been attracted to men before and he knows he's definitely not straight, but he's always been way too nervous to try and flirt with men. He has never come out to anyone but if he were to end up in a relationship with a man, he wouldn't hesitate to come out– his sister Eliana is a lesbian and currently engaged to another woman, and was readily accepted by their family, so he knows they would all support him if he ever told them.

P A R E N T S Name(s): Shira and Booker Isserlis Age(s): Both 64 years old. Social Standing: White collar for sure, and they are in very good social standing. Occupation(s): She is an OB/GYN who is set to retire in a couple of years, and he is a computer software engineer who doesn’t plan to retire anytime soon. Religion: She is Jewish and he is agnostic, but does observe/celebrate Jewish holidays and events. Quality of Relationship With Their Children: They love and support all of their children unconditionally. They do worry about Rafael sometimes just because he’s more of a wanderer than their other children, he’s a bit more aimless, but they know he can take care of himself. Living/Deceased: Both alive and in excellent health.

S I B L I N G (S) Name(s): Daniel Isserlis, Itai Isserlis, Tamar Huang, and Eliana Isserlis (soon to be Eliana Florakis). Age(s): 34, 32, 31, 29. Yes, their parents basically had all of their children back to back. Social Standing: They have all done very well for themselves, and are all in good social standing. Occupation(s): Daniel is a software engineer and works with their father. Itai is a forensic accountant and he has helped to arrest many white collar criminals. Tamar runs a non-profit organization that helps underprivileged children by providing housing, food, education/tutors, and after school activities. And Eliana is an event planner who specializes in weddings. Religion: Daniel and Tamar are still devoutly Jewish. Itai and Eliana are more like Rafael– they appreciate and enjoy aspects of Judaism but they don’t really believe in it. Quality of Relationship with Character: Rafael loves all of his siblings and would do just about anything for them, but he is definitely the closest with Eliana out of all of them. He really only sees/talks to his other siblings a few times a year, but he talks to Eliana all the time. Living/Deceased: All alive.

D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: He lives in a cute little one bedroom house right in the heart of the city, on a very busy street. He loves being right in the middle of everything, so it’s ideal for him. The place was a bit rundown when he first bought it, but he has fixed it up quite a bit and although no one would say it’s luxurious or anything, it’s definitely nice and comfortable. He loves having guests over and has lots of seating and a large TV, plus a pull-out couch in the living room just in case anyone stays the night, not to mention a spacious king sized bed in his room.

[pinballwitxh]

get down tonight - imagine - steven hyde x oc

Get Down Tonight, KC and the Sunshine Band

summary: after accidentally slamming a door into steven hyde’s face, a fellow classmate catches his interest and he pays her a late-night visit.

warnings: drug usage and cursing

a/n: I am so glad I am writing one for Hyde, my favorite character of that 70′s show!!!  also I know all the stoner terms since I myself am a hardcore stoner.  so this was an absolute blast to write!  enjoy y’all!  there will definitely be more to this, I may make it a small series of stories with this same character and their storyline.

1976 - KENOSHA, WISCONSIN

She could see him across the dance-floor, dark and brooding yet somehow still as handsome as ever.  She rolled her eyes and turned back to talk to her friends.  Somehow she was angry at him for being so cool but so bad. 

Steven Hyde always made her furious, especially at school.

When he wasn’t getting away with skipping school or sneaking out at night, he took the punishments without a care in the world, and continued to act so stupid.  He never got in the trouble he deserved.  

“Look at that burnout, always frowning.” one of her friends scoffed.

She nodded, “It annoys me.”

“Did you see him dancing with Donna Pinciotti earlier?  Clearly she had no interest, don’t blame her.” another friend said while sipping on a water. She glanced back to the wall he was leaning against, still in the same position with the same look.

Around them couples were pouring out onto the floor.  The girl sighed when she turned back to find her friends gone.  With a huff she stood and knocked her chair over.  The disco was supposed to be the most fun place around, a place where you could find friends and a partner to dance with.

She was expecting to waltz in and find a gentlemanly boyfriend, actually.

The bathroom was empty when she slammed the door open.  For a few minutes she stood in front of the mirror examining her makeup and tightly curled hair.  She frowned to herself and thought to herself, why does no one pick me?

After giving herself a quiet reassurance she left for the exit and was surprised to hear a thud on the other side of the door when she opened it.  She sucked in a sharp breath and peered around the frame and gasped quietly.

Steven Hyde was laying on the floor with a hand to his nose, groaning just the tiniest bit.  

She stuck a hand out, took it back, stuck it out, and finally held it back to herself with a wince.  If she left before he sat up she would be in the clear, she could pretend like she hadn’t just rammed a door into his scruffy face.

She turned on her heel and began to walk away quickly but quietly, wincing at the tone of his voice when he called out, “What the hell, man?  I can hear you walking away so don’t even think about walking away,”

Dead in her tracks, she took a deep breath and turned back to face him.

“Sorry, sorry, I thought-”

“Thought you could get away?  Yeah, I saw you.” he growled as he sat up slowly with his hand still gloved over his nose, “You know hit-and-runs are illegal?”

A small smile threaten to pull at her lips but she held back, leaning down to offer him a hand.

“I said I was sorry, let me help you up,” she insisted.

Steven sighed and took her hand tightly, allowing her to help him stand.  Dizziness took over upon standing up so quickly and he screwed his eyes shut, “What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?”

“Wouldn’t know, don’t drink really.” she said as wiped her palm on the side of her dress.

Steven scoffed, “Why am I not surprised you don’t?” he smirked.

She frowned and crossed her arms, “What does that means?”

He shook his head, “I see the way you and your posse look at me.  It doesn’t make me feel any worse about myself, ya know?  My mother already does a great job at that,”

He watched her eyes flick to the ground, a telltale sign he had gotten his point across and that he’d probably made himself look even more like a delinquent.  With a sigh he shoved his hands into his pockets, “Don’t you have a group to get back to and gossip with?”

She laughed, “They left me for the dance-floor.”

Steven nodded, “Ah, yes.  Mine as well. . .”

For a moment it was quiet and awkward between the two.  The sound of the deep bass of disco thrummed in the air and she could feel the vibrations in her bell-bottoms.

“Wanna get outta here and smoke some Mary Jane?”

“Are you INSANE?” she shrieked, earning a shushing from Steven.

“No, I’m not, and I think you’d be a little more sane if you smoked some with me.” he smirked, “I see you at school sometimes, you’re way uptight.”

She shook her head, “I don’t really know who you think I am or what I do, but that is not it.”

Steven raised his hands in defense, “I get it, I get it, just thought I’d offer since I have some to share.  Spread the love, y’know?”

“Sure, spread the love.  That’s very kind of you,” she said.

The song ended and she could hear her friends calling her name amongst the crowd.   She turned back to Steven and crossed her arms, “Well, I’m sorry I slammed a door in your face.  I hope your night gets better,” she said quietly.

Steven shoved his hands back into his pockets with a shrug, “Yeah, you too or, whatever.”

- - -

It was 11:00PM and her eyes would not stay shut.  Her brain wouldn’t power down, either.  Sleep seemed to be a distant dream for now.  With a sigh she reached over and turned her lamp back on and opened one of the books by her bed.

Not five minutes later she could hear a faint tapping her bedroom window.  The curtains were pulled over and she was not going to check who it was.  Probably one of the Kelso brothers trying to bother her as they did once in a while.

The tapping stopped for a minute and she settled back under the covers and returned to her book.

Boom boom boom.

“Hey goody-goody, wanna see how my nose looks now?”

She jumped at the voice and set her book down momentarily to sit in surprise.  Was Steven Hyde at her window?

“I don’t have all night, I can see your light is on, too.”

She scrambled out of bed and through a sweatshirt on before drawing the curtains and pulling up the blinds.  There stood Steven Hyde in full-smirk glory, leaning on her windowsill.  She winced at his bruising eye and nose, apologizing once more to him and he merely waved it off, “Makes me look tough.”

She opened the window and placed a hand at her hip, “What are you doing here?  How do you know where I live?” she questioned angrily.

Steven shrugged, “Not that hard to look up an address.  Plus I was bored, couldn’t sleep.  Looks like we’ve got the same issue,” he grinned.

She crossed her arms, “Well I’m not letting you in here, I know what this means.  Kelso’s tried it thousands of times-”

“First off, I’m not Kelso.  Second, you don’t have to let me in.  I’m fine standin’ out here by myself.  And third,” he paused to reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a freshly rolled joint, “Sometimes smoking alone isn’t all that fun.”

“What about that group you’re always with, Eric Forman? Kelso, that foreign kid?  And Donna Pinciotii. . .why don’t you go smoke with them?”

“Already did.”

“Well go do it again,”

“Nah, it was getting boring.  Plus, it’s hard to talk over Jackie Burkhart’s constant whining and her lips all over Kelso’s.”

The girl nodded silently and looked away, “Well I’m not gonna smoke it.”

“Fine, more for me.” he said as he pulled a lighter from his pocket, “D’ya mind?”

She looked behind her and made sure the door was locked before giving him the okay.  He grinned at her approval and brought the lighter up to his face, holding the finely rolled joint between his lips.  

Which she was currently staring at and couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from.

The smell hit her first and she recoiled, “Why does it smell like a skunk?”

Steven laughed and took a drag, “I love it.”

“How could you smoke something that smells like that?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess you just get used to it, you learn to appreciate it the more you smoke.  You can smell the nature in it, y’know?  It’s a flower anyways, it’s got a sort-of earthy smell to it before you light up.”

She laughed, “You really are a stoner like they say,”

“What else do they say?” he asked, leaning closer to her from the windowsill.

She looked away, “A lot of things. . .”

“I’ve got all the time right now, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” she pointed at him, “Besides, none of it’s really nice anyways.”

“You think I care what a bunch of school girls think about me?” he said defensively, “I can assure you I have been called worse.”

“Don’t say that-”

“Why, cause it makes you uncomfortable to hear about how shitty my life is compared to yours?”

“No,” she said firmly, glaring at him.

He scoffed, “Okay, I’ll spare you the sob story then.”

“Why are you here, Steven?”

“Oh god don’t call me that, please.  Just call me Hyde, everyone else does.”

“Alright then, Hyde, why are you here smoking a joint at my window?” she asked as she stepped closer, arms still crossed over her chest.

He took another long drag and looked away for a minute, letting the wind carry the smoke from his lips in beautiful swirls and ripples.  She wondered for a moment if he could blow smoke rings, and how cool that would actually kinda be.

“To tell you the truth I don’t really know, but part of me wants to corrupt that good girl inside of you-”

“Gross, that is so typical!  All boys want is-”

“I’m not Kelso, remember?  And I don’t mean it in that way. . .at least not yet,” he waggled his eyebrows, “I just think you’re an interesting person, is that such a crime?”

She shook her head, “No, it isn’t.”

“Maybe I just wanna show you I’m not the guy your friends think I am.” he said quietly, looking away to take another puff.

For a few more minutes he sucked on his joint while she watched and awkwardly shifted her weight on her legs.  He was making her feel so guilty and she figured it was his intention.  One more time he offered her the joint and she passed, he simply shrugged his shoulders again and finished it.

He bent down to put out the smoking joint and stashed the roach in his pocket, “Don’t worry, I wont leave any evidence that I’ve been here,”

“Well, thank you for the conversation but I should be going to bed.”

Steven rubbed his hands together and smiled, “Alright, I’ll see ya tomorrow at the same time.”

He left before she could question his statement. 

[nialledfromfics]

The Dating Game | Chapter Eleven 

~~

His body felt like blazing fire under her fingertips. His skin, like the sweetest candy on her tongue. His breath, like the freshest ocean air in her lungs. Their sticky-wet bodies moved together, slowly then faster, then slow again, giggles being replaced by salacious moans with every shared soft touch and greedy roll of their hips. It was sensual and intimate and filthy and obscene, endlessly consuming each other until there was barely anything left, until their flesh was raw and scathed and their already strangling breaths were merely depleted. And neither would have traded it for the world. 

Niall had spent every single night at Joey’s apartment the two weeks following their life-changing revelation of feelings; walking Sadie for her in the mornings, queuing shows on her Netflix account that he thought she’d like, using her apple scented shampoo in the shower, and stealing the covers as he slept in her bed. The moment she got home at night, he was there, leaving again sometime after she had gone to work the next morning. She couldn’t keep her hands off of him, or her lips or her body. She didn’t want to. The way he looked at her, the way he smiled at her and touched her and the way he made her moan, it was all like a walking fever-dream that Joey feared would be over as fast as it began. But she tucked that tiny worry in the back of her head, focusing on the light in his blue eyes and the cute dimple that pressed in his cheek the moment he stepped through her front door every evening. 

The dusty gray hue of the rising sun bled past the cloudy sky, filtering through the blinds and into Joey’s bedroom. She was slotted against him, her back arching into his front as Niall lazily fucked into her from behind, his big hand gripping at her hip to keep her steady. Joey faintly moaned, biting harshly into her bottom lip as Niall sucked across the side of her neck. His tongue traced the pulsing vein, and Joey reached back to tangle her fingers into his dark hair, holding his mouth to her skin. By the time Niall had slipped his touch from her hip to between her legs, rubbing slowly at the tiny nub amongst her wet folds, Joey had let herself go, coming hard, and loud, around him. Niall eased himself to his own sweet and satisfying release, deep grunts spilling out across her trembling flesh. 

After catching her breath and Niall sliding himself from her swollen center, Joey brushed away at the hair sticking to her forehead in a sigh. “Every morning should be this good,” she softly mumbled, Niall chuckling as he sprawled out onto his back next to her and used the heels of both palms to rub the sleep from his eyes. 

“Are ya sayin’ it's not?” he teased, pushing an arm up under his head and peering over at her. 

Rolling her eyes, Joey turned her body over on her side to face him. “You know what I mean,” she shot back, tucking her hands between her cheek and the pillow. “It was just exceptionally good this morning.” 

Niall raised a brow and licked over his lips to contain the smirk that attempted to pull at the corner. “You’re welcome, my love.” 

Grabbing around his neck, Joey leaned over to push a kiss to his lips. “Thank you for your service.” 

“Shut up,” he choked out in a laugh, his eyes pinching shut. Smiling at him, Joey tenderly ran her fingernails through the scruffy beard that covered his jaw. Her light brown eyes trailed after her delicate movements. Niall just watched her, his stare swimming over her still flushed face and tangled mess of her red hair that fanned out over her pillow, his mind reeling in how gorgeous she looked like that. He breathed out a smile.  

“We should go out,” Joey then said, dropping her hand to rest on his bare chest as her eyes met his. 

Niall buckled his brows. “Go out?” 

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug of her one shoulder, “like on a date.” 

Turning his head to peer up at the ceiling, Niall took a moment to think as his fingers resting behind his head twisted in his hair. It was then that it dawned on him...she was right. Two weeks gone and they had barely even left her bedroom. He glanced back over at her. “You made me realize that I am a fuckin’ dickhead and haven’t taken ya out on a proper date yet,” he admitted, a slight look of remorse settling on his face.

Joey breathed out a tiny smile and rubbed her palm over his chest. “Babe, it's fine,” she assured him, “besides...it's kinda hard to go out on a date when you’re literally inside me 24/7…”

“Fair enough,” he snorted, “but ya know, we could not do that thing for at least a few hours and do the proper goin’ out on a date thing instead.” 

She heartily chuckled, her nose scrunching up as she pushed the side of her face into the pillow. “But I really like that thing...,” she started as she peeked back over at him, “but to be honest, I was kinda wondering when you were gonna ask me…”

“Ask ya out on a date?” 

“Yeah, well, I mean…” Joey paused and flicked her stare over to her window. She pulled in a low breath. “We are dating, right? I mean...I know we haven’t, like, defined anything or whatever, but–”

Joey’s words cut short as she felt the heat of Niall’s hand slide under the covers to rest on her thigh. His thumb rubbed small circles into her skin and her gaze caught his once more. “Yeah, petal,” he said softly, “we’re datin’.”

She sheepishly bit down at her lip and slipped her hand from Niall’s chest to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Okay...so we’re dating,” she said. Niall couldn’t help but smile at her reaction as she looked back over at him. “But we’ve never actually gone out on a date.” 

“You make a good point, darlin’,” he agreed, nodding his head. She laughed. “Perhaps, we should fix that then?” 

“Perhaps…” 

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Jo, will you do me the honor of goin’ on a date with me?” 

“That depends,” Joey lifted her brows, “are you ready for us to be seen together?” 

“What?” 

“It’s only been two weeks since you broke up with Lila…” Joey reminded him.

Niall rolled his eyes in a low huff. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, I told ya, she didn’t matter.” 

“I know, but…” Joey paused, and pulled in a deep breath, “but people might not look at it like that since everyone knew you were together. And it was different for us before when we were just friends, but seeing us now? They don’t know that it wasn’t real between you guys.” 

His blue eyes darted over her face and Niall slipped his hand from her thigh under the covers to gently sweep his knuckles over her cheek. “Listen,” he told her, his voice soft, “ya can’t worry ‘bout what any of those people say, the media, the fans, they’re all gonna talk shit no matter what the truth is. Ya can’t pay any mind to it.” Joey nodded quietly as she chewed at her bottom lip. “It’s a double edged sword, ya know? You wanna be private and keep it all to yourself but also ya wanna live your life and shout it from the rooftops. Ya gotta find a balance and that can be hard sometimes.” 

Joey fell quiet for a second, her eyes glazing over as thoughts swirled around in her head. Thoughts of him, with Lila. Ones that she would have assumed would never creep into her mind again now that they were together. “A few weeks ago, I saw the pictures of you and Lila,” she began, catching his stare. “Walking down the street, holding hands...kissing.” 

Niall inhaled sharply and tucked his lips into his mouth. He knew exactly what she was referring to, and he instantly felt terrible. That was definitely not something he had wanted her to see. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. 

“No, it’s fine,” she insisted, shaking her head, “I-...well, at the time I wanted to throw up, and I’m pretty sure I was two seconds away from breaking my phone in half,” Niall chuckled as she went on, “but…” Joey shrugged.

Rolling over on his side to face her, Niall reached out and carefully slid his finger along her neck, untucking some of her red hair that was clamped in between her cheek and her shoulder. His hand dragged down to rest at the curve of her waist as his eyes drifted over hers. “Can I be honest with ya?” he then said, Joey nodding in response. “Her agent kinda set that up.” 

“What?” she said, her eyes going big. 

“I wasn’t very keen on it,” Niall explained, the side of his face scrunching up, “it’s not somethin’ I normally do, ya know, like the pap walk type of things. But...they thought it would be good for her image, brand or whatever and...she asked me to do it and...well, I did.” 

“Wow,” Joey breathed out, moving her eyes down to his chest. She let her finger gently twirl into the dark hairs. “So…you’re a whore.” 

She shot her eyes up to his, unable to hold back her smile as Niall burst into a laugh, his arm wrapping around her naked torso and pulling her closer into him. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, Joey’s giggles being quieted by the press of his mouth on hers. 

“Just know,” he went on after easing his lips away, “that I’d never have to pretend that shit with you...ever.” 

Her fingers carded through the front of his hair. “I know,” she whispered, smiling as she swept some strands off to the side. “So, what’s your plans for our big date?” 

“Jesus, I dunno,” Niall shrugged, “gotta think about it.” 

Joey slipped her fingertip along his jaw. “Okay…” she said sweetly, meeting his heavy lidded stare, “well, can you think about it while you fuck me again?” 

He smirked at her insatiblity, his touch dipping down to her backside making Joey’s eyes flutter. “Not sure I’ll do much thinkin’ about that while I’m fuckin’ you…” he told her as he brushed the tip of his nose to hers, drawing her back into a kiss.

•

Trying to get Niall to give Joey even the tiniest of a hint about their big first date was like pulling teeth. He was not budging, not in the slightest. He remained tight-lipped the entire rest of the week, smiling at Joey when she would try to tease it out of him with sexual favors or pretend like she was angry. Niall thought her stomping feet and crossed arms were too cute, but not cute enough to give in. He wanted their first date to be something she would remember forever, that they could remember forever together. He wanted it to be beyond special and an experience beyond her wildest imaginations.

Niall wasn’t always a stellar planner when it came to things like that. Big dates and such, if he was being honest with himself, it never really was something he put too much thought into. A football match or just some drinks at a local pub seemed to do well enough for him. And maybe it had to do with the fact that he hadn’t found someone that sparked that in him, that made him want to go all out and splurge and take the time to really make it a night they wouldn’t forget. Not until he met Joey, anyway. 

He had enlisted the help of his PA and his best mate, Chris, to help with the planning. Niall knew exactly what he wanted to do, but keeping up with all the tasks to actually get it done in merely a week's time, was more consuming than he had thought it was going to be. So his friends happily stepped in to take some of the load off. Besides Niall running into the studio to do last minute touches on the album and slipping into meetings to deal with the marketing aspect of its upcoming release, he was busy using his networks to pull as many strings as he could for their unforgettable night. As the days flew by, the date night fast approaching, he was getting more and more anxious. He wanted it to go off without a hitch, and apart from Joey’s constant adorable curiosity over the matter, the execution was coming along flawlessly.  

The night before, Niall gave into one little hint, one that he thought would be useful anyway, and told her that she needed to dress nicely. Joey shot him a look; buckled brows and a huffed eye roll that quickly sent him the message that she had no other intention besides dressing nicely for their date in the first place. He laughed it off. But Joey was absolutely reeling underneath her nonchalant attitude. She was giddy with excitement, and wholeheartedly intrigued by all of his well intentioned secrecy and sneaking around, and she could not wait until the night of their date arrived. 

Niall contemplated blind folding Joey for the duration of the car ride to their destination just to enhance the surprise aspect, but then he figured that might be a bit too much. And could have very well freaked her out more than it would have left her curious and excited, at least in that kind of situation. So he did the next best thing; he hired a driver and sat with Joey in the backseat of the SUV, capturing her full attention for the entire hour and a half drive. Upon telling Joey his not-well-thought out plan of the blindfold, she doubled over in giggles, telling him it wouldn’t have been necessary in the first place. 

“Oh yeah? Don’t give a shit about our date anymore, is that it?” Niall teased her, licking over his lips as his fingers caressed hers that sat linked together on top of her crossed thigh. 

Joey raised a brow and gave him a smirk. “Not at all. I’m just more interested in staring at you than whatever is outside those windows.”

Niall took her compliment in stride, just a small amount of blush folding over her cheeks as he bowed his head a little. Joey loved to see him react that way to her, to know that she could still make the red pulse to his cheeks with just a few words. Peering back over at her, he met her gaze for a moment before letting his blue eyes slide down her frame. He couldn't even pretend that she wasn’t the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on, he knew it and he told her nearly every day, but looking at her sitting next to him; body hugging red dress, matched with a red lipstick and her hair cascading over her bared shoulders in tight waves, it was unbelievable. She was perfect, she was real and smart and beautiful and Niall couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Picking up her hand, Joey eased her light brown eyes from the glow of the radio screen over to Niall just as he placed a soft kiss to the bend of her knuckles. 

“You’re too much,” she gently chided, Niall smiling against her skin. 

Placing their hands back to their spot on her lap, he cocked his head slightly. “And you’re incredible.” 

Joey glanced down at Niall’s own attire; crisp black trousers, a maroon button up shirt that was left a little open (at Joey’s request), and a simple fitted dinner jacket. His dark hair was styled loosely and easy–Niall knowing that’s how she liked it–just swept over to the side, with his beard grown in just a step past stubble and it was safe to say, he looked like a million bucks. And she couldn’t believe he was all hers. “So are you, baby.” 

“How long is the drive anyway?” Joey quickly added, wrinkling her brow as she peeked around.

Niall brought her attention back to him. “Don’t worry, love,” he assured her, checking the time on his watch, “we’ll be there soon.” 

He wasn’t wrong. It was only about another thirty minutes before the car had pulled off the main road onto a smaller back road. Joey was a bit perplexed as to where exactly they were going and what Niall had planned, but she agreed to go with the flow and regardless of her curiosities, she trusted him. The sun had just begun to set by the time the car had finally come to a stop, Niall making Joey cover her eyes with her hands the last few minutes of the drive down the bumpy road. Hopping out of the car and over to her side to help her out, Niall grabbed Joey’s hand in his, encouraging her to keep her eyes closed for just another minute until he was able to lead her right to where he wanted her to be. The ground felt a bit squishy under her heels, like she was standing on pads of grass and dirt but the air swirling around her was cool and boasted a fragrance that sunk into her lungs like an old familiar scent. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet and she was already bursting with nerves and a flurry of excitement. 

Niall slipped behind her, standing close enough that his front was touching her back and his mouth sat right at her ear. Joey reached her hands back, searching for his and Niall smiled as he entangled his fingers with hers. She was trembling, Niall felt it against his palms, against his body and a soft grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in closer to her. 

Joey held her breath; Niall’s warmth encompassed her and seeped out onto the side of her neck and her heart pounded in her chest. She bit down on her bottom lip as Niall inhaled sharply. “Open your eyes, darlin’,” he whispered. 

Squeezing her fingers around Niall’s, Joey slowly expelled air between rounded lips as she opened her eyes. The sight was breathtaking. Miles of orange and green with intricate pops of purple scattered throughout the endless fields of wildflowers. The golden sunset was beaming down across the tops of the brightly colored petals in the distance, the light breeze swaying and twisting, reminiscent of a surge in the ocean’s tide. Her brown eyes wide with wonderment, her red lips parted in silent awe and Niall tipped his head to the side to watch the expression gleam on her face. 

“I have never seen anything like this before,” she mumbled, her stare swimming over the waves of poppy and lavender that reached all the way to her toes. “It’s so beautiful. This is...absolutely extraordinary, Niall.” 

His heavy-lidded eyes stayed on her. “It is.” 

Shifting her head to the right to catch his stare, her red hair slipped over her shoulder and down across her chest and Niall tenderly uncurled his fingers from her one hand to cradle around her face, easing the young woman into a kiss. “This is just the beginning,” he breathed out as his lips left hers. 

“You’re kidding?” 

“Did ya think I was just gonna bring ya to a field of flowers for our date?” he replied with a furrow of his brow.

Joey laughed and gave him a slight shrug. “I never know with you.” 

“Fair enough,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head, “but how ‘bout ya look all the way over to your left and tell me what ya see.” 

Her hazelnut eyes grew big and Joey turned her face all the way to the other side, a low gasp spilling past her lips. Just beyond a sparse line of trees, a bit off into the distance and right at the edge of another wildflower field, sat a round dining table, complete with chilled wine and tapered candles and dressed in the finest linens. There was a small tent off to the side of that, Joey could see a few people busily moving back and forth inside, that had strings of lights connected from the tiered top to the branches of the trees overhead. It was stunning. 

She smiled big over at Niall, and he felt the flush fill his cheeks as he carefully ran his fingers up through his hair just as Joey grabbed his hand to pull him along with her as they walked towards the table. “Holy shit,” she muttered under her breath as they sat down across from one another, a hired waiter already there to pour their wine, “this is...crazy, Niall!” 

Niall pushed out a short laugh, his mouth turned down at the corners as he placed his napkin in his lap. “Only the best for you, babe,” he said to her. 

Thanking the waiter as he walked away, Joey picked up her wine glass, Niall following suit and they clinked them together before taking a sip. “But tell me, what would you have done had it rained?” she asked him, biting off her smile. 

Niall leaned forward and laid his crossed arms along the edge of the table. “Absolutely no fuckin’ idea,” he snorted, not missing a beat. 

Her head tossed back in a cackle. Niall kept his blue eyes on her, watching her nose cutely scrunch up as the sweet sound of her laugh eased over his ears. Fuck, this girl had his whole heart. “Guess you just lucked out then…” she commented, taking another sip of her wine to settle herself. 

He smiled. “Guess I did.” 

Dinner went on without a single hitch; catered by one of Niall’s friends and most trusted chef to the stars and the most diligent and kind wait staff Joey had ever seen. The two laughed and talked, made soft eyes and played with fingertips across the table as they drank nearly a whole bottle of red wine. The night sky had darkened considerably by that time, the stars blinking above them and the moon casting a shimmery glow upon their skin. It was so romantic, the most romantic date Joey had probably ever experienced, being out there with a handsome man, amongst a field of beautiful wildflowers and tasting the deliciousness of the expertly prepared food and wine. 

She was not a loss for sweet smiles or breathy giggles, or the rosiness that invaded her cheeks every time Niall locked eyes with her and Joey sat back in her chair in a low sigh as she tipped her glass up, emptying the rest of her wine past her lips. “This night has been...something else, Niall,” she told him, setting her glass back onto the table. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Leaning forward a bit, Niall rested his elbows on the table. “Night isn’t over yet, babe, got one more surprise for ya,” he casually mentioned. “Think you’re ready for it?”

Joey peered at him, eyes narrowing. “I dunno what else you could do to surprise me tonight,” she said, lightly laughing him off, “but sure, lay it on me.” 

“Love to lay it on ya real good, but time and place, sweetheart,” Niall spit back, cocking his brow. Joey rolled her eyes at his lame attempt at a dirty joke and he chuckled. “Just fuckin’ with ya. I’m a bit nervous, sorry.” 

Joey shook her head lightly, chewing at her bottom lip. “Why would you be nervous?”

“How ‘bout ya turn around and see, yeah?” he then said, giving a nod as he flicked his eyes behind her. Joey furrowed her brow slightly in confusion and slowly twisted her upper body around in her chair, her eyes sliding through the darkness of the night as they landed on the caterers tent behind her. It wasn’t but another few seconds before the white drapes parted slightly and Joey’s mouth fell open. Her stare went big, bigger than they had all night and she watched with a stampeding in her heart as her most favorite band in the entire world, the Wildflowers, stepped out from the dark and into the glow of the fairy lights strung above. 

Joey couldn’t even breathe, and she clamped her hands over her mouth in a squeal, her eyes as wide as saucers and stuck to the band as they pulled out their instruments and began to play a private acoustic set, just for her. Glancing over at Niall, she nearly had tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Oh my-...oh my God, are you fucking for real?” she said to him, her voice hardly carrying over the sound of the music. “Niall!” 

But he just sat there, his gaze fixated on Joey, watching and relishing in her joy and excitement. Seeing her face light up, the smile spreading wider across her lips and happy noises exuding from her as she bounced like an overjoyed child on Christmas morning. The band had started to sing; a pre-approved setlist that Niall had written up from all Joey’s favorite songs that she had mentioned to him over the months of knowing her. And he just slumped back in his chair, a contented smile on his face and his stare never leaving her. She swayed slightly in her seat as she listened and watched, and after the band had moved onto the second song, a bit of a slower one, Niall finally got the courage to lean towards Joey and ask her something. “Would you like to dance?” he spoke up, Joey most definitely hearing him over the calm, soothing melody of the song and she peeked over at him. He had such a softness in his face that it made a warmth ooze over her entire body. He shrugged. “I’m not much of a dancer, pretty shit to be fair, but I’ll give it a go.” 

Reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear, Joey smiled in a slight blush. “Yes, I’d love to dance with you.” 

Niall stood up from the table, placing his napkin that was in his lap near his empty wine glass and stepped over to Joey. She glanced up at him as he held out his palm to her, and she struggled to pull in a decent breath, slipping her hand in his. He helped her up as she carefully laid her napkin in her chair and let him lead them both a bit out from the table in front of the band. 

His large hands wrapped around the small of her waist, and Joey hooked her arms over his shoulders, her fingers mindlessly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as they swayed back and forth. “You’ve outdone yourself, Niall James,” she told him, biting at her lip. 

He smirked. “Oh yeah? Where do I fall on that checklist now?”

“Still keeping score, huh?” she teased.

“Naturally.” 

They smiled at each other, cheeks blushing pink before Joey braved an answer. “No competition,” she said honestly, slinking her hands around his neck to pull him into a gentle kiss. “Best first date I’ve ever been on...actually the best date I’ve ever been on.” She paused in a laugh. “To be honest, I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to top it.”

Niall cocked his head back and peered down at her through narrowed eyes. “Who says I’m takin’ ya out again?” 

There was a playful smirk tugging at his lips and Joey gasped, dropping her jaw. “So what, you were just gonna wine me and dine me–”

“Definitely sixty-nine ya…”

Joey threw her head back in a vivacious laugh, one that could have stolen the show had the music not been so loud. Her face came back down, with her red hair slinging over her one shoulder. Rolling her eyes at him, she sucked in a breath. “I guess I’m okay with that.” 

Niall chuckled softly and pushed a kiss to her lips. His arms clamped around her body as their lips slipped away, Joey tucking herself down against him as he held her tight. With her cheek resting at the front of his shoulder, eyes glued to the band singing before them, Niall tenderly kissed the top of her head. “This is only the beginnin’, my love,” he whispered, hoping she would hear, “we got so much more to come, me and you.” 

Joey smiled at his words and slipped her arms under his, hooking her hands at his upper back. She held him securely, so close that she could no longer tell her heartbeat from his and her eyes eased closed as they moved back and forth to the beautifully melodic sound of the music.

[buckleyy--diazz]

Niall/Reader NSFW (Kinda, this is soft)

This was originally posted on 'Irishprinceniall', I am reposting here because I deleted this blog. Enjoy 1.5k of Niall being a tease. (For the people who also read my Narry fics, don't @ me, I know I ended one of my Narry fic the exact same way a while ago...oops!)

°•°•°•°

You had a very long day, a good friend moved in her new house and you had spent a few hours helping her clean everything, so she could finally install her new furniture. The night before you had barely slept and after spending hours cleaning the inside of cabinets you were finally home. All you wanted was food, a hot bath and cuddling with your boyfriend. You texted Niall asking if he was done in the studio and asked him if he could bring back your fave pizza on his way back. As you waited for him you prepared yourself a nice relaxing bath. You opened Spotify to find your relaxing bath playlist, lit up some candles and dropped one of your favourite bath bombs in the water. 

The water felt nice and your muscles were thanking you for finally giving them a rest. You were almost asleep when you heard Niall coming home. Slowly you rose from the bath, dried yourself and put on a tank top and one of Niall's old pairs of joggers. They were soft and Niall loved you in his clothes, even ratty joggers. You decided to let you hair in the messy bun you had done to take your bath and made your way downstairs to join Nial in the living room. You knew he would be there since you rarely used the dining room unless you had guests over. You slouched next to him on the couch, and pressed a sweet kiss to his scruffy cheek you liked so much. 

"I missed you," you murmured against his cheek before grabbing a slice of pizza. 

You took a bite of pizza and moaned, not realising how hungry you were before. Niall looked at you and smirked. You rolled your eyes and took another bite, moaning exaggeratedly loud this time. 

"Do you need some alone time with your pizza, babe? Do you want me to leave?" asked Niall, laughing at his own joke.

"Would you mind if I said yes?" you replied and Niall poked your thigh with his finger.

"I love you."

"I love you too," you said, keeping your eyes on the pizza, then you looked up at Niall, trying not to laugh you added, "oh you were talking to me."

"You're a little shit, you know that?" he asked and you nodded, trying to look serious but failing miserably when a grin appeared on your lips. You turned your head to the side and kissed Niall's cheek again. 

"Don't be jealous, you know I love you almost as much as I love pizza," you laughed when Niall pouted.

"I'll remember that."

You laughed and spent the rest of the dinner talking about your respective day and Niall told you his second album was officially finished and he would be free all summer. You were so happy about it. It never bothered you Niall had to travel a lot, you knew exactly what you were doing when you got into a relationship with him but the idea of having more than just a few days together was making you very happy.

Once you finished your pizza, you took the leftovers back in the kitchen while Niall was finding something to watch on Netflix. When you came back to the living room you smiled when you saw Niall had chosen John Wick, it was one of your favourites, and he was ready to press play. Niall opened his arms for you to join him on the couch. You lay next to him and he closed his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight against his chest. Your head was pillowed against his shoulder and your hand made its way under his t-shirt, tracing slow circles on his tummy and playing with his chest hair. 

It felt so great to be in Niall's arms and you slowly felt sleep creeping on you when Niall untied your hair to play with it for about thirty minutes into the movie. You loved having your hair played with but it always made you fall asleep fast. Niall noticed and he paused the movie.a

"C'mon, let's get you to bed love, we can finish the movie tomorrow if you want."

You nodded and let Niall help you get on your feet. Not letting go of your hand he lead you to your bedroom. Niall fluffed your pillow and helped you out of your sweatpants. You smiled sleepily, Niall was such an attentive boyfriend, you really didn't know how you had gotten so lucky. You took your place on the bed and watched Niall get undressed and made grabby hands toward him, making him chuckle. Niall climbed on the bed and he took you in his arms like he had done on the couch. His strong arms around you and your legs intertwined. You closed your eyes and sighed loudly. You felt so safe in Niall's arms, there was nowhere you liked to be most. Niall pressed a kiss to the side of your head and you giggled when his beard scratched your skin.

"I love you," he whispered directly against your ear, "I love you so so much. You make me happy," he kept whispering, his hand drawing circles on your back, "I don't think you know how happy you make me."

"I am so lucky to have you. You're so sweet and intelligent and pretty fit too" Niall added, "I've wanted you the first time I saw you, you're the one. I will always love you."

You loved when Niall was doing this, just whispering sweet things, sometimes he was singing until you fell asleep or if you were particularly stressed he would just remind you all the reasons why you didn't have to be. Always finding the right words to encourage you. Niall kept murmuring in your ear, his beard lightly scratching your cheek and you shivered. 

"You like that, don't you? My beard against your skin, against your neck and your chest when I kiss my way down," Niall whispered and it sent another shiver down your spine.

This had rapidly taken a turn you were not expecting at all but you nodded. 

"You like it against your stomach and on your thighs, between your thighs when I press kisses all over them." 

You swallowed thickly and rubbed your thighs together, a move Niall didn't miss. 

"You like this? You like it when I tell you everything I would do to you? I bet you're getting wet right now," he said and a small moan escaped your throat. You were definitely getting wet and feeling less and less sleepy. You wanted to turn your head and kiss Niall or push him on his back and have your way with him, riding him until your thighs burned but you also wanted him to keep whispering so you stayed still.

"If I slipped my fingers inside your underwear I'm sure I could easily push them inside of you, could I?" Niall asked and you nodded again. 

Niall had barely said anything but your breath was getting shallower and your clit was aching between your legs and you tried to rub them together again but Niall was faster than you and stop your leg by putting his hand on your thigh.  

"Maybe I should do just that. I don't know if you deserve it. You did say that you loved pizza more than me," he laughed.

"Please Niall," you begged because it was getting too much. You needed him now. You needed him to touch you.

"Please what?"

"Touch me," you replied, opening your legs wide, "I need it. Please." 

You tried to turn around in his arms, trying to rub yourself against his thigh but again Niall kept you still with his hand. 

"Not yet love, but I can keep telling you how much I want you," said Niall, rolling his hips against you, making you feel how hard he was already. "I want to taste you, I love the way you taste and all the sounds you make when you sit on my face." Niall let his fingers trailed up your thighs and you moaned again. 

"Or maybe I could pin your wrists above your head and fuck you until your begging me to let you come. So many possibilities, what do you think baby?"

"Please," you whined, "I need it, please."

Niall sighed and kissed your cheek. 

"You said you were tired babe. You had a long day, we should sleep and we can do that in the morning," Niall said.

You let out a frustrated sigh and pouted. 

"Don't pout baby, I know you enjoy this as much as me," Niall replied and you tried to glare at him but he only smirked in response. Niall was right, you did enjoy when he was working you up like that, edging you until you couldn't take it anymore, your orgasms were always more powerful. 

"Oh and don't try to slip your hand down your panties once I fall asleep because I will know if you do and then I'll have to punish you. Do you understand me?"

You nodded and closed your eyes waiting for Niall to close his eyes and fall asleep. It only took a few minutes and as soon as his breathing evened out you slipped you hand down your panties, already feeling the skin of your ass tingling with the promise of a good spanking.

[marvelous-avengers]

In Bloom - 4

summary: Bucky’s got some scars in more places than he cares to admit, and thinks some art is the key to helping him recover. What he doesn’t expect is for a certain tattoo artist to settle his soul. Modern AU with tattoo artist!reader

pairing: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

warnings: angst, talks of depression, therapy and recovery, slow burn lovin, some fluffy fluff and heart skipping, a surprise guest

a/n: it takes me forever and a day to update anything and for that i am sorry. so much has happened lately and life is a mess lol. this really is kinda a filler chapter and im not %100 okay with it but i wanted to get it out. i may or may not delete it, but we’ll see. also what the fuck why did staff get rid of line breaks???

---

It’s a week when Bucky’s phone pings! with an email. 

His heart skips a beat as he reaches for it on the kitchen table, fingers twitching as they pause over the device. 

The notification stares at him dead in the face, taunting him with your name. He bites his bottom lip, his other hand fisting on his knee. Anxiety floods his veins faster than a bolt of lightning, thoughts even faster. He feels his heartbeat start to accelerate and takes a deep breath.

In and out. In and out. 

His thumb hovers over the white notification on his home screen.

In.

He presses it.

And out.

He slides his thumb to the right and the screen goes white before the email opens up. 

He smiles, a warm feeling overtaking the anxiety running through his veins.

Hi Bucky!

It was great meeting you last week. After sitting down with you I couldn’t seem to get your idea out of my head. So I took the liberty of creating a few designs for you, which I have attached here. I’m really excited for this piece. Let me know what you think and we can go from there!

Y/N

True to her word, there are three attachments with the email. He clicks on the first one which shows a beautiful arrangement of flowers, some he mentioned and others that simply complimented the piece. He goes to the next one and then the next, heart lighter as he examines each. Roses, lilies, peonies, marigolds, a big and bright sunflower, and some baby’s breath, all equally delicate and beautiful. 

“Holy shit.”

“Shit.”

Bucky nearly jumps out of his chair and turns to see a little girl with dark brown hair peeking at him from the hallway.

He gives her a look, and she only giggles. “Morgan, you know it’s not nice to scare me,” he chides softly, reaching out his arm towards her. She walks forward and grabs his hand and he hoists her up into his lap, placing his phone down.

She gives a kiss to his scruffy chin and settles into his lap, head resting against his chest. “I’m sorry, Uncle Bee.”

He moves the hair out of her face and she beams up at him, brown eyes sparkling. “It’s okay. But no bad words, okay? Mom and dad don’t like bad words.”

“But mom and dad say it all the time,” she counters, face pouting in confusion. “Daddy says shit is mommy’s word.”

“That’s right,” he nods, “so only your mommy gets to say it. Okay?”

She sighs, a little exasperated and into his chest. “Okay.” Her big brown eyes flicker to the table where his phone rests, picture still lit up, and she points and asks, “What’s that?”

He smiles lightly and picks up his phone to show her. “They’re drawings. Do you like them?” She nods, taking his phone in her hands and flipping back and forth between the images. He leans his cheek against the top of her head, settling his arms around her. “Yeah, I do too.”

When Bucky first arrived back home from the army, on top of everything else that he was already going through, he had the struggle of finding a job. After a few failed interviews over the course of a few hard weeks, Bucky’s downward spiral had only gotten worse. Not everyone wants to hire a retired veteran with a heavy heart and a heavier mind. 

However, after phoning a friend and setting up an interview, Steve found Bucky the perfect opportunity. 

Tony Stark, owner and CEO of Stark Industries, the most advanced tech company there is, was able to find a position for Bucky that worked with his schedule. Bucky was detailed and organized, with an eye for precision that made him perfect for handling complicated budgets and some light programming. Pepper Potts, Tony’s wife and CFO, handles all of his paperwork and triple checks his work, which is always up to standards. He was part time, could work from the safety and privacy of his apartment and had full benefits. And on occasion, he’ll watch their wonderful five-year-old Morgan. 

“Did you draw these?” she asks now, pressing something on the screen and the image goes away. She pouts and Bucky chuckles, taking the phone from her and placing it back on the table. 

“No, my friend Y/N did,” he says with an ease that surprises him. But then again, calling Y/N his friend was a lot easier than explaining to a five-year-old that his tattoo artist drew them. Or is he just saying that to combat his nerves? “She’s going to draw it on my arm, make it really pretty.”

Morgan purses her lips and tilts her head before grabbing at his hand, holding onto his fingers. “You’re already pretty, Uncle Bee.”

Bucky feels his heart grow and fill his chest, removing any trace of sadness or anxiety that may have been present. “Thank you, angel.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, wrapping the arm that she’s leaning against around her in a hug and she just smiles at him. Before he can get too emotional, he decides to switch the subject after placing another kiss atop her head. “What do you want for dinner? How do raviolis sound?”

She practically jumps in his lap. “Yummy. With sauce?” She wraps her arms around his neck and Bucky hoists her up as he gets up from his seat, heading towards the kitchen, phone abandoned on the table. 

“Of course, angel.”

After dinner and a showing of 101 Dalmatians, Morgan is fast asleep on the couch. Bucky lets the movie play again just in case she wakes up, and grabs his computer from the coffee table. He opens it up to your email and the designs that you have drawn for him, eyeing the words typed across his screen.

I’m really excited for this piece.

The smile on his face is small, a flicker of...something in his heart.

---

tags:

@buckyhalf @softlybarnes @sgtjbuccky @barnesrogersvstheworld @sweetboybucky @captainrogerss @buckyywiththegoodhair @delos-mio @kentuckybarnes @evanstar @evanstarff

@bitchingwintersoldier @theunicornotaku@beansstan @aveatquevale-@faithfullpanicmoon @aljadams369 @callmedaddys-blog @dontneedbiologytoadopt

[flightofaqrow]

‘getting to know you’ game

qrow x Lifa Hakon [incomplete]

Lifa looked around the room, before she inched over to her bunk and grabbed her rucksack from under it. “We could go, if you’re willing to hike for a bit and be ready for a scrap if there’s Grimm or wolves. Or bears. Or really, really angry owls. It’s worth the trip and it’s the perfect time of day to start the journey! It’ll be dark by the time we get to the lake and that’s the best time to be there.”

“i asked for adventure, didn’t i?” qrow opens his arms wide and excited. this could all go terribly, terribly wrong for him at any time, and probably will. it always does. but for once, he thinks just maybe it might be fun enough to be worth it.

just for one damn night let him not ruin it.

...

“Do you know this game? The goal is to trap the fox where it can’t escape or eat one of the birds. If there’s no space behind a bird, it can’t be eaten but if there is, the fox can jump over and gobble it up. I’ll play the fox?”

“…so better for the birds to work in pairs.” a universal truth in qrow’s life, “s’this mean i get t’call ya a fox now, since you said it first?”

“You can, but I’ll be calling you Scare-Qrow if you do.”

Lifa takes a sign of bad luck and changes it to something a bit silly, that hangs out in an open field, and is meant to protect… “kinda like that one actually.”

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“this is your dorm and i just came in and ruined everything, didn’t i?”

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Lifa stared at the scattered papers and folders that she had organized in a filing system all her own, now in chaos on the floor after a lanky fellow student burst inside and collided with her just as she was going to leave. Her fingers twitched in despair and irritation, before she slowly took a deep breath, turned to face Qrow and grabbed a fistful of his vest. Not violently, not too hard. Just enough to firmly get his attention. “I’ll hide you from whatever it is but you are helping me clean this up. Understood?”

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qrow ruins everything. he does. of course it’s just his luck he picks the room of the pretty girl from the roof to try and duck into.

and that there would be some sort of elaborate shelving unit that definitely didn’t seem standard. and that his awesome cape would get caught on the stupid doorknob, and send his gangly limbs flying into said shelves. and she’d be standing right there.

is it really so bad when he already gets to see her, faces nearly touching, yanking at his clothing…? ah, well. yeah. it is. when all her hard work is in chaos on the floor and he still looks a damn fool.

he faces away, ready for a scolding, ready to be passed off to Raven and the teacher she alerted. but none of it comes. seriously?

qrow nods in agreement. he’d be shuffling some papers together already if he weren’t, uh, otherwise restrained. “man, i knew you were cool.”

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“Damned right I’m cool!”

Lifa has lifted him ever so slightly off of his toes before she let him go, realizing she might be a little overzealous. Despite the circumstances, she was glad to see the nice boy from the roof again, even if he was going to see her messy desk…Oh, shit. Family pictures.

Lifa quickly gathered up some papers and threw them onto the desk, taking the moment to snap the frame face down before he got a glimpse of her and her father in full regalia, posing for her fifteenth birthday. All around it were tiny tools, clockwork parts, scraps of metal…

The papers were blueprints, for weapon and armor designs but also a few charcoal sketches of woodland scenes, marked with lines of simplistic colored pencil to represent the presence of evergreen needles and a broad frozen like and a crumbling cabin. Lifa turned to face the mess once more, tightening her jaw. “Ugh, they’re all out of order…what did you do that’s got you on the run, anyway? Hide a toad in someone’s boot?”

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qrow knows she’s hiding something. they’ve all done that frantic scatter at some point when suddenly intrude upon. however, he thinks little of it, lumping similar ultimately unimportant reasons in with those same memories. not that he isn’t curious, of course. but he’s not one to press when she’s already doing him a kindness.

not to mention, what he can see is fascinating enough in itself. landscapes… weapon and gadget ideas… not bad ones, either. the roughness of her hands make more sense if she’s a tinkerer on top of a fighter. really cool.

“heh. somethin’ like that. switched my sister’s tea with some of the weird grasses outside. but forget that. …is all this stuff for real?” he holds up some of the drawings he’s gathered, and points to one of the frozen forests in particular, “i mean, can we go here? is this what ya were talkin’ about last time?”

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“I’m going to wager a guess that you are the younger brother,” Lifa mused, since that sounded like something Runi would absolutely do, with perhaps a more devious twist. As she laid things out to survey and put them back in their place, she smiled softly. It took the edge off the need to laugh.

She glanced back at him, in the middle of lining two see through papers together so one layer of armor completed the other. A method that helped her better plan how to complete the final result. “You mean the lake?” She asked, rubbing the soft paper between her fingers and enjoying the pleasant smell of it and fresh ink. “I mean, yes. The lake is real but the plans are all theoretical, or at least all except the shield. I made that for the Vytal fight…it’s north east of the city, if you really want to go but it’s not exactly a stroll in the park to get there.”

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“by two minutes that she constantly holds over my head,” he says with equal amounts annoyance and affection. he crawls around on the floor, looking for anything that my have snuck beneath furniture while she starts arranging things back in proper order. it takes a second a second for it to click, but he got there. “…you got one too, then?”

stragglers collected, he stands next to her and looks over her work. it’s all very clever. he can see the thought process and enhancements. “okay, Lifa, you got me. i’m impressed.” he crosses arms over his chest and grins, as if he had any authority to be appraising. “most of the students stop after building their own weapon. this is certainly next level.” meaning, it looked like she enjoyed further improving her own equipment, and designing even beyond that. for other people too perhaps?

he shrugs, drums his fingers on his arms, “s’too bad about the lake, then. anythin’ interesting within reach? i do need to avoid Raven for awhile…”

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“A brother? Yes,” Lifa ran her fingers along one frame that she pushed over and lifted it upright again, since it had nothing incriminating to reveal. She missed the northern lights and smells of her home, but couldn’t not miss anything more than her family and her scruffy haired know-it-all little brother.A boy not more than ten, with lots of tawny brown messy hair seated in a wheel chair and seeming like he was about to lob the wrench in his hand at her. “His name is Runi. He’s ten.” Impressed? Suspicion lurked in her eyes but she had to remember he didn’t know who she was. Any respect he had, she had earned it by her own merit. She moved a lock of hair behind her ear, since most of the red locks were piled in a hastily woven bun at the back of her head out of her eyes so she could work. “Thank you, that’s– that means a lot…My brother and I’ve always made these sorts of things together. He’s the brain, I’m the hands.” Lifa looked around the room, before she inched over to her bunk and grabbed her rucksack from under it. “Don’t be disappointed, we could go, if you’re willing to hike for a bit and be ready for a scrap if there’s Grimm or wolves. Or bears. Or really, really angry owls. It’s worth the trip and it’s the perfect time of day to start the journey! It’ll be dark by the time we get to the lake and that’s the best time to be there.”

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one tidbit more of personal information reveals itself, then. her brother has wings of beautiful feathers, even if his body doesn’t seem like it can make very good use of them. that makes Lifa half faunus. which changes absolutely nothing of qrow’s opinion, but is interesting to know.

“heh, that makes sense. i remember your hands,” qrow winks, waits just a beat. “Runi looks just s’cool as you,” now he’s intentionally laying it on thick, but the undertone of appreciation for family weaves into the flattery anyway. he’d die for Raven, kill for Raven, almost and has, respectively, and he trusts the same from her. they acquired their weapons separately, but have gone through many a process side by side. he can’t imagine ever not having her there. he opens his mouth to ask if it’s hard for her to be here without him, but stops, and only nods in acknowledgement. maybe that’s too personal. maybe he’s wrong when she’s moved on from the subject so quickly. maybe he shouldn’t make her think of that kind of thing and ruin the mood for basically attempting to ask her on a date.

…or she could make the offer and already be grabbing her things. honestly, she’s adorable. “i asked for adventure, didn’t i?” he opens his arms wide and excited, “gimme a tick to grab Harbinger and let my team lead know i’ll be out again. i’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

this could all go terribly, terribly wrong for him at any time, and probably will. it always does. but for once, he thinks just maybe it might be fun enough to be worth it.

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“My hands?” She blinked and looked down at them, noticing the scars around knuckles that nicked edges and hot surfaces when she was too in the moment to be careful and didn’t notice her injury until much later. By the time she looked back up at him, some of her freckles had faded under a new blush. Is he…? No. No way. But at the mention of adventure, she smiled the tiniest bit and began pulling her blanket off the bed, rolling the handmade quilt up tight and shoving it into her pack along with a few snacks she pulled from her desk drawer. “Harbinger? That’s very fitting, for a boy named for the crow. I’ll get Forsvarer and Utholdnet. See you there!” By the time she got to the courtyard, she had redone her hair in a more casual style, braided around the top in a pretty manner but tied off loosely at the bottom so it trailed down her back. Snow was slowly falling and Lifa was just making sure her oil lantern was secure to her pack side, her eyes darting around for Qrow’s presence.

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he sneaks in the shadows, in all the darkness of his namesake and skills, just for fun. he sees Lifa, notices the charm in literally letting her hair down, and also suddenly feels severely under-packed with only Harbinger and a blanket roll strapped to his back for the occasion, but he’s always traveled light. qrow is used to finding what he needs where he goes, or simply going without. …or losing things, or having them be more trouble than they’re worth… he doesn’t give himself time to dwell, pursues further in his game of how close he can get before she senses him, eventually stepping into the light slightly to the side and behind her.

“ready to go?”

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Lifa turns towards him and with her lopsided grin, she pulls her deer skin hood up, lined with white fur, and nods. “Ready and eager.” And seeming none too surprised at his sudden presence. Things lurking in the shadows? Child’s play for her. Lifa leads him through busy city streets, knowing the way to her destination easily as she had been there frequently enough to have it memorized. It was quite a trek through civilization alone, so she passed the time on their way to the border with the only chatter she could think of. “So what sort of weapon is Harbinger? A sword? You seem like a swordsman.” Weapons. The first subject that came to mind. “One handed, if I had to guess.”

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well, he tried. good practice, anyway. at least she doesn’t rub the lack of surprise terribly in his face. admittedly, he’d be disappointed if other students were as easy targets as any old passerby.

and he has one more piece of information about her skills for the tournament. qrow plans to hold onto his secrets as long as he can. this is almost immediately tested, even in the middle of qrow’s wide red eyes trying to take in the city of atlas. everything is steely and it feels like rain-washed glare even on a sunny day. it’s not the most comfortable or familiar of environments, sterile, almost, but it has its own beauty.

he lets his head lull to the side, smirking, lifting an accusatory brow, “Sunshine, you’re really just gonna straight up ask a guy how he handles his sword?” a crude twist of implication, but he’s a teenage boy with adventuring and a pretty redhead on his mind. he turns to start walking sideways, and flips up his cape to reveal the longsword in its entirety. he lets that answer for itself, and even though the small rig of gears could easily suggest to someone with Lifa’s engineering skills that there’s more going on, he says nothing else further. they can geek out after the fights. “…mostly one-handed. buuuut there’s also a lotta things i like using two for.”

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Was the architecture impressive? Yes. Did Lifa like it? No. It lacked something personal and homey for her, no personal connection or familiarity for her to appreciate other than the engineering perspective. When they finally passed the city into the snowy fields, she breathed a deep breath of relief and took it all in, the open horizon caressing something in her soul and reminding it that it was alright. “Well– yes. How else would I learn about your method of combat?” Lifa looked at him quizzically, even tilted her head to the side in a manner so innocent that it was hard to tell if she was messing with him or really didn’t get it.

At his show of weaponry, Lifa her flexed arm in the sleeve of plate that covered from the shoulder to the fingers in a gauntlet and all at once, it showered down to knit into plate sections and spiraled out around the back of her hand to form a heavy circle shield, meaning the sleeve couldn’t be light either. “Interesting you forgo a shield. I was always taught if you have to choose between a blade or shield, take the shield. Did you fight before the academy?”

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a grin returns all the wider when he looks to Lifa again. qrow has seen and done enough playing dumb to know pure innocence at face value. faking it lacked the curiosity clearly on display. oh boy, what is he getting into. trying to get into.

… calm down, qrow. when leading flirtations fall flat anyway, it’s time to simply join the conversation. he lets his cape fall to drape along his back once more, but keeps his hands at the back of his head and laces fingers together, elbows happily raised while he walks and thinks.

“well, mosta the time i find that nothin’ ‘learns’ ya better’n actually trading a few blows instead’a talkin’ about it. but your team made it t’the next round too, right? so we got more of that comin’ up.”

he watches the deployment of her equipment, more impressed by how smoothly it executed in both inner workings and user experience than by the piece itself. his gaze follows along up her arm for eye contact once more, offering a serious expression, “been fightin’ all my life in one way or another. …an’ i was taught if you need a shield, ya ain’t fast or clever enough.”

well, and Harbinger is wide enough to block shots as well as any shield if positioned right, but again, she can find that out for herself. “… so the people who taught ya were more the defensive type, huh?”

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“Indeed. We fight well together, but that’s about all we do together.” Was that bitterness in her voice? Maybe. Scorned by those she was chosen to lead for all her time spent away from home, for the first time in her young life, was something that she couldn’t help but stew over. Lifa lifted her shield slightly to look over the runes she had painstakingly engraved around its rim and took comfort in its familiar presence, like an old mentor showing her the way. “That may be true, but words still have their merit…The shield is a symbolic choice. Almost all of our warriors use them.” The crunch of snow was the only noise for a moment, as Lifa absently rubbed the shoulder of her shield arm, recalling one of many scars she wasn’t quick enough to avoid.

“Ever since I can remember, Grimm clawed at our gates. I didn’t want to hide behind the barricade and hope someone else kept my family safe. I wanted to be one of the shields protecting them. Hence…” and she lifted it with a tired smile, feeling her point was made, as she gestured her fingers around the runes and translated them. “ ‘Fight because you love what is behind you, not for the hatred of the enemy before you.’ If you’re using a shield to hide, you’re dead or worse; useless. But fret not, I also have an ax to take the limbs off any Beowulf too bold for its own good.”

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finally, all the scenery hits qrow. trees stand taller than he’s ever seen sprawling in more packed patterns. the air freshens, the sounds quiet, save for their footsteps and Lifa telling her story. he realizes quickly that his boots are not made for this kind of snow, but at least he has steady feet, most of the time. Lifa acts confident in the direction they are headed, and he’s glad.

lips scrunch into a pout at her obvious resentment, but he doesn’t push it. they differ there, too. everything the tribe did, they did together. even when physically separated, each group was a cog in the wheel of the same goal. survival. and survival when they had no gates.

she has his full attention when she starts talking about being a protector. “that’s… all very noble.”

he’s staring at her, nearly in wonder, while lost in his own head at the same time. another difference. he and Raven came not with hatred nor love in their hearts. simply to learn to kill. because that was their place. their job. maybe it could fall into the category of loving the ‘family’ that would be behind him, but. did he? did he really love any of them besides Raven, who would always be by side? he shakes his head, covers the gesture with a chuckle at her last comment.

“i bet you would. much as i’d like to, i hope i don’t have t’see that today. …so where is all the ‘we’ and ‘our’, anyway? besides ‘not atlas city’, i mean. sounds like the kinda place that’d have a name.”

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“I’m grateful you think so,” Lifa turned her face towards his and smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with it. He was a good listener or perhaps he was just waiting for her to stop talking…No, she believed the first thought. He had that sharpness to his gaze that said he didn’t give his attention to anything he didn’t want to and that was something she quite liked about him already. Lifa walked strangely in the snow. Toe heel, toe heel, toe heel. Piercing the icy surface carefully with the point of her boot so her foot slid into the powder almost silently. But as she noticed the way her was looking at her, with all that garnet intensity, Lifa for once felt compelled to turn her own gaze away and that was not something she did lightly. With her free hand, she reached above to run her fingers along the lush green needles above. “Of course it has a name, it’s just not one people in Atlas respect much. As for if we’ll meet any Grimm…Hush for a few minutes and I’ll be able to tell you.” Was she purposely dodging the question? Perhaps. As they ventured deeper into the wood, she slowed down and turned her face up to the treetops before lifting her hands to her mouth and emitting a high, pure series of sung notes. It echoed high into the air and Lifa gestured for him to wait. Distantly, there was the flutter of wings and chatter of birds in response. Some even emerged from the branches to investigate them with curious dark eyes and Lifa smiled and pointed to them, “See? No Grimm close by.”

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when she stops holding the connection of their smiles, he does too. he’s nothing if not observant, watching her feet instead. an attempt at walking the same way shifts balance, and he has to continue looking down. the snow gets thicker and thicker as told by how much the rocks and underbrush becomes buried. she wasn’t kidding about it being a hike.

if not observant, then call him too curious for his own good. he looks back at her with a quizzical lift to his features. had Lifa just answered the question, qrow could have been satisfied. skirting around it made it a far, far more interesting topic. he’ll drop it, but now he’d have to dig and find out not only what the name is, but why she wouldn’t want to say. surely someone around the school would know.

speaking of dropping, somewhere between the new footwork, the shifted attention, trying to bring up an argument about being hushed when he was already quiet, and likely his damn curse, his carefully stepping feet slip right out from under him when she holds her hand out for a halt; he falls right to his ass with a grunt.

which, maybe, is a good thing, because he’s rather glad to already be floored while trying to process the sound she makes. Somewhere between singing and an animal call, a captivating, otherworldly sound that’s of such a pitch it almost hurts his ears, and then echoes back softly from every surface for what seems like miles. the animals nearby even respond.

his jaw hangs open, and his eyes fill with disbelief, and his hands hold himself upright in the snow, clutching as if he might just fall through the ground because everything suddenly became a crazy dream. he had no idea humans were even capable of making such beautiful noises with nothing but their raw voice.

and then she turns to him like what she’d just done was part and parcel of any other day. the grimm are currently the least of his worries. she keeps getting more beautiful and magical by the minute, and he might just be getting in over his head, but for better or worse that’s never really stopped him. but he really does hope she’s going to offer some sort of explanation for all that.

seriously, who is this girl and where did she come from?

“………”

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“Qrow!” Lifa exclaimed when she found him up to his waist in snow, like a fawn that had misjudged its next few steps and was waiting for its better-knowing mother to come dig him out. She didn’t mean to laugh at his expense, truly, but his looked so dumbfounded by the circumstances, wide eyed and mouth agape, she had to let a tiny giggle win. “Comfortable down there?” She reached down and grabbed him by the back of his jacket with a firm grip. One good pull and she lifted him straight out of the snow, his feet cleared the ground and she gave him a slight shake to dust him off (or perhaps to be comical) before she set him back down on his feet. She hardly grunted with the effort. “Joke as I may, you should really step carefully. It would dampen the mood if you break an ankle and I have to piggy-back you all the way home.” Lifa didn’t give him much time to recover but she was certain he could shake off the astonishment and fall into step. She smirked to herself as she continued forward, taking smug satisfaction before she brought her hand up to her mouth again and without warning, belted out that call once more, reverberating from her throat with a rich vibrato. It was like the forest swallowed it up and breathed it bigger into what should be possible for a small girl to make. She didn’t stop walking or even look at him, as she gestured vaguely in the air with one hand and tapped a branch so snow showered down on them both. “It’s called kulning, if you’re wondering.” On their horizon, the sky was growing a dark indigo color and the first pinpricks of starlight were making themselves known and with the glare of sunset, Lifa could see far ahead the blinding line of white as it reflected on a large body of ice.

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no. no qrow is not comfortable stuffed into the snow, but at least the chill along his back matches the chill down the inside of his spine that her voice had just given him. she’s laughing, and that’s better than the alternative.

he pouts when she plucks him from the snow. she’s strong - he knew that from the way she tugged on him the other day. and earlier today. she really did like the lifting and the tugging, huh? but even though she’s strong, his legs and arms pull in like he’s some kitten lifted by the scruff, as if consolidating his mass might make it easier to hold.

it really couldn’t get more embarrassing.

and he really shouldn’t have thought that, because then it did. she’s not laughing anymore.

“yeah, i know,” he says in a harsh mutter. he knows it would dampen the mood. it always does. he always does. he’s been afraid this whole time, trying to convince himself it would be okay, but now she fully admits it. and it all has nothing to do with his steps.

he almost feels better, letting him self sink into that singing sound again, to let it carry him away maybe to come back more spirited, but then face and shoulders scrunch as more snow invades his space and melts into his clothes. rude. he loves snow on a landscape, but finds it’s not as pleasant all caught in the entirety of his clothes now, and slowly seeping into his person.

“kulning,” he repeats, making the effort to show he’s still listening, but unable to hide the quickly waning amusement. his head hangs too low to enjoy the sunset.

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He had sombered as quickly as a cloud’s shadow passed over a plain and Lifa wondered if it was her doing. Something she did? Said? Had she made a terrible social misstep again and spoiled everything? Maybe he didn’t like her singing. That had to be it. Why did she ever sing in front of people? Stupid, she thought as she twisted the end of her braid around her fingers and muttered, “Kind of annoying, I know.” more at herself than anything. But she wouldn’t let him see her affected. She urged her steps to have purpose and to carry her steadily forward to their goal again, her back straight and eyes pointed forward attentively. Expression set to be impenetrable, as so well trained it was to be. She was looking for something, anything to change the subject to something he felt comfortable with and then she spotted it. As they neared the frozen lake in sight, Lifa reached to her pack and slid out her hatchet. She hefted it once in the air and when it landed in her palm again, she hurled it off to their right.

The blade sank deep into a fallen tree that was leaned sadly over a snowdrift and some stones. Lifa jogged up and hammed the back of the blade once with her shield edge to drive it deeper, before she levered the handle and the wood splintered loudly to reveal the core. A few more solid whacks and Lifa pried a chunk loose and held it up to him victoriously. “I’m sure you know, but a dead tree’s middle is the best dry wood you can find in snow and rain. Help me harvest it? We’ll need a fire to last. If you don’t want to dull your sword blade, I have a hatchet you can borrow.”

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he is still paying attention. he hears Lifa, and watches her lips move. “the safety lectures? yeah a little, tch.” blunt, but honest. as if to prove a point to himself, her, and the whole world, he pumps out a little kick at the next snow drift they pass, even shaking the scooped up chunks free from his boot, all while keeping his footing just fine. tonight, it’s Raven he hears in his head, calling him a moody broody little brother.

that cloud lingers and settles over them both. Lifa trains her gaze forward and with a purpose, so qrow hangs back by a few steps in silent follow, taking and offering some space. although, voicing his complaint, and letting loose his mini tantrum, he does feel a little better. he distracts himself the rest of the way studying those soft reddish braids again. the weave looks familiar, but the patterns are new. he could figure it out. probably. now he can’t get rid of the urge to play with her hair.

he’s supposed to be sight seeing but between his own misery and her, he can’t seem to stay focused on more than immediate surroundings. they stop moving again, and this time he’s prepared for… anything. the wield and throw of a hatchet only makes his shoulders square for a second, because he assumes there’s some sort of enemy target.

and when he figures out it’s only a log, he’s unsure if she’s just having fun or showing off. quickly getting to work and requesting he do the same doesn’t really clarify. well, at least chopping away at some stuff would blow off the rest of all his internalized steam. “yeah, okay.” hands remove from pockets, “i’ll take the hatchet. best to use the tool intended for the job, right?”

for now, he takes the first log and sets to the side to start a pile. finally, he finds a smile once more, “got any work songs to sing t’go with that forest call? i can pay it back once we get the fire goin’.” is that how it went for her too? trading entertainment for entertainment and hospitality. but qrow always had an easier time of it along with the rhythm of flames.

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“No, I meant my…” Lifa swiveled around sharply to stare at him, surprised he had missed her meaning and her hair swung over her shoulder as she did. But she saw the expression on his face and left it alone. Maybe it’s just wounded male pride after all. Thirty second cycle and he’ll be over it. She took the twin and tossed it gently in his direction, trusting he could catch it by the handle but she didn’t look to see if he did. If he didn’t, it would fall short just in front of his toes into the snow. Lifa set to work prying more wood free, intending to go in silence and just hope once she showed him the lake, she could make things better but then he asked. Lifa rested her fingers against the engravings of the blade, remembering the time she carved them with her own hand and the tune she hummed with the grind of metal. “Only if you pay it back,” she relented. So she chopped, stacked and wrapped the bundle in time to a gentle but comforting melody. “I know a place we can go, No one has been there and no one will know, There it is quiet, forget all the violence We’ve tried so hard to endure…” Lifa took a cord from the outside pocket of her bag and fastened her dense firewood bundle to it before she swung it onto her back and passed him a second one to wrap his own, finding a small smile again as she blinked snowflakes from her eyelashes. “So come with me dear, The bright city hum hurts my ears. Sigh with the trees We could be free. Oh, I know a place we could go.” With the last note on her tongue, she turned and began to walk. Over snow. And then onto the ice. “I’m tired of fear. Grasping for safe, familiar. You are like me, oh, could we leave?”

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qrow catches it easily. not that she’d have any reason whatsoever to trust his reflexes at this point. and she didn’t even watch when it worked. oh well. he already knows he’s missed some things, because he always manages to in his sour moods. he spins the hatchet in his hand, feeling the weight and balance of it, appreciating the design and craftsmanship. it is clearly a weapon, but he’s allowed to use it as a tool. to him, that is quite the sign of trust.  

he takes comfort in knowing this has still been an adventure and it isn’t over. and that there will soon be a fire. a warm, dry fire. (he tries to ignore all the ways he could further screw it up.)

what she sings is not a burly, rhythmic work song as he thought, with a pounding beat to chop to, but instead something as lovely as the kulning, but softer. soothing. and he doesn’t wonder if the lyrics are intentionally chosen. between the song given, and Lifa’s own patterns, he finds a timing to work alongside, but almost feels guilty to interrupt with hatchet hacks and wood splitting.

he pretends the pieces are grimm. fears. doubts. he keeps controlled, skilled, and absolutely decimates them in perfect little chunks. he can even smile back when he proudly carries his own stack and accepts the cord.

but when he tries to tie everything up, one hunk wriggles out and drops into snow. he sighs and slumps his head once more, but she’s still singing, and somehow even though she’s turned away and walking forward he can picture her turning her head and singing that last bit right at him, and now he knows it’s intentional, and he’s not going to ruin it. she is like him. and qrow likes her.

just for one damn night let him not ruin it.

he swallows hard as she steps out onto a slippery surface. but she is so sweet to spend time with him, sing for him, put up with him at all. he will try not to be afraid for her. he follows. he lifts his head and ignores the ice and finally takes in more than immediate surroundings. everything looks just like the picture, more or less. it has a solemn magnificence in the dusk, but he bet it’s looks absolutely breathtaking when the sunlight hits just right.

he looks gazes through a few more trees, “hey, that’s the cabin up ahead, huh?”

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Night had come. There was the last faded violet tones at the bottom of the sky between tree trunks and shadows, and then the day was finally asleep and the stars were making themselves known. Lifa walked with even, short steps on the slick ice, covered here and there with thin patches of snow blown across the surface by the wind. Luckily, the thick treeline kept the worst of it at bay. Lifa followed his eyes, as she steadily headed towards the middle of the ice and now that it was truly dark, she took a small lantern from her pack’s side and sparked it aflame to give them a small circle of amber light to travel by. “Sure is. It was just two and a half walls when I started at the academy. I cut some new logs and packed in some sod to make it a little homier…Sometimes I just come out here and stay the night. Then I climb back through my dorm window before daylight. Y’know, normal girl stuff.” She flashed him another crooked smile, strained and self deprecating. The lake didn’t take all that long to cross, but by the time they did, it was pitch black except for tiny pricks of stars and Lifa’s lantern. The night of a new moon gave very little light to be refracted by the ice crystals. She wants to get him to the cabin quickly, to a warm hearth and show him all the things she had brought to try to create a lovely night, to show him the otherworldly beauty she adored about her homeland. She wanted to have someone see why she was doing all of this. It was for no gesture of power or attempt to be noticed, no whimsical notion of a naive princess acted upon because no one could tell her no. Was it so hard to see she loved this world? And that was something to fight for? That was where her royalty, if such a thing could be defined, derived from? Not entitlement, but being honored with the chance to help that which she governed. No naïve princess am I, but you don’t even know that. Lifa took a chain from under her coat collar, produced a key and stopped at the cabin door to unlock it and let him inside. Every wall was covered in intricate wooden carvings, although there were empty patches or patterns still in the process of being finished. There was a bed of animal furs, some equipment to fish, hunt or cook, but otherwise it was quite simplistic. But best of all, there was a functional fireplace and chimney.

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qrow more or less scuffles across the ice, but it works. forever used to slipping up and catching himself up, he is. if he tries not to think about it too hard or care too much, his feet find themselves more naturally.

“you built it? …scratch that, ya snuck out to build it?” Lifa would only find the beadiest of little red rascal eyes with matching crookedness when she turned to look. (even besides the fact that her freckled face is even prettier in the lantern glow and star-studded snowlight).

“man, i got no idea what normal girl stuff really is, but tha’s what it should be, if ya ask me. i c’n pitch a tent pretty good, but we were never’n one spot long enough for anything like a real cabin.”

freedom. that’s what he’s here for. he doesn’t know any better, and doesn’t want much better either. there’s too much world to stay all cooped up or tied down. he loves the world too. more and more the notion of protecting it for true as a huntsman grows on him. and going home to the tribe seems so - small.

although four walls sounds pretty good right about now, for a bit, to warm up and refresh.

…and apparently be wowed by a whole new landscape that has nothing to do with land. a quick scan of the room takes in all the cozy furnishings. a bed covered in animal furs seems just a little too perfect and has his mind spiraling in far more pleasant directions than all the prior self-derision.

but ultimately all the little carvings on the door frame distract tactile desires and attention. fingers trace dips and ridges and grooves, eyes follow patterns. none of her drawings could have prepared him for this, not even the engineering ones had this much detail. connecting the two, he’s not terribly surprised, but still finds himself repeating with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “damn! you. built. this…? …in not even two years?”

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“Like I said, it was already partially there, probably used to be an ice fisher’s hut but it was abandoned for a bit. I just built over the old foundation, cut new logs and all.” Lifa brushed off the effort as if it wasn’t weeks of work, maybe a little flustered by his evident astonishment. Was it that impressive to him? The girl dropped her pack near the hearth, where a moderate stack of birch wood rested and set to work on getting a fire going. She knelt down close to the stack of tinder and kindling, taking the blade of her hatchet and striking the flint on the metal at a steady pace to shower sparks of it. It took a few tries, while he explored the images of stars, trees, elk and more she had created over her time at the academy. But the three largest were birds of different kinds. An eagle, an owl and a raven. The sparks caught and Lifa ducked her head down to blow gently on the curls of smoke. A flame sprung up and she sat back with a grin of pride, quickly feeding it before it ate through the starter. “Yes, Qrow, I built it.” She confirmed again, but with much more confidence. Maybe it was feeding her ego a bit. Lifa dragged her pack onto her lap and opened it, starting to set the contents on the floor. A tin of food, a bottle of something, a board game, a small cooking pot. “A small cabin is maybe a month of work with fair weather but how about to take off your shoes and get your toes warm again before I get into the logistics of it? And bring the furs over, we can get comfy while we wait.”

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he had no concept of time for such a thing. especially a thing filled with so much art. time passes slowly when he reaches the birds. big, beautiful ones, and regal looking. it seemed even art and atlesian legends favored ravens over crows. they’re still all three beautiful.

he hears the logs stack into place and the sharp burst of metal on flint. he knew how to start a fire, but just as well she handled it. he wouldn’t want to burn this lovely place down after Lifa worked so hard on it. when the flames reach a dull roar and Lifa’s sounding more pleased, he makes his way over.

“i knew you were cool,” he says for the second time that day, with a wink.

sweet stars a warm fire, yes!

his shoes are already kicked off by the time she says so. in short order, followed by socks, and pants and… once she’s set up her supplies, he’s stripped down to burgundy boxers, hung his clothes from the mantle to dry, and laid down on his back, basking like a cat - a lithe, sinewy cat with very taut and toned abs and legs - in the fire’s glow and warmth of the wood beneath him - dry and pulling away moisture from clammy skin.

“oh furs?” a gruff mutter considers it, “…okay, inna minute.”

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“You haven’t even begun to find out, pretty boy.” Lifa was occupied with opening the tin of food for them, full of shortbread cookies, small chopped pieces of some sort of smoked sausage, apple pieces dipped in caramel and a few other odds and ends like candied pecans and dried pieces of fruit. As she set the pot in place over the fire and uncorked the bottle with a pop! Lifa put a little packet of spices in with a golden liquid and left it to slowly warm. She turned back around to ask, “Do you like venis– ancestors above me!” He’s practically naked. How did he get so undressed so quickly? How did she not notice? Why couldn’t she stop staring? Her eyes, round as coins, were just wandering over the planes of his shoulders and collar bones, how the firelight pooled in shadows or ivory glows on his skin, turning him into something of an intricate oil painting. She kind of wondered if– No! You are not wondering anything! You are a sovereign and huntress! All at once, Lifa resurrected her melted brain and stood up, marched across to the bed and grabbed a reindeer skin. Without an ounce of grace, she tossed it over him. “You won’t warm up like that.” she said quickly, completely unaware that all of the freckles on her cheeks were almost invisible under how red they were.

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he’s blissfully letting the cold seep away from his bones, watching Lifa unpack more goodies than he thought could possibly fit in one tin. his mouth waters in a way it hasn’t since the best cook at the bandit camp had her rotation. this took some serious planning, which Lifa must have done all in one afternoon, because he’d only just picked a destination earlier in the day. no wonder she’s a team leader.

for all indecent thoughts which had crossed qrow’s mind on the way here, and indecent hopes still drifting in his head, the fact that baring so much skin could itself cross the lines of decency never even occurred to him. he had found not everyone in the kingdoms had the same openness he grew up with, but that’s why he left the boxers on! but then Lifa stares, and flushes, and he remembers his earlier considerations of how innocent she must be.

and all of a sudden he’s frowning from beneath a fur hide, decidedly colder from its spot in the cold air cabin than the heat coming from the hearth. not to mention the sight of beautiful blooming rosy cheeks having been stolen away and replaced with dead animal. momentarily.

“whaaat?” qrow digs his hands around until he finds an edge, and plunks his head out from beneath the cover, but respects her wishes of keeping the rest in place over his body. not an ounce of shame sits upon his features, but rather, quite a silly grin.

“never seen human skin before, Lifa? not even a communal bath or anythin’ back home?”

maybe people in colder climates weren’t so inclined to be naked to the elements all that often. well, he’s dug himself this deep. he might as well keep going. if he’s going to ruin things, at least he can start doing it fabulously. although, having traveled all the way out here now, she’s kinda stuck with him.

even more of his teeth start to show, “so. …am i still pretty?”

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Lifa groaned loudly and sat down by the fire, burying her face in her hands before dragging them down her cheeks and giving him a scathing look. Not truly hostile, just irritated that he was poking her buttons. “Baths? No. We have public saunas but I don’t participate. It would be improper for me and in fact, most of the time they’re restricted to men and women being separ– why am I even answering this question?” she tossed her hands in the air and set back to setting up the game board. It looked like a checker board, except more in a cross fashion, forming four avenues and there were a great deal many pieces. Smooth stones painted with a white goose on top and one painted with an amber fox. It was getting warmer with her layers on, so Lifa undid the clasps of her fur wrap and laid it aside, relieved with it gone. The fire was steadily heating the cabin’s interior and her sleeved tunic was plenty warm, considering it was such fine wool. Lifa toyed the end of her braid in her fingers with a pouty expression, her brows furrowed and jaw clenched. Her own form of bashfulness. “I am thinking of a word for you right now and it is not pretty. Do you know this game? she demanded the last question and held up the fox piece to show him.

Her entire right side was bathed in the fire light, now that it had begun to consume whole logs and her hair seemed to draw the light in and emanate it on its own, like the glow of a candle. The other side of her was shadowed, as though she were still standing on the ice.

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riling people up always made information slip. improper - for her specifically. qrow definitely tucks that little note away. she answers because he’s genuinely interested on top of being a smart ass, but Lifa seems set on changing the subject, so he lets her. he also knows better than to press too many buttons of someone who just laid out a bunch of delicious looking food.

now that he is dry and the air is warm, and they are both safe as it gets, and he can even relax a little - his stomach lets loose a loud growl beneath fur cover. but he dutifully tries to keep his attention on everything she’s setting out next, rather than the smells from the snacks, or what that word she’s thinking of might be, or the adorable expression he finally earns in reaction to his flirting - glowing in the firelight. teasing him in so many ways, this girl…

“uh…” he sits up, pulling arms loose from his hide blanket, and using them to tuck the rest into something of a tartan sash by sitting on ends or letting them drape over one shoulder. curious eyes glance over the board and pieces, and while he can find elements of many things he’s played in the past, the general combination doesn’t look familiar. a hint of anxiety spikes again.

“can’t say i do. t’be honest, looks like the kinda thing i wouldn’t be allowed near. me and, um, stuff with a lotta little pieces don’t really get along.”

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Lifa popped a piece of apple between her teeth and savored the tart and sweet on her tongue, as she settled down crosslegged and comfortable by the fire. As she chewed, she wiped a bit of melted caramel off her bottom lip and ran her tongue over her thumb, stopping to nibble on her nail in thought while she moved some of Qrow’s gear a little closer to the fire so the toes of his shoes would dry through. “You can’t be worse than me, I’ll flip the board if I get too upset about losing and spend all night angry I have to pick it all up again.” she smirked at him, although she was completely honest. She would do it. “So let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It’s an easy enough game, Qrow, I brought it from home to try to get my team mates to play it but, uh…anyway. One of us controls the birds, the other is the fox.” She moved a few bird pieces around the fox to demonstrate, “The goal is to trap the fox where it can’t escape or eat one of the birds. If there’s no space behind a bird, it can’t be eaten but if there is, the fox can jump over and gobble it up. If there’s not enough birds left to trap it, fox wins. I just thought it would be a fun way to pass the time while we wait for the show. I’ll play the fox?” Lifa rolled the game piece over her fingers smoothly, back and forth, like a coin or card. The last roll, she bounced it off her thumb and caught it in her palm deftly, waiting for his answer with an expression akin to hopefulness. A hope that he wouldn’t turn her down flat like her team did.

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waiting until someone else started on the food is about all the etiquette qrow could actually pull from what had been crammed in his head so far, so he’s grateful to be surrounded by a picnic of familiar finger foods. he shoves a whole sausage and a few pieces of the dried fruit into his mouth and manages to chew with his mouth closed as Lifa fusses with more tasty smelling things on the fire.

yet again, she helps distract and settle over-stimulated nerves in demonstrating her own brand of messy eating and managing to make burnt sugar spilling over somehow attractive, but maybe his head just runs away with him again. she admits to making a mess of the game, too, and that definitely must have resulted in a losing some pieces in the past. well, as long as none of this is too important to her…

she speaks with the same dismissive disappointment Summer had when trying to convince Raven to spar with her their first few months. team leaders have it hard, huh?

he had come here for adventure, not games, but with his clothes still drying, food to eat, and all that same spark of light in her eyes emphasized by the fire’s glow, he figures there are worse ways to kill time.

“sure. i’ll try a round.” less secrets of strategy need be kept with minor pastimes. he mutters aloud, “…so better for the birds to work in pairs.” a universal truth in his life.

focused red gaze moves from the board to her face, back to grinning and apparently emboldened by warmth and the idea that she seriously has no issue moving along in all these planned intricacies with him in little but a blanket, “so’s this mean i get t’call ya a fox now, since you said it first?”

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“Seems you’ve already caught on to one of the many lessons this game has to teach,” Lifa set her piece down on the board with a sharp clack, leaning forward with her chin in one palm and her brow furrowed in focus. They followed every position on the board, calculating routes of both evasion and attack. Oh yes, it has a great deal of hidden meaning…she didn’t catch on to the one he was insinuating or at least not to it’s true theme.

Lifa rolled her eyes, jumping her game piece over one of his and claiming the devoured bird for her side. “Red hair, red fox. I haven’t heard that one before.” Sarcasm, of course. She had heard all manner of nicknames and jokes about her vibrant locks and that didn’t even cover the silly superstitions her own people insisted it meant. Favored by the gods, born to shed blood, born to die young. Shit like that. But all in all, his veiled flirting was a hit and miss. “You can but I’ll be calling you Scare-Qrow if you do.”

The fire spat and she leaned over to look inside the pot, which was now generating a very enticing, mouth watering aroma. Thank gods, it’s ready. Lifa took the two cups she had pulled from her pack and lifted the hot handle with her gloved hand, pouring the drink into each like molten translucent gold. Hot spiced mead; the real taste of home. The first sip ran like slow, gentle fire down her throat and seemed to set her aglow from inside with its taste, hot honey tickling her mouth delightfully.

Lifa closed her eyes for a moment to savor it and all the memories with it. “You know, it’s traditional for my homelands huntsmen in training to play this game. It teaches team work and sacrifice. I mostly ended up getting the pieces chucked at my head by my brother or smacked with the board by my mentor for being a brat…It’s nice to play it again, though, so— thank you. You’re pretty nice to a girl you’ve known less than a day. Nicer than most people at this Academy.”

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any strategies specific to this game elude him, but he makes his own assessment of the board. he projects his own experiences on top of it, mixed with the training from school. he focuses on moving the front line of birds towards their rear partners while fanning out. pairs, then small groups so pairs could cover for each other, in as many directions as the number of pieces allowed.

“nah, just foxy,” he states plainly without even looking up from the board to impress flirtation or explain what is perhaps cultural connotation, he seeks only to clarify any lack of allusion to color, to diffuse insult. “an’ i’ve been called worse. heh,” now he looks up, amusement rounding and raising his cheeks.

he grew up with his own share of superstitions thrust upon him. but here Lifa takes a sign of bad luck and changes it to something a bit silly that hangs out in an open field and is meant to protect… “kinda like that one actually.”

he hears and smells the pot too, had been wondering what treat she had for him next as he downs a few more of the nibbles laid out. recognition of the scent almost finds him, but the thought that a pot likely held soup distracted from the truth. he takes the cup and it reminds him of the cider, and his mind inches ever so closer to an answer. ultimately, the first sip finally reveals it. a brand new spice mix hits the front and sides of his tongue, while the honey hits the back, and the alcohol burns in a slow, syrup motion down the back of his throat. mead!

sugar crystals melt and prickle along inner linings and he smiles even wider, recalling their conversation on the roof, “you remembered! damn… this puts my two tiny whiskey bottles t’shame. might’s’well be muddy rain water in comparison.” forget even pulling them from his pouch now. something from his own stash is all he could manage without buyer covers here in atlas. no need for lesser when a whole pot of mead between them would be more than enough for a good time.

he listens, sipping often at the cup. it’s way too hot, but equally way too delicious to care. it’s good to know playing games seems to go about the same way for most teachers and siblings. he moves another of his pieces, fingers lingering and rocking it in hesitant thought at her last words.

“yeah, well. thanks f’bringin’ me t’such a cool place.” qrow remembers himself and lets go before it cracks or pushes through the board, or something else stupid. his voice shrinks, “most people don’t ev’n want me around this long. an’… t’be honest i’m still gettin’ usedta nice bein’ a compliment.” he puffs up his chest, willing some manner of pride back through humor - in letting out derisive air through a crooked and scrunched expression, “though i guess i shouldn’t be su’prised t’hear that when y’live with alla these atlas stuffies. …what about your team? y’get along with them alright?”

he kinda figured all the teams worked it out to work together one way or another, but, he looks down at all these birds and one lone fox piece, and he wonders.

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“I thought you might,” His subtle bashfulness and smile drew her eye to his features again magnetically. He had a sharp wit, a cold edge but there was a softness there that made her feel like she was being shown something precious, like this secluded and protected place of her own. She became distracted watching his long fingers move across the board and in a moment, she realized he was rapidly approaching victory. Lifa tried to snap out of it by taking a drink but it didn’t do anything whatsoever to pull her out of the warm ease she’d found. Complacency was eroding at her competitiveness, which was a very new situation for her. Lifa looked up at him in a snap motion, her eyes flashing in the same manner an animal might whip their head around and perk their ears when alerted of something. She washed questions down with another drink and gestured to him with her cup, “Well, I’m not most people. I’ll have you know I’m enjoying my time with you. It’s straight up jovial in this creepy cabin in the woods.” Lone fox indeed. Lifa, in all her boldness and liberty taking ways, found that fluttering wisp of shyness again and wrapped herself in it like a gossamer curtain. She gazed around the carvings, pretending for a moment it was the walls of somewhere back home, walls of no kind like these in Atlas. “They are professional, if they absolutely have to be. But I’ll always be the mountain savage in their eyes. Simple. Barbaric. Always deserving less, me and all my people.” Lifa skipped her piece over one of Qrow’s, promptly claiming another avian life. “But it’s alright. They can reduce me in their eyes until they go blind with the effort…I won’t grant their scorn any governance over myself. I know my worth.” I know my worth. She repeated it to herself, even as she fought to believe it.

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qrow feels it. he feels it all when he drops his guard like this. his mind engaged, throat tingling with alcohol, belly full, a pretty someone happy in his company, means he eases into uncommon happiness right with Lifa, she’s not wrong. short-lived. rare, so rare that it doesn’t surprise him at all when the sunny girl suddenly turns to shotgun fire and his eyes blast open too. his gaze flits around to follow, over both shoulders and behind him, those bangs she so liked to tease over flying in all directions, blanket bunching coming loose to fall lower on his frame. what had he done now?

he expects to see something in flames, a carving collapsing, the cauldron bubbling over, but nothing. nothing so far. no, his semblance didn’t spark it, something he said must have hit a nerve. another gulp of mead attempts to calm his own.

he doesn’t even look back to the board yet; still listening instead. the least he can do.

it doesn’t hurt how much she has a way with words when she’s upset, apparently. it almost sounds like she’s giving a speech from some high and mighty ledge.

…all her people? that seemed an odd way to phrase it. something more tucked away for later.

he knows the look of someone pulling themselves together by thin threads. qrow and Raven so practiced at the art they could practically weave a tapestry of false security between them. Lifa’s pride glows like gold from the stern set jaw of her face. all the wildest images of undressing her that still simmer in his head couldn’t match the layers which peel away and leave her bare right now.

bird pieces on the same side of the board as the fox fall back in tactical retreat to regroup. it may look cowardly, but qrow doesn’t like loosing so many pieces. a belief in minimizing casualties never gained him much favor in the tribe, but he can play this game his own way. meanwhile, qrow himself scooches closer to Lifa once finished with his move, lying a gentle hand on her closest knee.

“hey,” rugged voice itself shrugs. what can he possibly say to that? to someone he barely knows? “…if you’re a mountain savage in atlas, then i’m a forest one in vale.”

not how to compliment someone. not even close to the best expression of himself, finding words and courage to do so remains a weak point. a shallow attempt at cheer his best bid to offer.

“speakin’ of,” touch removes as quickly as placed. clothes most certainly dry by now, he slides himself back towards the fire and pulls his pants back on beneath the blanket. (and a button catches, and the inner lining of hide tears, because there it is now, but he’s just not going to mention it and make sure the frustrated growl he lets out sounds like it’s from the awkwardness of tugging trousers on while sitting on the floor), “…ahem. don’t i still owe ya a song?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

His small but meaningful efforts to reach her were noticed. His words draw a smile of a girl remembering that yes, there is someone here who likes her, who doesn’t look down his nose at her and wish her gone as quickly as possible. She’s seen. And what a terrifying strategy of war that was, sliding off pieces of armor and lowering her weapon baring hand to stand close to a fire that only burns when disrespected. His hand startles her smile. Lifa didn’t know how to interpret it, the gesture was so utterly audacious of him that she had to remind herself that it could be just barely defined as treason, if facts were stretched. All her life, she was raised on a pedestal whilst kneeling in pious servitude, having to always walk the line between an acolyte and an idol. But in a single gently red hot touch, he reminded her that none of those things were in this cabin now. This boy was all equal parts mysterious, smart mouthed and utterly tender. What a way to make her head foggy and her cheeks flush for a few moments when she realized her leg felt cold now that his palm was away and she wanted it back. Was her heart going to jump out and do a dance it was clearly gearing to do? Lifa’s lips split into her lopsided grin and she promptly made herself comfortable among their blankets, stretching out on her stomach and propping her chin in one hand to peer at him expectantly through her eyelashes, feet raised lazily in the air. A rather flattering view of certain…curves. “You most certainly do and I am all ears.” she declared, eager for him to keep his end of the bargain.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

good. great. fantastic. maybe he could complete this while outrunning his next slip up of semblance. he downs the last dregs of his drink and pushes it all to the back of his mind, pulling forward instead the memories of bonfire revelry he grew up with at least weekly.

even if qrow had any idea of the standard which Lifa carries in her head, he holds little affection for authority, and far less regard for its rules - demonstrated in no greater way than how he decides for himself that pants make him decent enough, and finally lets furs fall to move around freely.

anyway, for his people, putting too many barriers between one’s body and the flames carrying tribute to the sky is what’s nearly blasphemous.

he finds a sturdy wooden footstool and sets it before the hearth. usual seating would place him looking into the fire to watch a flickering dance and let it focus and guide his beat, but tonight a far hotter view demands his attention on the opposite side. he chooses to cross legs and sit between burning logs and a makeshift drum with his back to the glow. shadows shift along his skin, and likewise darkened eyes openly drag over Lifa’s form; one brow raises in appreciation of long, thick layers draping in more revealing ways, wildfire locks flowing loose around her shoulders, and posture so eager and attentive.

with a head toss to rustle hair in her direction for some hype of what’s about to come, he’ll count it success if he can half match the show she gives him just lying there.

the song demands something of a primal nature, and she makes it too easy for him to call forth.

with no accompaniment or other instruments available, he’ll have to make do with keeping it simple. open palms strike the edge of the stool to make sharp sounds. after that, one hand forms a fist to summon a richer, deeper sound from the center. then, both.

♫ ♫

pat, pat pat, pat

bam, bam, bam, bam, bam

bam, pat, bam, pat, bam, pat, bam, pat…

to keep up with the rhythm of drumming, his body begins to rock, throwing controlled energy into the force of each beat. qrow tightens his belly taut like a drum itself to let foreign lyrics follow in gruff, gutteral chants bouncing from deep in his chest to vibrate in his throat and release with huffed air and hisses. the closest to singing the fry of his voice lets him get.

qrow’s heard it enough times to repeat, though clueless of any translation.

Нэг л хун их л гунигтай Ижлээ хайн тэмүүлэв гэнэ Эргэн тойронд хэрэн хэсэж Хайртай хосоо олов гэнэ Оройтож олдсон тэр л хайранд Умбан наадан жаргав гэнэ Орчлон дэлхийг мартан дурлаж Олон хоногийг элээв гэнэ Үртэй болсноо ижилдээ дуулган Үүрд хамт байхаа амлав гэнэ Өсөж торнисон нуурандаа гэрлэж…

♫ ♫

[naughty-teddy-innit]

An Ed Sheeran Oneshot, AKA Couch Fluff. 💙💙💙

So I stumbled across THIS Gif a few days ago, and the comment about imagining Ed stroking his fingers up and down your arm, and underneath your sleeve totally got me and it spiralled into a Cuddly oneshot that I'm kinda in love with. Hope you guys like it, and no Smut this time around! 

“Edward Christopher….” Your voice is soft, yet a touch of wry exasperation flavours the words you aim in his direction.  “You’re absolutely NOT helping, you know.”

You’re splayed across one end of the overstuffed, navy blue sectional that occupies your living room, well-worn plush throw pillows propping your legs up.  Your MacBook is open in your lap, textbooks, mounds of handwritten notes and references stacked beside you. You were thisclose to finishing your last semester of school, and this last, final paper, along with your final exams, had consumed every moment of your time and energy for the past 2 weeks. The topknot that resides atop your head probably hadn’t been let down in days, and your ever-present sweatpants were probably becoming a little TOO well-worn.  You’d abandoned your contacts 4 days ago, and resorted to the glasses that Ed so lovingly referred to as your “Potter Specs”.  You were BEYOND ready to be done, and to rejoin the world of the people that slept. And bathed. That’d be a good idea.

Your eyes were beginning to cross as you attempted to keep focus on the screen in front of you, and your fingers were beginning to forget how to spell.  A deep, exhausted sigh falls from your lips, and only a moment later, you feel his weight shift from his position to the side of you, on the opposite side of the sofa, to now against your hip.  You feel, suddenly, warm fingers gently tracing along the outer bend and crease of your arm.  They drift slowly upward, gently, softly stroking under the sleeve of your jersey.  Slowly up and down, a soft, soothing pattern drawn against the warm give of your flesh. A soft hum of contentment rumbles in your chest, the slow stroke of his slightly calloused fingertips sending waves of warmth and relaxation through your tense, exhausted body.  However heavenly his fingers were though, they were NOT helping your already stretched-to-capacity brain to prove your hypothesis. Hence, your half-hearted protest.  

“Sooo not helping me concentrate, Teddy.” You sigh.  “Feels SO nice, but I gotta finish this SOMEHOW, and soon.”

You feel his weight suddenly shift again, and he’s sitting up and facing you with a full pout on his face, and you can’t help but laugh at expression. So very your Teddy.

“What’s that face for?” You laugh softly.  Reaching just slightly, you comb your fingers though the scruff on his jaw, allowing your thumb to gently swipe the outline of his pillowy lips. He captures your hand before you can pull it back, his fingertips twining with yours, and lifts it to his lips. He dots soft, supple kisses along the bump of each knuckle, and then sighs as you smile ruefully and pull your hand back, tenderly brushing his cheek before straightening your laptop.

“I am a sad, neglected Ginger Man.” He pronounces with dramatized woe in his voice.  “I only want attention.”

You can’t help the laugh-snort that escapes as you take in the puppy dog eyes that he’s oh so skillfully aimed in your direction.

“Neglected???” You tilt your head and give him your own pretty little pout, loving the sparkle in his blue eyes at the mischief in yours. “My poor sweet Teddy. How in the world have you survived this long?? 2 WHOLE weeks.”  

“Can’t help it.” He says stubbornly. “I miss my cuddles. And your cooking, cause fuck knows I can’t feed myself. Oh, and also, I miss getting you naked. You have such a pretty bum.” He sighs.

He says this so plaintively and earnestly, you can’t help but fall to pieces, until your shoulders are shaking and you have to pull your glasses off to wipe your eyes. That BOY.

“Baby, believe me, I KNOW it’s been a rough couple of weeks. I have ONE exam left, and this last fucking paper to submit, and then you can have at my pretty bum and every other part of my body, for as LONG as you want. And then again after that.” You cock your head as you finish that thought, and let your fingers drift to cover his. You shoot him a mischievous smirk, and whisper, “If it helps, there are several parts of YOUR body I’m desperate to reacquaint myself with.” You catch his gaze and grin at widening of his eyes.

“Tease.” he says drily, with no preamble and a raised invisible blond eyebrow. “I suppose Little Ed can wait a little longer…”  He sees your own raised eyebrow and the gleeful giggle that’s about to escape your lips and cuts you RIGHT off. “OI. NOT so little Ed, then. Massive Ed. GIGANTIC ED-“

You give him the most knowing look you can muster, and pat his knee. “You just keep telling yourself that, babes. He’s gargantuan. Mythological, even. Overshadows any other penis I’ve ever see - Wait, ED NO!! AHH-“

You SHRIEK as he suddenly launches himself from his sitting position, and you find yourself flat on your back, face to face with a pair of large, twinkling sea blue eyes, and the ENTIRE length and weight of his soft, warm body squashing you into the couch cushions. You’re positively shaking, belly laughs wracking your body as he simply lays there, innocence etched on his face as he covers your body with his.

“Hi,” he says with a massive grin. “Got your attention now, Love. Gimme kisses, and MAYBE me and my neglected, mythological, man parts will let you get back to your laptop. Maybe.”

“You think ATTACKING me gets you kisses, you MEAN man??” You’re gasping high-pitched giggles as you try to wiggle him off, but he’s not remotely having it. Little bugger; he’s not even moving, he’s all out planking with you pinned beneath him, a giant satisfied grin plastered across his face. Damn those scruffy dimples. And he smells delicious, traces of laundry soap and cologne and just…Teddy. Dammit.

One colourful arm suddenly lifts up and he props himself up, one inked up forearm on either side of your head, and he hoists, almost slides, his body right up over yours. One leg is drawn up, soft flesh and firm muscle pressed up against your outer thigh and hip. He’s NOT letting you go, and the utterly pleased-with-himself smirk that’s NOT left his face is just far too cute. It is NOT fair.

“You may have ONE kiss.” You solemnly acquiesce. “One kiss, and then, sir, you need to UNSQUASH ME-“

His lips are on yours before you can form another thought, and…Oh. God, there is never a time you don’t love his kisses.  His lips, so soft and yielding and yummy, you’ve missed these slow, tender kisses. He has a habit of infusing every embrace, every graze and caress with meaning and intent. Whether it was a joyful, loving smooch, or deep and carnal, his kisses were never a wasted thought.

“Mmmmmmmm…” you hum, losing yourself in feel of his body pressed against yours, and the delicious tickle of his beard as it gently chafes your sensitive skin.  He’s all about the slow, lingering kisses this time aroun; catching your upper lip, then a gentle tug to your bottom lip. For the first time in over a week, you can feel the tension leave your body, all thoughts of hypothesis’ and arguments and due dates, a distant and fuzzy memory, and it’s so just what you needed. You manage to extricate your arms from beneath the weight of his, awkwardly sliding them up and over the slope of his shoulders and back, your fingers winding through the silky curls at his neck.  A contented rumble rolls through him at your touch, and he presses his body as tightly against yours as he can, drawing out more and more warm, melty, kisses that you wish would never end.  He slows suddenly, his lips tracing a gentle new path as he tenderly marks the landscape of your jawline, your forehead, even the tip of your nose, and it’s just so heavenly, and in this moment you’re not sure you’ve ever felt so cherished.

He pulls back, and his eyes crinkle into an affectionate smile. His fingers and thumbs brush along the curve of your cheek, tucking a loose tendril of your hair behind your ear before he drops one last kiss on your lips. He grins, and lifts himself up off of you, plunking himself into a criss-cross applesauce position. He proffers a hand, and you yelp out a giggle as he yanks you back up into a sitting position.

“I missed those lips.” He says affectionately. “They might be my very favourite thing.

“They missed you too. I didn’t realize how much I needed that.” You tip your head back, letting your head fall softly against the soft padding of the couch. “I feel like I haven’t be able to BREATHE lately…I’m so sorry if felt like I forgot about you.”  You reach for his hand, entwining your fingers with his in a grateful squeeze.

“Nah. I could never feel like that, love. You know I like to dick around, but it’s all in fun”, he chuckles. He adjusts himself, leaning forward, and his fingertips are slowly tracing those warm, soothing patterns into the soft inner crease of your arm again, just the way you love it.  “I’m so fucking proud of you for all this. I never did Uni, I could never pull all this off. You’re gonna kick the shit out of these finals, innit?? You kick the shit out of EVERYTHING.”

This man. Your heart seems to be connected to that lump in your throat again, you just…love him.  He always has your back, and always seems to know exactly what to say, or do, to pull you back from the brink. He is a keeper, and if you have anything to say about it, you’re not ever letting go.

You grin at him, and tug his scruff, guiding his face to yours. “I love you too, Teddy.”  You press a kiss to those lips, feeling the smile that’s spreading across his face, and you’re both giggling as the kisses turn into silly pecks and smooches.

You press hand to his chest and push him back to his side of the couch, and reach for the forgotten MacBook that’s fallen to the floor.

“I need a shower.” You stretch as you flick the screen back, reminding yourself where you left off. You glance at the adorable, scruffy man across from you, and raise an eyebrow.  “Give me another half hour, and maybe you’d care to join me…?”  

He face scrunches up and his eyes widen, and you can tell he is ALL about that invitation.  

“Only if I get to wash that pretty bum…” he says with a naughty grin.  

You lean forward and catch his lips in a quick kiss, before whispering “You can wash whatever you want, Teddy.”

COMMENTS/FEEDBACK are Loooove! 

*MASTERLIST Here*

[itsallavengers]

SO I WROTE THE ANGST (which u can find here if u want) AND. DIED A LITTLE BIT INSIDE. But,,, it’s his birthday,,, I can’t just write angst,,, so... *throws fluff in your face*

“Morning, beautiful,”

Tony squinted, rolling a little further into the warm embrace that he knew was Steve’s arms and groaning softly. “No. Too early. Call back in an hour.”

Steve laughed, lips brushing softly over Tony’s hair. “It’s 11. I’ve been lying in for 3 hours, now.”

Tony smiled, kissing Steve’s chest as he did so. “Have you just been lying there watching me this whole time? Pervert,”

“Guilty,” was all Steve said, before rolling himself on top of Tony, elbows resting against the bed to stop his weight from crushing into Tony’s arc reactor. He leaned down a little, kissing Tony’s nose. “Happy birthday, darling,”

Tony paused, brow furrowing for a moment before it dawned on him. “You remembered my birthday?”

Steve shot him a look, part frown, part fond exasperation as he kissed Tony again. “We go through this every year, babe. Yes, I remembered your birthday. I’m slightly offended that you thought I wouldn’t, to be honest.”

Tony shrugged, pouting a little as he arched up into Steve’s touch, hands wrapping around his neck and mouth finding Steve’s. “Does this mean,” he whispered in between kisses, “crazy morning s-”

“Nope,” Steve interrupted, pushing Tony’s hips back on to the bed before rolling off him, grinning cheekily, because he was a motherfucking tease, “There’s food cooking- and the team said they’re waiting for us downstairs.”

Tony groaned, sprawling out on the sheets ad smushing his face further into the pillows. “But it’s my birthday-”

“And the team are going to come barging up here with pitchforks unless we hurry up,” Steve interrupted, throwing on a shirt and smiling as he crossed the room and jumped back on the bed, crawling over to Tony and covering his face with kisses, despite the man’s giggling protests.

“Steve, stop it, I thought we needed to h-h-hurry!” Tony wheezed, as Steve dug into his ribs and tickled, mouth moving across Tony’s face and strategically, covering every area he could find.

Steve paused, nipping Tony’s ear lightly before sitting up and sitting on his knees, still beaming. “Correct. Let’s go, Stark, get a move on, we don’t have all day- you’ve already spent half of it asleep.”

Tony groaned again, but allowed Steve to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him up. He took the opportunity to slide his arms around Steve’s shoulders again, mouth on the other man’s neck. “Are you very sure we can’t just-”

“I’m not going to let you tempt me, Tony,” Steve said, biting his lip and unwrapping Tony from his neck. It looked like he was having a tough time believing his own words, but he kept firm, yanking them both up into standing and then maneuvering Tony until he was facing the direction of his wardrobe. “We will definitely be coming back to that later, though.”

“I’m counting on it,” Tony said, pulling out some comfy clothes from the bottom of his wardrobe and throwing them on. “By the way you’re talking, I’m guessing you’ve got plans for me.”

Steve nodded, watching Tony dress. “Yep.”

“Care to give me a hint?”

“Nope.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve excessive amounts of peril, I’m good. Medium amounts of peril are fine, though. Also no nudity on Clint’s part.”

Steve paused, but altogether he didn’t seem that shocked by Tony’s wishes, which said something about their lives, really. “I told Clint explicitly that no clothes were to be removed, don’t worry. As for the peril, I’m pretty sure there will be none. Although, you know, I can’t exactly promise that.”

Tony just shrugged, walking over to where Steve was sat on the bed and slotting himself between his knees. “Eh, that was pushing it anyway.”

Steve laughed, taking Tony’s hands and kissing the palms, before wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and pulling him in, pressing his face to Tony’s stomach. “Happy birthday,” he said again.

Tony stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair, shutting his eyes and letting the sound of Steve’s breathing take over. 

Well. For about three seconds, anyway. After that, their moment of peace was rudely interrupted by four other people as they kicked the door open and piled in.

Tony sighed as he was rounded on and pulled away from Steve, who was just sitting there with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eye. The team had a very thorough hold on him, so there wasn’t much point in trying to fight them off. He just let them haul him up and carry him down the stairs, while Steve laughed and trailed along behind him.

“Which one of you creeps is feeling my ass?” He yelled.

“Apologies, Tony, there is no other space to hold,” Thor said, giving him a look that meant there were plenty of other spaces to hold, he was just a little shit.

Once they’d kidnapped him, it didn’t take long for all of them to end up in the communal kitchen, dropping Tony gently on the table and then pressing a mug of coffee immediately into his hands.

“Thanks Brucie,” he said, because it was only Bruce who knew how to make coffee just right- everyone else had yet to learn the art.

“Right! When do we get to do presents?” Clint asked the room, clapping his hands and then slow-motion punching Tony in the face, because he was a five-year-old.

“No time like the present,” Natasha shrugged, and then paused, eyes widening a little. “That... that was not a pun. If any of you mention that ever again I’ll break your fingers.”

Tony laughed, and Natasha saw, but she just rolled her eyes and smiled a little, squeezing his arm. “We had a long think about what to get you this year- it was kinda difficult, as always, to buy anything for you, considering the fact you are a billionaire and can therefore buy anything you so desire.”

“So we were like- what do you do for a guy who has everything?” Clint cut in theatrically, before whipping an envelope out of his pocket and grinning. “Why, you do him favors, of course.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, as he took the envelope from Clint’s hands. “This better not implode upon opening-”

“I can vouch for Clint, don’t worry,” Steve said, leaning on the counter opposite Tony and smiling. “No explosions.”

Tony nodded, and ripped open the envelope. Inside, there were three strips of paper, with hand-written sentences in the middle of them. He furrowed his brow curiously as he removed them, reading them quickly.

5 free passes to the TV, even when I’m watching it, because it seems 80% of all our fights stem from arguments over who wants what.

1 team-up against Natasha. Only one. She’s scary and will kill us both if we do it any more than that.

5 ‘leave me the fuck alone’ opportunities. You invoke this slip and say those words, and I’m gone, no questions asked.

Tony looked up, confused. “What the hell does this mean?”

“It means,” Clint rolled his eyes and hopped on the table next to Tony, “that these are favors you can ask- no arguments allowed- of me, contractually signed and agreed upon. Only for the amount of times it says on the slip, though, I’m not that easy.”

Tony stared at them for another few seconds, before a smile broke out on his face, and he looked at Clint, eyes sparkling. “Thank you. I’m going to savor the fuck out of these for years, you know. Save them for special occasions. Or maybe I’ll do them all at once, and make you my slave for the day.”

Clint frowned, but Tony pulled him into a hug and then let go, turning to Natasha as she held out an envelope of her own. “Wait- you’ve all done this?”

“Yes. Decided to switch things up for a change, you know?” She explained, shoving her present into his hands and then turning away to grab some food. Tony knew she didn’t like her kindness being acknowledged, but when Tony read her slips, he jumped off the table and pulled her into a tight hug anyway, which she luckily returned.

One by one, he received all the favors off each teammate- from ‘will let you ride on the Great Stallion of Asgard through the meadows of Gold’ from Thor to ‘I’ll get you coffee whenever you ask for a whole month’ from Bruce.

It was perfect and thoughtful and by the time he got around to Steve’s envelope, he was already feeling pretty emotional.

Smiling, he opened the letter and pulled out its contents. There were three slips, the same as everyone else, and Steve had bordered them with little cartoon drawings of the whole team. It looked adorable,,and Tony grinned up at Steve, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down for a kiss before he continued.

The whole team were positively beaming, and everyone seemed to have forgotten how to stand still- even Steve was fiddling with his hands as Tony read through the first note.

I’ll grow a beard on three different occasions for a month- I know how much you want to see it on me.

Tony laughed, imagining clean-cut, lovely Steve with a scruffy lumberjack beard. “Yeah, I’m using the first one right now. No shaving for a month, baby.”

Steve laughed nervously as Tony continued.

You can order to me get to bed if I’m in a shitty mood and still working at the gym. 10 times, non-negotiable on my side.

Tony smiled softly, nodding his head. “That sure will come in useful. Thank you, Steve.”

At this point, the entire room was pretty much vibrating on the spot, and Tony was a little nervous as to what the last one was going to be. He looked at Steve curiously, eyebrow raised, and Steve just nodded at the last slip, biting his lip.

Curious and a little excited, Tony read through the last line.

This one isn’t so much doing a favor for you as it is me, but- you’d make the happiest man in the galaxy if you would let me have the honor of spending the rest of my life with you, as your husband. If you’ll have me. Unlimited offer.

Tony stared at the words for a long time. When he looked up, Steve was on one knee, and there was a ring held between his fingers.

He raised an eyebrow, scarlet in the face. His hand was shaking a little, but there was the same determined look in his eyes that he kept for battles.

Like Tony agreeing was ever going to be a battle.

“Oh my god. Yes. Holy shit, yes, Steve.”

The room erupted in yells and cheers, and Steve’s eyes widened in shock as Tony jumped off the table and slid down until he was able to throw himself at Steve, burying his face in the other mans shoulder and gripping the fabric of his shirt so tight his knuckles were white. “Yes, yes, yes, holy shit, I love you Steve, yes-”

Steve kissed him, cutting off the ramble, but they had to stop when both of them began laughing uncontrollably. Steve looked down at Tony, wiping the tear tracks off his cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down and kissing him again. “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And I’m going to be the best husband you could ever hope for, Tony Stark. I promise.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment it seemed Thor lost patience and tackled them both to the floor, hugging them tight enough to bruise. Not that Tony gave a damn, mind.

He was marrying Steve. 

“Group hug!” The God yelled, and Steve was laughing, tears still in his eyes as he rolled Tony into his arms and leaned over him, making sure he wasn’t crushed as four other superheroes launched themselves on top of them, whooping and yelling and (In Clint’s case, anyway) removing their shirts to swing them like lassos.

Tony felt like he was dreaming. Like he was floating on a level of euphoria that anyone else had yet to reach.

He was marrying Steve.

“Clint, what did we say about keeping our clothes on?” Someone groaned, and Tony could feel the vibrations of Steve laughing on top of him, his face crinkled and smiling from ear to ear.

He was marrying Steve.

“Happy fucking birthday,” He said to himself, stealing a kiss before the whole pile rolled and fell down the set of stairs that lead to the living room.

[bunnipuff]

I'm not sure how comfortable you feel giving advice, but I'm trying to come up with different designs for creatures like demons for a project, and I'm wondering if you had advice? (Yours all look so fantastic and I'm just having a really hard time with it)

aw ty so much im glad you decided to come to me!! i love helping out a lot so dw about it but also keep in mind that whatever i say is FAR from the only way to do things, whenever i make a post like this its generally about like.. what works for me, and what are good guidelines to start. the most important is to soak in information and find your own way to do things (:

 i havent designed creatures in a little while but ill try my best. demon design under the cut 👌

first of all! i think the most important thing to begin with is to find a theme for the design you’re about to create. do you want them to look scary, or friendly? what is their purpose going to be? you can find a theme by getting a color palette you like a lot and working from here. for instance i based kyrie on a lammergeier vulture, since i loved the overall spikiness of them as well as their color scheme; for her i wanted a big forest-dwelling monster kind of look, so i built her silhouette to look very inhuman and strange. the long creepy neck, the four-legged stance, the human face tacked onto a very much not human body are all things people are not used to seeing and generally think of as pretty spooky, so i assembled those elements together into something i thought looked pretty cool. the art for her is pretty old and i could have done a lot more with her, but the general elements are there - you can see her theme is “scruffy and unkempt” as well as “uncanny valley”, like she’s an assembly of animal parts that don’t quite work together and make the whole thing look. off. which is what you kind of want in a more monstrous character! exaggerate the features, elongate some, add limbs, remove limbs. make something thats visually interesting to you. start from an interesting looking animal and just Fuck It Way Up

a good way to figure out what design elements you’re going to need is to look into the character’s backstory. some example questions: are demons in your universe based more on animals, on their specific sin? are they humanoid or more creature-like? do they come from angels or are they created from humans? all of these are going to influence what theyre going to eventually look like, so theyre important factors to consider if you want them to fit into a story; but if you just want to make a cool looking design, you can always put that aside and make them fit in later. it’s just a step that can spur you into the right direction. for instance: belphegor is a demon i’ve helped design who is based on the cardinal sin of sloth, so making him i tried to have elements kinda representing that: long unkempt hair, scruffy beard from not shaving, droopy eyes, big fluffy tail to sleep on, that kind of stuff. however do try not to fall into the trap of making a character only based on those attributes because you might end up with something thats really just. generic. (hint: all those lust demons who are just a generic sexy big chested small waisted lady. zwuoto is a lust demon belonging to one of my friends that i helped design and i personally think shes very visually striking; she has that idea of luxury and decadence about her without losing too much of the demonic part and shes attractive without being generic. i guess what im trying to say is that you should vary what you make and try not to only rely on stereotypes and tropes??) you can also work based off of existing folklore creatures, or cryptids, or such things. theyre a good jumping point and a lot of them are vague enough to be able to be built over; very helpful when you don’t really have a solid idea but you want to make something.

otherwise just work with what you find visually interesting.. jacqueline is a really old design that was just me trying to play around with delicate little body/big monstrous paws as an interesting contrast. marina and kaluoy are basically just humans with a pleasant fish motif because thats what i felt like drawing at the time. starchild is very self-indulgent because shes all vibrant colors and soft curves and streamlined silhouette… really, theres no rules in character design, just put in what you feel looks interesting and draw it. it doesnt necessarily have to match, it can even intentionally clash, as long as you make it interesting and own it, and i think thats really the beauty of it!

aside from all that you should still like, follow the general character design rules; have an interesting silhouette, have a cohesive idea, sketch them in different poses to get a feel for them, dont be afraid to start over or scratch things out if youre not too sure about them. sometimes less is more, sometimes more is more,  really, it depends what works with your style and what you like to draw.. dont design a character youre going to hate drawing because thats the best way to just abandon them entirely! make something you enjoy drawing.

if you need inspiration i have a few tags on my main blog that i sometimes go through to get ideas for designs: demons, color palettes, angels, characters, inspiration, interesting objects, fashion,makeup, creatures. this is by no means an exhaustive list but these are usually what help me; the best bet is for u to make yourself a folder or a tag of things that visually strike you, and pull them back up once its time to make a character; having a visual bible of that sort helps a lot more than you would think!